Scrawlers

The gas light glow struggles in the prohibitive darkness. Night time is a cave that holds desire in. Dawn seems worlds away.

The only ones outside their nest shuffling about are thirsty philistines searching for a place where everyone keeps their hat on indoors in case they have to make a run for it.

At a heavy oak door I paused. I tried to brush aside the fog behind my eyes. Was it two hard knocks and then three rapid ones? Or was it three, then two? The horizon, once within reach, shifted back to eternity.