A road at night. The city is black with rain. A back alley with a cinema door. An old lady tramp with wild grey hair laughs, rummages for souls in a bin. An old Indian lady is avoiding her — everyone is. Another male tramp is lost and drunk and staggers past.
She looks at me. Her blackened teeth grin as she holds out a discarded soul. I’m scared and want to escape.
I have a TV remote in my hand — it’s how I move around. I press fast forward to run away but the batteries are flat. I just stutter and shake. I turn around. She’s caught up. And cackles as she presses the soul into me.
© 2016 Occasional Dreams