Member-only story
Flash Fiction | Nightlife | Loneliness
South Side
Shadows lie in wait until the fog blurs the spotlights of cop cars and hovering helos
Twilight’s puce disappears as the man with the hollow cheeks and wilting eyes hops the Green Line, plastering his face to the window.
Neon red and arsenic black turn the night into a muddy haze of maroon. The skyscrapers ooze monochrome brown as the nobles flee to their castles. The grinding rails of the psychedelic L Trains screech like nails on a chalkboard, no longer absorbed by daylight’s white noise.
Tailored suits and blouses give way to overcoats, black hoodies, and the bedraggled threads of invisibles.
Old men slink from seedy joints on Roosevelt Road, hands in pockets. Women clutch purses and march in solidarity believing to be safe. Nervous small talk is muted by cries of professional panhandlers drowning the whispers of the forgotten.
Out for a reason or no reason, characters bleed into the unknowable darkness of Nyx. Searching for something or nothing is indiscernible, the only constant being the reeking fusion of diesel, sewage, fried grease, and dogshit.
Anger, sorrow, and regret occupy many a wrinkled brow. The scary and the scared walk side-by-side…
