Black

The roads are dark here. The pavement that greys and ages with time is charcoal black and new. It is like a river of dark tar quicksand that aches to be inhaled. In the distance there is a faceless stranger. Do I know him? Why is he there? And why haven’t our paths crossed soon. “Come yonder!” Said a voice behind me.

Death looked scary. There was nothing there but bones, and he was just like death in those Mexican lottery cards. His face looked like a sugar skull, and for a minute I wanted to lick it and see if death was sweet. “come, you can cross here.”  Suddenly, beneath the tar a boat appeared. It was small boat made of the brownest wood. It looked like it had been cut down recently, and wasn’t smoothed because the ridges were still.

Excerpt from Chapter 2, a Novel in progress

"The bloodlust and guilt did not clash well, and made him delirious. Such was his delirium, almost a drunken stupor. And in this stupor he made his way home, down that one road. Had this been another time of the day, it would have been a massacre for the people who crossed his paths. But this was 3 in the morning, and everyone was sound asleep. As he walked, he periodically licked the red iron liquid on his lips as a reminder of what he had done. And then he would start crying, because his conscience would come rushing down to punch him in the gut.