I wrote this for the monthly challenge set by my writers group. The picture (if I remember right) is from a book of 1920s woodcuts. (Someone will correct me if I'm wrong.)~~~Ezekiel knew that he shouldn’t come here, and yet every week, at this same hour, here he stood, resting his life-wearied form on his cane. This late at night there was a dull hush over the darkened street, and even the rats appeared to have gone to sleep. There was the occasional rustle of paper or a whistle as the breeze caught the street lamps at just the right resonance, and Ezekiel would startle from his reverie to glance around, shiftily checking that he was still unobserved....
Posts
