Hunger (Story)

Raindrops, heavy and thick, clattered upon the rooftops and the windowsills. The surface of the road shimmered as the drops fell upon it and broke into infinite little pieces, each a microscopic sphere that smashed against the asphalt and sent out ripples – transforming the road into a mesmerizing snake dancing to the music made by the rain. It was past midnight. Those even moderately respectable were inside, and others were herded in whatever pub or tavern was open at the hour. The road was deserted.

Brad walked quickly. Not because he wanted to avoid the rain, but because he was hungry. It was odd that he should feel hungry in the middle of the night and that he shouldn’t want to anything out of his refrigerator – and he didn’t understand the urgency, but he felt that if he didn’t eat immediately, something terrible would happen. So he had grabbed his raincoat, pulled up his galoshes and rushed out. His favorite haunt from the past, the Red Tipper pub stayed open all night, and it was but a mile from his house. The rain was a minor inconvenience and being wet didn’t matter as much as being hungry did.

At the crossing he turned the corner and stared into the dark alley ahead. The smell of rotting food and churned gutters mixed with the stench of dead rats, stale urine and feces, attacked his acute senses, making him gag.