Rain hammered against the window, angry. Like it had a vendetta against the Weatherspoons I was hiding in the corner of. I’ve always preferred the corner seats, probably because they usually have a sofa - they also have the advantage of being an excellent vantage for people watching (one of the only benefits of being surrounded by people).
Sat there, I found myself dreading the inevitable ride home. I really don’t want to in this rain. Hopefully, my saddle won’t be too wet, though that is just wishful thinking.
Suddenly, the door of the restaurant bashed open and in he walked, breaking my stream of thought. His navy blue sauconys gleaming with droplets of rain reflecting the yellowish light of the restaurant. Once white socks now flecked with mud peaking out of the top of his trainers.
Dark hair covered his lean muscular legs, which were only wearing shorts despite the awful weather. His waterproof had been sprayed in mud almost like a brown murder scene. Blue eyes glistened with the excitement from the adrenaline still remnant from the run. They matched his trainers perfectly and I marvelled at how happy he genuinely seemed.
Running in that weather would be hell!
Nodding briskly at the slightly sceptical man at the bar, he makes his way past the gawks and gaping mouths to my little corner booth. Striding confidently, unashamed with no shred of embarrassment.
“If you think you are going to sit here and get me muddy you are out of your mind!”
He laughs at me and takes the seat opposite on the wooden chair. Peeling off his sodden waterproof carefully and draping it across the back of the chair, trying not to flick mud everywhere.
Young hands pluck the menu from the centre of the table and he begins to scan. I do nothing. Samson looks up and asks,
“Are you alright?” He cocked his head slightly to the side then a small smirk spread across his face: “You are never this quiet.”
I kick his ankle under the table and he just laughs. Mildly angry, I take a menu and glance at the options, Scampi seems like the best choice, I haven’t had it in ages.
“Daisy? Daisy Harris?” My eyes snap up, the London accent unfamiliar.
Samson turned round, intrigued. A professional looking lady with a laptop bag under her arm stared at me. Her eyes were dark brown and looked helpless and lost, like a baby deer. Immaculately painted finger nails in a deep purple betrayed her fear as they were quivering.
“You are Daisy Harris right?” She paused for a few seconds, waiting for a response she wouldn’t get. She persisted, clearly in a hurry “The detective?”
Her eyes flicked to Samson “And you must be Samson?”
“Yes” Samson replied, I shot him a look. I didn’t want any more cases at the minute, and he knew that I wanted a break, I needed a break.
“My name is Alice, and….”
Then she said the words I was dreading: “I need your help”.
Leaning against the window frame, They jumped out swiftly, Becoming one with the night
The black clothing and mask coated them; Intimidating and ominous. Providing the means to be anonymous
A helpful warning to stay away, Like how a tree frog sports bright colours To alert potential predators And avoid slaughter
The only difference: This was the predator Waiting until nightfall to pounce
Like a tiger hiding amongst the blades The darkness helped them blend into the night Synthetic camouflage: The weapon we all fear
Never knowing who killed us
Don’t turn the light off I need my night light The bright stars help me Sleep through the night Singing songs of youth
Don’t turn the light off My heart aches to see I want someone to love me I need the light to see Singing songs of adolescence
Don’t turn the light off Then I can’t find my glasses They hide away from me Then the night passes Singing songs of lost time
Don’t turn the light off The night is dark Tall trees terrify me With wrinkled crinkled bark Singing songs of old age
Don’t turn the light off The end is near What will happen to me Without the light I can only fear The song of death
Your fearful eyes Reflected at me Sharp dark blade You feel threatened
I own something Something that’s yours Your secret My ammunition
But now my death is near Feeling your breath on my face Your eyes are the last I see Before I descend to the grave
But one thing you forgot Something you overlooked Killing me isn’t enough Even the dead tell stories
Pale hazel haunting Shadow behind my eyes Always there, lurking A simple compromise
Soft whispers echo Distracting me too Showing me the window Back to you
Should I travel Ghosts I follow Story yet to unravel Empty and hollow
Now you chase me Silently amongst stones It’s you I can’t see Hiding behind their bones
Should I choose this Or let you go? Stay for a last kiss…. Or free the crow?
Mouth parched Licking my cracked lips With a tongue roughed Toxic relationships
So thirsty for knowledge Knowing everything Everyone acknowledge You are worshiping
Superiority in knowing Intelligence and wisdom Need possessing Corrupted system
I am in the know But that’s not always Worth the show Worth the praise
Eating me up inside Secrets, stories Absorbed wide-eyed Foreign territories
Knowing should never Cause regret or sadness Should I endeavour Fixing mistakes from predecessors
Stooped under the weight Having too much Behind the gates No one can touch
Fragile, delicate, breakable Tiptoe around My mind overflowable Be gentle, don’t make a sound
Secrets strain Liberty in their hearts Endless pain Breaking me into parts
Unrecognisable to me Knowledge’s power Absolute over me Locked in a tower
“Mind forged manacle” What did he know? Spoken by a radical Maybe not so
What knowledge did he possess Over me which Caused so much distress Mind glitch
Knowledge is dangerous In the wrong hands Or it could save us From our own commands
Knowing is a gift Intelligence, wisdom Cause a rift In our system
You can’t return What was given to you Even if you burn From what you knew
I can never go back To blissful ignorance Unfortunate drawback From my perseverance
“Ignorance is bliss” “Knowledge is power” Pick from this Which be your superpower?
I picked wrong Pick yours right Or your tongue Will be as dry as mine
