The Street

The Street

The rain hammered hard upon the cold pavement, splashing in tiny droplets on the asphalt. Each raindrop shattered into a thousand shards of crystal, collecting in growing puddles of rippling reflections. Through the downpour, a single figure walked the street. He turned his collar to the cold and damp as water dripped from the brim of his black hat to slip down his long grey coat. Sheltering his hands in wide pockets, the man moved down the dark and empty street, the occasional buzz of a flickering streetlamp barely audible above the rain. A single car approached, bright headlamps a blinding presence in the darkness, before disappearing around a corner and returning the street to darkness. In that moment of illumination, the inhabitants of the street could be seen, cowering in shadows and hiding in boxes. He scrabbled about in his pockets, withdrawing a silver lighter and a single cigarette. Placing the end between his lips, a single flick of his thumb lit the paper. The brief flame of the lighter flickered and died as the top snapped shut. Shoving his hands back in his pockets, he continued walking, desperately trying to ignore those pitiful wretches for who every single day was a struggle for survival. How ever much he wished to help, he could not. To do so would break His law.

Taking a final drag on the sputtering cigarette, he dropped the butt to the damp ground. He exhaled a thin stream of smoke as he stamped on the already dying ember. A final step brought him to the end of the street, an empty wasteland of consumerism and desolation. A solitary tear rolled down his cheek, merging with the raindrops that fell. Throwing aside his coat, the figure spread his glorious white wings and soared into the air, leaving the condemned world of men to its fate as he flew amongst the tears of a thousand angels.