SHORT STORIES                                                                       (Copyright - Pierre du Toit)
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ALLEY

His purple body thuds against the wall and sinks onto the cold grey ground. His hands hold down his brains, he shakes, the spirits shake his brains against the concrete wall the concrete sky the ground.

He waits.

The smell of urine smell crawls behind his eyes, calming, the mother of the streets. The dancing's done, the toyi-toyi of his mind is still. The walls around him wait. Inside the cave it's dark, deeper in, a large dark shape...a covered skip for waste...the fiery eyes keep snarling past the cave mouth clawing round the walls but he’s too deep, he's safe against the fangs, the only teeth are in his gut and those, at least, he knows.

He waits.

The spirits in his purple brains are quiet and he wonders if they're dead. A figure, arms beside its trunk, a rushing light, a blink across the face, then hope, and danger, pass. His urine sooths him. If a boy child bears his mother, is he then his brother? The liquid warmth which holds him cools.

He waits.

A sister? Her eyes are moons her teeth are bared with straight white warnings, silent tombstones as he struggles up, the wall fights back then breaks his knees and down he goes "So what’s this, brother?" as the quiet moons caress his face.

She lifts her hand, reaches for his purple skin, his sister's reaching for her brother, children of the alleys, a common, salty mother, her neck is turned a smooth black flow it gleams within the night...and then the stabbing flame two burning suns, the hand, away and inward to the silent teeth, clings and buries every sign of life. And yet, the moons are full. The moons are stark and full. "Run! Run! They'll get you too.” Her heels the tires grind the stone she falls into the raging stream of light a siren screeches so well known to both from youth, so feared, his face goes grey the terror hurls him through the cave, throws him  legs all legs a spider falling in the skip he falls into the nest and falls and falls his senses quiver with discarded smells of life the trapdoor slams above...silence in the stench of wealth.

He waits.

"Whore!"

"You'll never take me, pigs!"

"Like fuck we won't!"

His eyes are timid creatures peeping from the hole. A blue coat, heavy, buttons, badges keepers of the peace, it waits, another figure moves upon his silent sister, a knitted face, a borrowed darkness swinging from the beating trunk which bores and grinds the sister's life into the cold, the blue coat shouts: "Get off get off, you cannot fuck the bitch all night."

Once more the moons flash wide, they light the alley, explode into the sky and blow new stars into the night...and then they cool then freeze then loose their light their whiteness stark the darkness now complete. He falls and falls and falls.

He waits.

He cowers in the corner when the trapdoor lifts. A scuffle, mumbled fucks and grunts and then the oozing air around him shakes the sister as she falls into his world and lies there, still and calm, with no complaint.

He waits. She doesn't move.

His purple now is sober black. He reaches, slowly, feels around the universe. His fingers, softly, touch the sticky tears which run behind her broken head.

Her hand is small, she doesn't pull away or clench a fist, receives him gently, like a sister would, with shyness, no resistance. He holds her, holds her.

"It's alright my sister, it's all alright, I am here now, it’s all alright."

He pulls her head against his chest his tears are salty, hers against his lips are sweet.

"Alright sister, all alright now."

And deep within the steamy night the smiling man is fast asleep and does not feel the coldness as it settles, stiffly, through his new found friend.

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