The sun was setting. Far to the east, threatening black clouds arose from the
fumes of pollution from the several smoke stacks towering over the city. The
streets were pock marked and dented with the recent shower of acid rain. Hot
boiling steam from the sewers made the temperature of day much hotter than it
really was. Just outside the borders of the city is a lake covered with muck and
crude oil spills. Death and despair floated aimlessly on the surface of the
unhospitable body of water. Corpses of dead fish, seagulls... bobbed just under
the rim of the black slime. The black slime sensing fresh prey, extended it's
corrupt and revolting tendrils farther...until it caught another unsuspecting
victim, choking and engulfing, destroying, leaving just another emtpy shell
behind, devoid of any life. Night set in, the stars were obscured by thick
blankets of smoke. The day was done. Stores got ready to lock up and street
lights were turned on to aid the bread winners, so they may travel safely. Few
were fortunate enough to own automobiles so they could avoid the cold dangerous
streets and dark alleyways. Most shops were already abandoned, finished for the
day.
Yet few doors were still open, desperate for any last minute customers. One
such shopkeeper was Phil Anderson. Anderson had worked as a pharmacist for most
of his life. At forty, he had little to show for. The pollution that caused the
gradual decay of the city had had negative effects on business, as well as the
environment. Phil, though by all means not an old man, showed signs of premature
aging. His skin was pale and dry, wrinkled by the everyday punishment of the
deteriorating sorroundings. Few strands of grayish white hair lined his almost
bald, dandruff infested scalp. Looking at Phil with his characteristic limp,
slouched posture and bulging belly one might think him an extremely unathletic
person. But then again it was not entirely his fault. His eyes were red and
bloodshot, the glasses he wore only made these features more obvious. With
shaking skinny hands, Phil slowly put away the last of the items on top of the
counter. Finally done, he flicked off the lights and rummaged through his
pockets for his keys. Looking one last time to make sure the shop was in order,
Phil locked up the store and left. He failed t o notice a dark shadow spying on
him as he counted the bills he had earned today, and put it away into his black
leather wallet. The tall dark figure studied the pharmacist a while longer
before trailing him. The narrow dirty street smelled of weeks old garbage and
animal wastes. Smog was still thick in the air causing him to cough repeatedly.
He stopped for a moment to catch his breath. Remembering his air filter in his
pocket, Phil gingerly took it out and put it on. Feeling much better Phil
continued down the street, heaving a sigh of relief.
Bibliography
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