The
Writer's Voice
The World's Favourite Literary Website
The Priest - Streetwalker
By
Rusty Broadspear
I fingered my dog collar, I wanted it off
The street darkness clung to me,
So did the chilling night noises,
I stifled a nervous cough.
Muted devilish laughter stirred upwards
From a basement room.
My prayer book was sweaty wet,
And then I heard the scream
Of a military jet.
A flickering streetlamp just ahead
With a garland of rubbish sacks at its base.
The buildings were as black as the sky.
I passed a grimy window, framing a distorted face.
My footsteps took me to a junction
Where danger should have flashed in neon light
A deep black shadow moved from a shop doorway
And then took flight.
As black as a raven but this night was for bats
And stray cats, I said a prayer
And unexpectedly kicked a Coke can into the gutter
Uninvited thoughts came in speaking of despair.
This damp street was a haven for snails
That crunched beneath my feet
The sound was like treading on virgin snow.
The air around me smelt sickly sweet.
Something on the pavement spinning like a top,
I stopped, bent down and picked up a knife.
The blade was warm and sticky with blood,
Just a moment ago, this knife had taken a life.
It was then that I heard the sound of car engines,
One from ahead and one from behind.
They were going to crash, I knew it,
But they stopped beside me only to find
Me with the knife and dressed in tension and sweat.
The police whisked me off they’d got their man
I was grateful for the ride and the company
But it was then that my problems really began.
Critique this work
Click on the book to leave a comment about this work
