Trip – Short Story # 15



He hadn’t been out in ages.

Catacombed in walls and

the spaces between.

He wept in the light,

the darkness illuminated,

weak and empty. But he knew,

nothing. Just like everyone

else. Through the city he

moved like Sisyphus. A

night like this would not

soon be forgotten. But

he would. Bar one;

they were there, his friends.

But then he remembered that

he had none. The bottom of

that glass came too fast,

out out, brief candle. He

never was one to stick around

past his time. Met a man or

at least he thought. Said

he knew a place to go. Where?

Anywhere. Everywhere.

Sounded fine by

him. So there is where they

went. It was a short trip

but it was a trip. On time

he arrived where he was right

now. Never did he feel so

happy in all his poor, poor, poor

life, or at least he couldn’t

remember happier. It was

midnight. It was raining

but that didn’t bother him

much. He was sure they’d

be missing him soon, but

then he remembered:

he was alone;

had no

one, no thing.

But he

had this fellow, or

at least he thought.

But then he,

he remember

he never left


Tell me what you think