Song of the street

(pixabay image by Natan Vance)

“And therefore…”

She was making fun of me; a fire in her eyes, and drawing circles on my skin after lovemaking, circles that burned with desire and brought me back to life in way that broke the fences of before

“I’ll show you,” she said, rising from our newly-earned bed.

I stood, shivering in my expensive raincoat at the end of the street. Stood inside my chalked circle within which I’d be safe, she said, mocking with steel, walking to the end of the street, looking back at me.

The orb in that dreadful sky blinked as though waking. Its intensity followed her nimble form as she strode back toward me. The parallax broke the world… the impossible followed her down the street and towards us both.

The chalk circle burned into a ring of fire, its flames licking my skin beneath the frighteningly thin coat – my vanishing, single defence.

“With both feet,” she howled above the ringing of the orb, daring me to fail…

With scorched feet, I didn’t….

©Stephen Tanham

Written for Myths of the Mirror.