As I'm walking, I come across a lot of people. People who are smiling, people who are sad, people who are laughing and people who are bland. The further I get away from the central area of the city, the less lively it becomes. Instead of groups of people, I see people walking by themselves who just simply want to get home, myself included. Big bright buildings, slowly turn into dim commercial buildings. I stop at bus stop, I might as well check the times. One bus comes by in ten minutes, and drops me at Jackson Rd. A minute walk away from the apartment. Might be easier to just wait for the bus than walk in the rain. I sit down at the stop, where there is a cover from the rain, and wait.
Four minutes go by, a bus arrived, but its not the one I need. Three people get off, and Seven people get on. Now, I'm by myself at the stop. The sounds of the rain hit the floor fill my ears as it soothes my brain. Making me forget about my troubles and more importantly, my old job. A lot of people hate the rain, personally I find it relaxing. I've always been fascinated by nature. I used to go fishing with my dad a lot too. My mum always said that the world has plenty in store to show you, but you have to go out there and see it. She probably meant that I have to work for my experiences, or that I have to go outside my personal bubble. I guess she was right though, there are tons of things I've seen and done here.
I've never really understood my family, not as much as my mother though. I loved my mother, as for the rest of them... could you count this as love? Does looking up to them, acknowledging them, spending time with them count as love? I've done a lot of things with my family. We went on holidays, outings, a plethora of things. But when I look at them in the face. Do they truly matter that much to me?
As the rain flows down the street, leaves flow down with it along with some other stuff. As I'm staring at the water going down, I notice something within the water. It has the colour of dark red, and there is more by the second. It travels like string in a current and like many strings, I'm willing to bet it has a beginning. I get up from the bus stop benches and out of the cover. Looking behind the stop, there is an alleyway. I begin to compilate about investigating and when I do, more people arrive, and the street becomes slightly more crowded. People fill the stop with barely any room for me, so I might as well go check out where the red is coming from. I open my umbrella and walk into the alley.
There is a lot of turns in here, there is little to no light and it smells horrible. The air burns my nose as I go deeper in, making me nauseous and light headed at the same time. The smell has gotten stronger, meaning I'm getting closer. As I get closer to the source of the smell, my mind runs with possibilities of what is in front of me. However, if I'm walking through all this muddy water, just to see a dead rat, I'm going to throw it into the nearest open window I see.
I'm deep in the alley now, there is no more light and I'm relying on my phones flashlight to navigate. The narrow passage twists and turns, its walls slick with moisture, casting eerie shadows that seem to dance with every flicker of light. Rain that used to be soothing is now echoing, making me more cautious. The air is heavy with the scent of decay, digging into my head and making me sick.
Something hits my shoe. Startled, I freeze in place. I point down the phones flashlight to the object I bumped into. A baseball cap with the city's local team imprinted on it. It moves past my foot and I watch as it moves behind me on top of a nearby sewer grate, where water is rushing into. I point the light in front of me. Revealing the person who owned said cap.