Through the centre

The sunlight was fading with unexpected sadness. Yellow was lost in cobalt blue and red was trying to breathe. Dusk was accompanying the night. And separation seemed inevitable.

Rings of smoke spiraled upwards. Smoldering in reddish anger, the tip slowly receded. The fingers were steady. But the mind wasn't.

The man's silhouette leant against the railing of the narrow balcony. Warm skin embraced cold steel. The coldness was like a furry spider. Climbing up the arm, to the shoulder and finally settling in the mind. He shook his head, trying to shake it off. The spider smiled.

Faith was 'Little Red Riding Hood'. An unsaid promise took off its sheepskin.

He was a knight. His armor was rusty. His blade had bloodstains. He had been fighting for centuries. Shielding the castles of his loved ones from the marauding tribes of darkness. It was time for him to take leave. But faith had to be saved. The spider moved, just a little bit.

The army of promises stood in front of him, deadly phalanxes waiting for the order to charge. He took out his sword. His armor creaked. Taking one last look at the moon he let out a battle cry. The phalanxes drew closer in unison, waiting, tensed.

The wind sighed, a raindrop fell and the cigarette dropped from his lifeless fingers.

The night found a solitary spider spinning its web in the balcony. The wet earth whispered nostalgia. And somewhere 'Little Red Riding Hood' wept uncontrollably.