The Otherworld by Lucy Coult

Love songs smother, an abundance of promise in 3 minutes. Reality suspended

An illness, addiction

She won’t recover.

21, still young, little girl

Songs are promises, promises- her escape into hope.

It’s always best on the metro home.

Silent lumps sit stiffly around her. The day’s grime and rain soaks through their socks.

She changes the song.

The steam on the window warps her view on the world (all for the better)

An assortment of somebody’s half empty plastic bags shiver cold drips off onto the train floor and someone coughs

but she doesn’t hear it, she feels warm with the music in her ears.

The track ends.

Her stop.  All change. The crowds as one body trudge up the stairs.

At the exit, the mass of migrating raincoats and squeaking shoes disperse away from the jaundiced light of the metro station, and into the late autumn gloom.

She walks behind them. The crowd become mere silhouettes, their outlines lit up by the glare of awaiting taxi cabs.

The taxi doors slam. Shivering, she chooses to walk.

The sky is black; softened only by a solitary star.

She stands on the empty street and turns her head up towards the abyss.

Then glancing back down, smiling,

She chooses another love song

And dances home in the dark.

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1 Response to The Otherworld by Lucy Coult

  1. Jennifer S says:

    This is beautiful.

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