It is a dark and stormy night
And the world is pissing rain.
The bruised sky bends and twists,
Stretches like rubber,
And the city is wet.
Stars are clothed in tempestuous darkness.
Cars drive under orange cones of light,
Rushing quickly by; eager to escape
Go go go go the rain says in many voices.
And he stands on the curb,
Letting the water soak through him.
His dress shirt, a desperate thing, clings to him.
The collar of his long jacket has been turned up against the everything.
Shadows cascade across his face,
Cloaking his features.
(His hair is tousled and black, slick with the water.)
He hails a taxi.
The taxi is yellow
And he is a slice of dark.
The driver asks where he wants to be taken.
The voice that replies is a young and husky
Wrought with undercurrents of grief.
Old grief -
Grief long held check in an unstable balance.
“Gotham Street.”
YOU ARE READING
The Emergence
PuisiThere is a man who is named John Statten Roman and whose lifeline is strangely and inextricably tied with that of the beautiful and elusive girl, Zooey, and the mysterious and powerful figure known as Mardock. There is a city that does not exist and...
