Night Watch

He thought to himself ‘I like it here amongst the drunks, crazies and the punks’. It’s true he felt at home being that he was a liar and a cheat, a thief and generally not a very nice person. It’s true he’d been bad before and now believed that everything happening was a result of past misdemeanours, misdemeanours that seemed to lack redemption of any sort. The worst thing was the late night shouting, never sure of the origin, but always audible delirium filled his ears and made his brain pulse. Sometimes there would be screams that he prayed came from the mouths of foxes and not humans and often there would be loud unexplainable bangs, clunks and thuds. Still the living on the edge randomness of it all kept his interest and through broken blinds he would observe the stranger side of human nature as it unfolded in the cold darkness and being that no two nights were ever the same repeated viewing was a required necessity. Siren free evenings unnerved him; the silence meant no one was out up to no good which probably meant they were in up to worse. The streets always looked better with a quick electric blue wash flashed over there otherwise boring brown and despite having heard thousands in his lifetime the noise he could do without as he still found it hard to differentiate between the services on offer. As the noises fade and birdsong ushers in the first waves of wide awake zombies the insanely dangerous yet temptingly interesting retreat from the day and begin once again to store up the madness for the next new moon ready for when the cycle will continue as it always does.

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