Short fiction

Embers and Clouds

The lights from the block of flats opposite glittered on the black river in front of me. I counted them: one, two, three.

Sitting back on the bench I had claimed for the evening, I tilted my head slightly skywards. The pink glare of the streetlights was etched among the low grey clouds. One drip, two drips of cold rain fell lightly onto my face. One of them trickled down my cheek. I stuck my tongue out of the side of my mouth, tasting my alcohol-laced lips before catching the rain on its tip.

I leant forwards slightly, lifting my right hand as I did so. My lit cigarette found its way to my tainted lips and I took a deep drag, exhaling into the chilly night air and watching as the smoke rose to lie among the clouds. I used to think that was where clouds came from; smoke from chimneys, or power plants. I couldn't think of how else they might have got up there.

Large ripples began to interrupt the minuscule waves already bobbing gently on the river. I watched as they unfolded from the right hand side, before a small bird, maybe a moorhen or a duck, emerged into the glare still cast by the windows in the otherwise dark block of flats on the opposite bank. It glided slowly across the light, splitting the reflections in two, before it was gone and all that remained of its presence to the naked eye were the ripples on the water's surface emanating from the little bird's feet.

It was odd to see how much effect that one little bird had on the water. It was so graceful, so silent, yet the waves of its actions resonated long after its departure.

I wondered if my actions would have the same sort of impact. Flashes of memory illuminated my thoughts. I blinked in an attempt to clear them but the images seemed to be burned into the darkness cast by my eyelids when they obscured my true vision. Too many regrets. Too many mistakes. I didn't want those things to haunt me even now, much less be remembered in years to come.

I leant back once more, my back melting against the wooden slats of the fading green bench. I think it was green. It was too dark to tell and the contents of the plastic bottle in my left hand had somewhat slowed my thoughts. I gazed upon that bottle for a moment, before lifting it to my lips and tasting the sweet hit of nectar that flowed over my tastebuds.  I swapped the bottle neck at my lips for the end of my cigarette and watched the smoke once again rise to settle among the air and the clouds.

It just blended in, just like that. It had merged in my mind with the thick, grey sky, although it had most likely been blown away on the light breeze fluttering between the trees. It was gone so quickly, leaving no trace of its existence.

I took a deep breath of pure night air. I did not want my own existence to be so quickly forgotten. But slouched on that bench, blending into my surroundings, I didn't see how it could be otherwise. It would be so easy to disappear. To become ash and smoke and be swallowed up into the clouds.

But I wanted so badly to burn so brightly.

The bottle had found its way to my lips once more. I drank. Everything seemed to register a little clearer around me. This was not what I was aiming for. The three solitary lights still glistened in the water at my feet. The trees surrounding me whispered with the secrets of the night. I really didn't want to hear what they had to say; I knew it all already. I could feel it, as I sunk deeper into the recesses of the bench, my dark jacket and my dark jeans and my dark shoes and my dark hat sinking with me. I was merging with the night as I had watched my cigarette smoke swirling amongst the clouds.

I glanced down at the offending cigarette. It was almost as obscured by the night as I was. But for the glowing orange ember at the tip.

It glistened amid the heavy darkness, buoyed with the energy of fire. That tiny rim of light, burning its way through the night air. But it was also scorching its way lower and lower down the cigarette. I put it to my lips. And inhaled. The embers flickered into life and illuminated my fingertips. But even as I watched, they slowly sunk back into slumber as I withdrew my catalytic kiss.

I leant forward. I flicked the cigarette out of my right hand and watched as it spiralled away into the water. It alighted upon the surface and faint ripples reverberated at its touch, distorting the already wavery outlines of the building lights.

I leant further forward. I took another long drink of the sweet contents of the bottle in my left hand. I transferred it to my right hand. And stood up. Time to go. I could not slow my thoughts forever. At the same time, a pair of headlights shone in indecent brightness from the road on the opposite bank and filled my pupils. Glancing away, I noticed that it had illuminated a flash of white on my sneakers. Then all was darkness once more. I turned, and began to walk away. I walked three paces, before pausing, left hand replaced in the deep recesses of a pocket, right fingers clutching weakly at the plastic bottle encased in their grip. Something had changed in the atmosphere. Slowly, I turned on the spot, to face the bench I had just released myself from.

The lights from the block of flats opposite glittered on the black river in front of me. I counted them. One, two, three...

Four.

Jenny Duck