On the Other Side of Town

The sun is starting to set beneath the clouds spattered across the sky. The wind is blowing fiercely. Condensation suspended in the air threatens to fall as the atmosphere grows dismal by the clock-ticking second.

He wraps himself tightly in his shoddy blanket, trying desperately to fight off the chill creeping up from his toes. He can feel its grip on him--its clenched jaw with the strength of a thousand Trojan men. Ripped bits of newspaper are stuffed in between his armpits, his crotch, his hands. It helps to keep the heat in and the cold out. Sometimes. A flash of lightning overhead temporarily brightens his streaked face, covered with days-old grime and sweat.

A clinking sound. Someone has dropped a few coins into his paper cup. He peers over the top of his hands to check out his day's worth. It's not much, but perhaps if he skips out over some food tonight, he'll be able to have a decent meal tomorrow.

Rumble Rumble. The tail-end of a storm must be sweeping in from the Western hemisphere, he thinks. A snippet of conversation about a hurricane that struck not far from the area was all the talk of the streets, and even people like him are able to keep up.

He suddenly yelps as the first droplet hits him hard in between his eyes. Furiously diving under the covers, he pulls until not a single hair is in the path of the offending weather to come.

The sound of water beating against crumbling, old rain gutters is heard before anything more is felt. A gentle tap has turned to a heavy gush in a matter of seconds, and soon, the wet is soaking through.

In it goes, slipping through the decrepit fabric with ease, seeping through the singlefold newspaper, flushing against his skin, increasing in malevolence.

His skin is beaten till rawness, as the whip of a belt comes down hard upon a child that has done wrong. Tears of pain and internal agony stream down his face, intermingling with the rainwater. The sweet, salty taste on the edges of his tongue is the last thing he feels as the consciousness is knocked out of his system.

Note: Not a "Writer's Craft" assignment -- just a short thingymadoo.