11 Aug 2014 Short Stories: New York City

A night in New York

The New York skyline, a futuristic world of adventure. The box shaped city, almost robotic. The laughing of the people inhabits the concrete jungle, where the humans are animals. Enormous buildings look like they’re about to take off into space. An extraordinary glow surrounds the city, the smell of success and industrial strength overpower the smells of fear and hatred. The go getters of the business world dispatch from their cubicles after a stressful day, they swarm like black suited flies to get home,their hair slightly out of place from all the head scratching work problems they face, they carry their lives home with them in a briefcase.

A cold mist sweeps over the habour as the night falls. A gentle old women tightens her headscarf as she shudders with the cold chill on her fragile spine, she walks quickly past an alley of rouges and prays she’ll become invisable, a feather floats past on open window with a dysfuctional family slamming doors to close out the world.

The sound of the law can be heard by each ear drum, screaming sirens fly through the city leaving nothing but an echo. The waves hit the docking bay as a small tugboat heads off into the darkness. The ten fortyfive train to central New Jersey carrying its cargo to the next station rattles through the dusty track making every bridge tremble and shake.

The train driver sees many things on his round, arguments, kids up past their bedtimes watching late night comedy shows, dogs barking to be let out into the unnatural environment and sometimes lonely people staring into their pasts to desperately waiting for a change in their miserable, unnoticed life.

A homeless man sits with spread legs on the side walk with his bottle of two dollar wine, his only source of happyness dripping down his throat into his unfed stomach. He reflects on why he even came to this open prison that is New York, he once had dreams of success and having a good job and life, his job now is to survive in back alleys and dustbins living on other peoples rejections. No-one wants to give him their precious time and time is all he has left.

The crimes in the city carry on throughout the night the disenchanted sound of gun fire and screeching cars race through the winding roads and streets. The smell of hot oil rises up from the steam in the grates. There is a quiet rumbling beneath the shell that is the city underneath is the heart of transport known as the subway, in the late hours of the night the subway is like a ghost moving on swiftly the only noises to be heard are the roar of the trains and the flea ridden rats sqeaking for the love of leftovers in a bin. The sights to be seen in this area are the party goers slowly sobering up in the graffiti ridden tunnels.

The night is eventually leaving the sky as an infestation of taxis start to flock around the city the horns shout to get the millions to work on time. The streets become full of life and movement coffee is tasted even if you are not drinking it, the chefs of the streets begin cooking their trades; hotdogs, pretzels, bagels and donuts are the choice of breakfeasts and they’re bringing in the customers. A fresh bundel of newspapers thrown to each curb and on sale in seconds. The night has cleared and New York is awake.

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