The Writers' Circle

On the corner of a busy manchester city street, a man sits. He sits lonely and shaggy like lone Wolf. 

He sits in wait ready to pounce on his next rich victim.

Wolf's hans shake: a sign that he is ready for his quich fix, that will give him solace from the horror of the world.

So there he waits and watches people just like him walk past. Confusion on his 
mind, he had the same life....sometime ago.

His mind wanders back.

Images flash. A soft heat warms his chest. Friends and family. A slow smile spreads across his face.

The love and joy that was then and now lost. The look of happinesss in his lovers eyes.....tears spilt because of him.

His screams echo in his mind, screams of mental pain.

But now, here he is, waiting for the gaurdian angel to grant him peace from this monstrosity that peopple call life.

Smells of food sllither up his nostrils like a snake down to the insides of his belly.
Thunder rolls overhead. The harsh splater of rain pounds on the floor.

Please god, please god! release me from this hell!

He walks away with nothing but an empty stomach, a day without his artificail solace and the pain that screams and never shuts up.