Columns of light and day

Shocked from dreams of night and day by sharpness in the air that made more than three leave the laundrettes at a speed unforeseen. With supermarket smiles and a haircut for life, surges of energy manhandled the feet through momentary columns of light shielding him from a darkness not yet known.

The movement made the hours go by and so grow taller and closer to his goal. Goal was the only place he would ever be allowed to play. His large feet made it almost imposable to score past but he dream was to be a person to score in the other goal. Sleepless nights and been wasted on these hopes to no fruition. Opening the door to his ramshackle hovel, many would hardly call it a home but it is here where our hero had decided to set himself up for a little while he looked around at the now familiar sights of rounded corners and sloping stairs. Darkness was in shade and lingered even when shutters were opened.

Tacking the hefty bag of his diminutive back, gestures were made to suggest a lightening of the load, but truthfully the bag contained nothing but sweet air harvested from the filters of tumble dryers was nothing to much for a wee ant.

High up in the far reaches of the twisting turning attic among the clouds and rickety stairs stood a knee high table lovingly held to the light by its owner, a small unimportant lady of shadows. To her the contents of the bag are given. Slowly a small amount of colour returns to her face and the eyes clear and the look of determination replace fractured thoughts of loss and bewilderment.

Stooping to touch the brow of the feverish lady he whispers words of conciliation into the air, raises the mighty bag to his deformed back and heads down the miles of uneven stairs to go about his business of purchasing the purest of air.