Monday, November 19, 2012

Postcode G40

You open the door and an empty syringe wrapper lies by the frame, half a footstep flattening the end.

You open the door and discarded beer bottle sits neatly on the jamb.

You open the door and a spray of blood still young enough to not yet be brown draws a line across your path, significant enough that you cannot not see it, when ever you open the door.

You open the door and upon the second storey landing stands a young man already an old man smoking a cigarette. The ash is short. The door before him shows no sign of opening, and he is wholly indifferent to it. A gaunt face made harder by dirty light and suspicion. Your own. He stares.  You look away. You fasten both locks. You put distance and doors between you and him..

You open the door and the hallway light globe flickers with a fear that keeps time with your heart.


  1. I remember those feelings well from living in Baltimore...

  2. I could imagine how you felt, but now I understand it and I'm so glad you got out. Only wish you'd escaped earlier. Stay in lovely Wilmington dammit.

  3. Speaking of escaping bad places, how long as you going to be in G40? Surely there's better to be had in both housing and jobs... I've never heard anything good about Glasgow proper as a place to live, honestly.