Title: Dark street
by Jane from Suffolk | in writing, fiction
It was quiet, the only sound coming from the scuttling rats, and the odd cat slinking through the bushes and walking along the fences. On the right of the street, a line of bins, bins that were standing along outside fences, desolate and absolute in the way they were just there, frozen, like soldiers ready for battle. The streetlamps flickered, leaving dark shadows for monsters to hide in, enhancing the paranoia that surrounded the area. On the floor the black tarmac glistened from the rain, picking up and reflecting the smallest amount of light back up into the night sky. On one side of the road, behind the bins, was a dark fence, the rotting wood and the peeling varnish making the fence look like it could collapse at any moment. On the other side was the houses, the dank plaster on the outside going green from mould and damp. On top of one of the chimneys was a single crow, ominously calling to its friends. And there, at the end of the road, was a grey fence, blocking exit or entry from the street, forcing outsiders away. It did not welcome people, it controlled them, forcing them to do what it wanted. The sharp, shiny, silver barbed-wire gave a clear message that entry to the street was forbidden for outsiders and exit was not an option.
Imagining what it would be like to be stuck somewhere that you see everyday, never being able to leave. You would always have that paranoia, no matter how much you loved or hated where you were.
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