In the ardent hours of my youth, the fever of life possessed me. It was a burning intoxication as I sneaked out of the bedroom window, and silently clambered down the sycamore, landing sure footed and silent as a midnight cat while the adrenaline of the heist surged through eager veins.
Back then, I would run down the street in the shadows, hardly winded, barely waking slumbering dogs, and rendezvous with the Dead-Boys in Henderson Park. We were seventeen, and, through such juvenile eyes, the world was ripe for reaping. I felt as if the world had been subject to terrible and ancient rift - the hours of sunlight belonging to beings benevolent, controlled and organised, while the moonlight hours transitioned across a divine fracture into the domain of the untamed, vivacious and filled with the chaotic order of our soulful youth.
It was a domain we shared with thieves, prowling criminals, vandals and whores, but to our eager eyes, this was a world of wonder, waiting to be explored, primed for trailblazing and, by God, did we blaze back then!
YOU ARE READING
Tend Towards
General FictionThese are my entries into the Weekly Wattpad Contest by @Contests that I judge. And maybe just one or two contest entries into contests that I don't. How fun. Key: [W] Weekly Wattpad Contest [F] Writing Fury's Weekly Contest [P] Pedantic Prosody [R]...
