Snowy fleece of winter clouds furnished the bright blue sky like a calm lake dotted with sailboats. Icy cold whistling winds blended with the rich orange glow of sunrays as they climbed the old skin eroding on a fisherman's face. Sitting on the muddy creeks, he peered into the pale water when a smile rushed from the sacks of gratitude and rippled on his face. Five nights dipped in gloom and desperation are enough to ignite a golden blaze of hope in those longing eyes on gliding over a big fish. Tiny droplets of tears erupted on the glance of his small house which he once called 'home.' Drilling an intense hole in those moments of joy, a tinge of sadness creeped around his wrinkled forehead as there was no loved one left to share those chips of happiness. "Why is the lord so cruel?"
Miles away on the other side of the earth, flickering street lights, pristine skyline and blooming primrose embellished the summer evening of a young man. Standing upon a teetered bridge, he peered into the pitch black water. A smile plucked from the devil's town melted on his lips as his mind dashed through all those fishes he had dumped below over the past ten years. Fishes big enough to be called as humans.Every appetite satisfied with sinister desires and crimson stained liquid skyrocketed his wish for more. He gently stroked his palm over the lush dark hair and wondered if the curse of Erysichthon was cradled in his stone cold heart. "I am not cruel, they are not kind."
Breath of the night wind pierced through the deep trench in his oceanic shirt, digging fiery flames off the dragon tattoo. Naked feet commenced on the streets, getting drenched in ashen gray dust. Shadows and silhouettes carried a thousand mysteries, a thousand more were thriving within the stranger loitering in the city. He was the architect to design a long rope of dangling candles hanging loosely in the form of bright stars across the black canvas of sky. Empty coffins were filled with just one phone call. The trade of lies was a snowballing venture and all he got was enough money to buy chilled bottles brimming with what he called as celestial liquid. Love was never a divine tonic for him because the purest form of love that once sung him lullabies was the first star to be decorated by him in the melancholic sky.