Clover
The sun set behind the damp, grey bridge and Clover strolled to his familiar spot and took a seat among the faded red blanket and a few rusted tin cans. The sky first illuminated bright orange, as Clover made himself a fire using old newspaper and candy wrappers. The dark streams of smoke smelt like a car fire, but he was used to the foul smells of life without means. Clovers oversized shadow flicked in the light from the crackling fire against the cement of the overpass. Clover had no idea this night would be unlike any other he spent outside under the deep purple sky speckled with the random light from the few visible stars.
The sun crept deeper beneath the horizon as Clover began to reflect upon his brighter days, before the dank existence of life under the bridge. He remembered wife’s eyes, that mirrored the glimmer of each star in the sky, and the smell of burning his garbage behind the bright blue house he lived in just a few years back. The rumble of the cars above reminded Clover of his days working on the air craft carrier in the middle of the ocean, the chaos of landing planes and the pride it brought him back home, but now and days Clover’s life wasn’t as simplistic.
Gripping to the reality of his present life, Clover grabbed a thick glass bottle of Jack Daniels and lifted it far above his tilted head, and let the vile liquid slide down his throat, as the fire refracted in the glass of the bottle. Clover drank and drank as he became more and more obliterated. The more drunk he became, the smaller his fire grew, until he was surrounded with night and only night. Clover became lost mixing his past with his dismal present. He stumbled around beneath the enclosing bridge and mumbled about regrets, plans and disappointment. Beneath his feet, Clover felt the earth twisting and turning and ripped itself out from under him. Night after night he wound up struggling against the darkness, struggling against himself and his fear of the future.
Clover felt the chill of the autumn night surround his body as he clambered among the trash that caught under his feet and pulled him to the ground. Lying in the grass he stared up at the spinning stars above him. He flung his grey head to the side and vomited into the dirt.
A few hours later, the sun began to rise opposite of its last appearance releasing streaks of magenta, orange and eventually yellow. Clover gripped the dirt beneath him and stared up at the gray bridge rumbling above him. He now could make out faint details, like the rivets gripping the structure together. Clover returned to his cold blankets, scramble through the scattered trash until he found a picture of his wife. He gripped the picture with his dirty left hand placed his right foot unsteadily in the tall grass and began walking out, away from the bridge.
The sun crept deeper beneath the horizon as Clover began to reflect upon his brighter days, before the dank existence of life under the bridge. He remembered wife’s eyes, that mirrored the glimmer of each star in the sky, and the smell of burning his garbage behind the bright blue house he lived in just a few years back. The rumble of the cars above reminded Clover of his days working on the air craft carrier in the middle of the ocean, the chaos of landing planes and the pride it brought him back home, but now and days Clover’s life wasn’t as simplistic.
Gripping to the reality of his present life, Clover grabbed a thick glass bottle of Jack Daniels and lifted it far above his tilted head, and let the vile liquid slide down his throat, as the fire refracted in the glass of the bottle. Clover drank and drank as he became more and more obliterated. The more drunk he became, the smaller his fire grew, until he was surrounded with night and only night. Clover became lost mixing his past with his dismal present. He stumbled around beneath the enclosing bridge and mumbled about regrets, plans and disappointment. Beneath his feet, Clover felt the earth twisting and turning and ripped itself out from under him. Night after night he wound up struggling against the darkness, struggling against himself and his fear of the future.
Clover felt the chill of the autumn night surround his body as he clambered among the trash that caught under his feet and pulled him to the ground. Lying in the grass he stared up at the spinning stars above him. He flung his grey head to the side and vomited into the dirt.
A few hours later, the sun began to rise opposite of its last appearance releasing streaks of magenta, orange and eventually yellow. Clover gripped the dirt beneath him and stared up at the gray bridge rumbling above him. He now could make out faint details, like the rivets gripping the structure together. Clover returned to his cold blankets, scramble through the scattered trash until he found a picture of his wife. He gripped the picture with his dirty left hand placed his right foot unsteadily in the tall grass and began walking out, away from the bridge.