013. Drunk, Diseased, and Damaged. [random drabble]
Thunder roared in the sky over the cold city of Montreal as the skies cried icy tears upon the streets. Blond strays slicked wet to the skin of a barely clad man, Cameron, as he stood lingering on the fire escape of his inner-city dwelling. The black irons seethed beneath his bare feet and hissed under the shower of rain and ice. Water tinkled off of the smooth round of an empty bottle held loose in the man's shivering hand.
Again and again, the sky bellowed and flashed. It thought to be angry at the booze soaked brother, who staggered in numbing strides to lean forward against the rail and scream up at the cloud.
"And you find it wrong?! When love finds shadow and pain a guise to hide it from that which may break it? I am no villain. I am no rueful sprite. I am but the very pawn of it; lessened none by my way to reach such a love. Tread upon the bodies that fall before me, climb the peak of disease and weak just to find suns rays touching me still. You are not so low in sand and filth, yourself, boy."
How he scorns the sky, spitting out at it to only stir its deeper rage. Arms are lifted and spread out as wings to fly out into the breeze, into the hell that falls from the heavens and onto the earth. The bottle drops from his hand to plummet and shatter on the cold, hard ground.
"Rise and see this day for what you will it to be. RISE, I say! And find yourself a better man than I for your heart! Find me a greater mind than mine. See me weep in sadness to lose the eyes I so desperately wish to keep on me. Break my soul, shatter it on the very earth we stand together upon."
Another flash and a waning scream of pain. The storm is falling, failing. Leaving to flee for better lands. Leaving the priest in his own to beg that once rebellious sky to return to him.
"Kill me," his voice calls quietly against the steam from his lips. "I beg of you."
Again and again, the sky bellowed and flashed. It thought to be angry at the booze soaked brother, who staggered in numbing strides to lean forward against the rail and scream up at the cloud.
"And you find it wrong?! When love finds shadow and pain a guise to hide it from that which may break it? I am no villain. I am no rueful sprite. I am but the very pawn of it; lessened none by my way to reach such a love. Tread upon the bodies that fall before me, climb the peak of disease and weak just to find suns rays touching me still. You are not so low in sand and filth, yourself, boy."
How he scorns the sky, spitting out at it to only stir its deeper rage. Arms are lifted and spread out as wings to fly out into the breeze, into the hell that falls from the heavens and onto the earth. The bottle drops from his hand to plummet and shatter on the cold, hard ground.
"Rise and see this day for what you will it to be. RISE, I say! And find yourself a better man than I for your heart! Find me a greater mind than mine. See me weep in sadness to lose the eyes I so desperately wish to keep on me. Break my soul, shatter it on the very earth we stand together upon."
Another flash and a waning scream of pain. The storm is falling, failing. Leaving to flee for better lands. Leaving the priest in his own to beg that once rebellious sky to return to him.
"Kill me," his voice calls quietly against the steam from his lips. "I beg of you."