The Waste Patron
The streetlamps illuminate the glistening droplets falling before me. Couldn't be an hour after 11 o'clock. The city of Eastdo Creek has been the same since Its' creation. The rustic and less than glamorous homes lined the streets, and with them; mounds of remains. From high to low, filth and scum outlined the shacks with most of the city's inhabitants mimicking the waste.
"waste, huh?" I replayed in my head as if it was the first time, I conjured such a cynical thought.
I knew, I always knew this place would be my grave. Ever since my father shipped me off.
"Come now, Listen, Eden. Your Uncle is a brilliant man!" My father would tell me. "You can't stay here anymore; I can't feed myself, kid. How am I supposed to feed another mouth?" Father's addiction worsened after mother's death. He lied to me, it was as a predator, decomposed by that of a fungus, Natural. He could afford to take care of me, I always knew.
It wasn't a week after I arrived at my uncle's residence that I received a call detailing my father's somber cadaver. No tears were shed, he was as how I see this damned city that I am condemned to...
"Waste." Again, I repeat in my head making my way up to the cracked screen door. It was unlatched as it always was, well at least since it became a regular occurrence coming home late.
