Starscrapers

There were no lanterns in this part of the city. It was new moon, only the stars provided some splintered light. A drum solo of bare feet on the cold slimy cobbles – there were no shoes in this part of the city either – echoed through this maze of narrow alleys, which officially bore the name Werheim-Koren. It was known to everyone however as Death Row. Once this part of Werheim had flourished, but those times were long gone and only a few decayed buildings remained to hint at its glorious past. It was hard to believe that the broad boulevards and the dazzling palaces of Werheim-Centre were only a few miles away. For a person to travel from one of these places to the other would be like travelling between worlds. While the vibrant streets with its famous and important people were the artery of an entire country, Werheim-Koren was waiting for her slow but inevitable death. It was a closed community controlled by the mob, extremely hard for an outsider to get in, impossible for anyone to get out… That is to say, alive.

‘We must get out!’ Faced to the brick wall of our two-chamber apartment I was talking more to myself than to my beloved Khader. She sat on a chair behind me, without looking I knew how here blond hair curled around her neck and shoulders. ‘There must be a way…’ I said as I turned around. Time hadn’t been kind upon on her; it hadn’t been kind on any of us poor rats. But in the failing light of our only candle, electricity had been shut off a long time ago, she looked even more weary than usual. Nothing in her eyes, I could see her resistance crumbling bit by bit, indicated she had a clue as to how or what. Her lips remained motionless, the room fell silent.

It was a cool October morning. I was standing on the corner where Briggestreet crossed Parklane, its ancient oaks as massive statues. With every sigh of wind more leafs began their journey downward. Fascinated I watched how they became acrobats for a brief period of time and performed the most nerve-racking tricks before they embraced the cold bare stones. I could think of more pleasant places to rest my final moments.
This show of nature helped me maintain my role as guileless passenger, who was pausing to enjoy this beautiful day and happened to bump into an old friend. I didn’t know what my old friend would look like this time, but I didnt have to because as always he would recognize my long blue trenchcoat.

The sealed package weighed uncomfortably in my pocket. No matter how many times I had done this and how many times I would do it again, I would never get fully used to it.