Gray, all gray and ready to crumble. Sturdy red brick buildings gray and ready to crumble. Wind through the tunnels, wind through the alleyways, whistling, howling, and ready to fall apart. Wind wailing high and angry, woman wailing low and guttural–woman wailing gray and ready to crumble.
Low and guttural and spilling out of a window gray and ready to crumble. Footsteps halt. Head tilts. Woman wailing.
Bodies everywhere, bumping into each other like corpses swinging in unison on a noose. Surging sea of bodies walking, filling sidewalks, filling streets. Bodies straight-faced, turning away from the alleyways, away from the windows, away from the woman wailing. Surging sea of living bodies, faces cringing gray and ready to crumble.
Footsteps into an alleyway. Kicking glass bottles—clinking, crashing. Daintily dancing around broken shards. Water trickling, dirty, stream writhing past garbage bins like black earthworm. Woman wailing.
No words; only screams. Low and guttural, gray and ready to crumble.
Water trickling. Bodies surging. Cars, cars somewhere, engines and horns and curses. Woman wailing. Woman wailing, wailing, silent.
Silent water, silent bodies, silent engines and horns and curses. All loud, all static, all silent.
Pity low and guttural. Sturdy red brick buildings gray and ready to crumble.
As you can see, these maybe, maybe not excerpts are not being written in chronological order. If and when I start writing in chronological order, I’ll let you know.