Boulevard of Broken Dreams

Grey clouds and Black Water

Tenement blocks that stretch up into oblivion and miander down every road nearby. Broken glass and rotting left overs litter the streets where the gangs of teenagers have left them weeks before. Dull aching grey tarmac and concrete, no sign of life except the sad tired faces of the occupants, - that's my family and our thousands of neighbours.

I walk, slowly down the cold streets. My blond hair flickers in the wind, falling across pale skin and cerulean eyes. It whips through my dark clothing sending a chill down my body. I carry my guitar carefully, but keep myself as inconspicuous as I can. Attention will only summount to being hurt and that is a lesson well learnt to most people in the area. My friends and I simply call it No - Mans Land out on the streets because as soon as you're out there you're on your own.

No one notices me as I walk, a few stares come my way, but nothing comes of it. I don't know what I'm thinking, except that don't know what I'll find in the place I call my home. Dark, dimly lit stairs run into the pale orange glow of the lights. Thirteen floors, the lifts not working... Thumping noise grounding through one of the doors. Unwanted and quiet I slid through shadow into the rooms of a place I call home... It's not a home... but it's where my family live...

Filth greets me as I press further into the dreary flat. The smell of the great unwashed wraps me in its tendrils of rank perfume... Alcohol and mould, sweat and puke... For a second I gag, hardly daring to breath in the muck filled air. The ritual is shattered, a scream... her scream... Muffeled but it's so close. I round the corner, banging through the door. My father has one hand over my sister's mouth, his own slimey face is pressed into her neck, his tongue retracts into that hole he calls a mouth as he pulls back.

"What the Fuck! Let Her Go!" I stand rigid, guitar long forgotten somewhere in the hall, so much for safety today.

Harri gasps as he lets go of her mouth, slipping to her knees, tears streaming her cheeks like a miniature yangtze... Her eyes look straight up into mine, begging for a forgiveness that came unbidden and silently praying that I'll run... But I can't run.... Not whilst he has her in his grip.

"So lil faggy boy has come back to play?"

"Let her go."

"You want me to let this wench go? Well maybe I will," He dropped her wrist and she scrambled away from him, her nerves shattered, "But you're not going anywhere."

........

Matt Dragoon Master