A FALLEN LIFE
PHOTO PROMPT © Yarnspinnerr
By Neel Anil Panicker
These walls__the plaster all peeled off; the smell__dank, an all pervasive nauseatingly pungent odour so clinging that it threatens to lather me all over.
The roof above is a hallapolooza of cuts and bruises, the fan hanging down from it a twisted mass of archaic metal__ it’s fate worse than one facing the hangman’s noose.
Crestfallen, I slumber out.
A voice, doused in whisky besides last night’s gastronimic indulgences, croaks.
I stop dead in my track.
Crestfallen and now on my knees, I succumb to the lure, and slowly retrace my steps to resume what’s left of my debauched existence.
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