100-Word Fiction: ‘Three Candles’

Late on in the evening – and a man walking somewhere, wrapped in his own world, humming a tune. The way that he moved, you could tell what he was like as a little boy. A big boy now with his puffer jacket and trainers.

* *

Coming back from the pub on a clear cold night in November and the sky is a canopy of candles, a cathedral with it’s roof arcing to infinity.

* * *

I am awake and from across the houses I hear a neighbour’s voice. He is shouting into the dark, something indecipherable, yapping at the night like a dog.

Published by MW Bewick

Writer of poetry and place; editor and journalist. Co-founder of Dunlin Press. Books including Pomes Flixus, The Orphaned Spaces and Scarecrow are available from http://dunlinpress.bigcartel.com

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: