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Weekly Contest #230
Now. ‘The problem is you don’t want to work,’ Eddie slurred, zipping up his flies. ‘Here, here, here…I’ll tell you what, I’ll give you this dollar,’ he unrolled one from a gold clip, ‘if you can tell me why you don’t have a job, eh?’ He waved it back and forth slowly in front of the man’s eyes. Eddie pulled the collar on his Burberry cashmere car coat further up around his ears, a barrier against the harsh bite of the winter sleet falling steadily onto him. And the man sat silently at his feet. He held a cardboard sign, on it was handwritt...
Jon ‘Jon? Jon? Can you hear me, Jon?’ Someone was speaking to me, battling against the busker’s song carried on the wind off the Thames. I opened one eye then the other, but closed it again when the blood stung, and I gagged when a coppery trace reached my mouth. I panicked then, tried to sit upright. The paramedic pushed me back down flat with a single hand – I was weak, I didn’t resist. I tilted my head. Light blurred in a hazy trail from the lampposts. I saw the feet of a crowd gathered around me, a loose circle, gradually dispersing a...
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