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The streets were scattered with the puddles of the dayís rain. Now they glittered reflecting the rays of sun as they struggled to break through the still dark and stormy sky, before the day was once again lost to the shadows of night. This was when I first saw him. In the sinking light that remained it was just enough to highlight the shabby be-straggled figure that emerged from the crumbling wooden door. This wasnít an area that I would usually have chosen to be in. Nor was this the man that I would usually confide my affections to, but the sheer hopelessness in his eyes convincing me I was needed. So carefully I weaved my way through the damp and puddle filled street. Closing in on him, our eyes met. A light seemed to flicker in his eyes, a slight smile dabbed the edges of his lips causing his hollow cheeks to flap. His, however, never quivered or turned away, remaining locked to mine.

Slowly his bean-like figure bent, coming as close to the ground as possible. Reaching out his arm I allowed the stick fingers to dance along the side of my face before they slid down to my chin tilting it towards his. Stepping back, waiting momentarily, mainly to allow him to think heíd accomplished something, before carefully continuing my journey into his now out reached arms. Completing my first task as his arms enclosed around me. As if cradling a baby he now rose, swiftly drawing me back inside with him, closing the door locking the cold out with it.

The house wasnít quite what Iíd expected. A small kitchen engulfed one corner spreading itís benches along most of the wall, while a single bed cowered in the other corner. Separating these two rooms was a cream coloured sheet hung over string, to create a curtain. In the remaining space there was a little table with a single chair. However this wasnít what surprised me as much as the fact that the whole place was incredibly clean, having not a single paper or dish out of place.

Offering for me to look around, and not wanting to seem rude I accepted, beginning to walk around the place slowly. He went to the kitchen, all the while his eyes flickering up to meet mine, drawing open the cupboard to produce a low rising glass. Placing it on the table he then stepped over to the fridge, removing from it a small container of milk. Starting to apologise that there wasnít anything else, our eyes met, his sentence trailed off as a smile appeared on his face. Pouring a small portion of the milk-like substance into the glass he brought it over to me. Placing his hand on my shoulder he began to run his hand down my back, cooing words of encouragement as he urged me to drink it. Once again to give him hope, even though I didnít like milk, I began to drink. This time, my action was met with a smile and a sigh of satisfaction as his hands continued to glide up and down my back.

As he slipped into bed, I hopped into the bed as well, nestling my legs against his, comforting him, at the same time trying to create some warmth. Soon the darkened silence overcame me, as I drifted off to sleep.

Somethingís happening. The blanket is over me. I canít move. I canít breathe. Iím fighting. Heís too strong. I can hear his voice. Heís laughing. Heís apologising. I canít take the pain anymore. I feel dizzy. My lungs feel like they will burstÖ

She wonít be a very big meal, but at least itís something. I wonder what cat really does taste like.



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The following comments are for "The Invisionary"
by moggy





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