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Weekly Contest #105
Darkness surrounds me like a balmy overcoat in the snow. The drapes on the window of my room are never drawn and only the most persistent sunrays enter during the day. As at night, light from the bulbs and tubes of my neighbours and beyond coalesce terrifyingly and slither in from under the doorway. I haven’t always been perverse to light. I used to play football at the Methodist High School in the city of my birth. Our coach was a nun of the name Ms Hargreaves. Her skin was devoid of any lustre, gnarled, it looked as if it would relinquish ...
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