The evening’s shadows lay coiled under blades of grass, their black tips poised to lick the sun’s retreating heels in a feast of powerless neon.
Out he crept, hunched and squinting, weaving between the weeds with the spindly limbed nimbleness of a huge preying mantis, wrapped in a snorkel parka. Overhead, the gathering clouds drew a shroud over his furtive excitement, obscuring his movements from the eyes of the gods. Beneath him, bugs looked on in awe.
He fiddled with the gate latch and peered out through the wayward shock of hedge and nettles to check the coast was clear. From window to window to window, silhouettes of strangers flickered behind the painted frames like an incomprehensible cartoon strip running the whole length of the street, but between the trees and the badly parked cars, there wasn’t a soul in sight. On any other night, it might have been almost perfect.
House martins spiralled above him in search of evening insects to satisfy their brood. Branches stretched across the fading orange sky like skeletons dancing in a cartoon while wearing SCUBA gear.
He slipped across the sidewalk, bulged and rutted by shifting roots, and hid against a trunk, tight like moss hiding from the sun. He held his watch toward the fading light and squinted at the hands. And squinted. And squinted.
He'd forgotten what he set out to do.
Opening: WO.....Continuation: Anonymous