Sunset

One afternoon I was walking along a narrow alleyway. Pinched in the breath of two buildings, my footsteps echoing through the dark corridors, I was surrounded by the orange and pink of the reflected sky. It was an eerie and unique illusion - every color bounced from the bricks and cobblestone, reflecting what was above it like a psychedelic mirror. To my left was a thick brick wall, with peeling red paint that fell off in ash-like flakes, their dance in the wind patterned perfectly in the light. On my right were the long shadows of the day, stretching over doors and windows like abstract nightmares, as thinly spread as the thoughts running through my mind.

The wind howled down the thin gap, screaming in my ears, and the trees behind protested in its passing with an agitated rustling of leaves. I looked up, the shadows of the buildings cast overhead, and a thin, red strip of sky painted between the narrow space. A rusty ladder called to my hands, so I climbed it to get a better view. Flakes of rust peeled off onto my hands as I climbed, higher than the horizon, but I didn't care. The wind swayed like a pendulum, carrying the smells of an entire day across the world. As I climbed, the shadows lessened and the light grew strong, reflecting off the metal sidings like a million shards of fire.

I lifted my head above the edge of the building, and the disc of the sun nearly blinded me. It hovered in the sky, a clock without hands, granting an entire world with its light. The normally grey buildings below burst into vibrant shades of red and orange, their windows and doors making small faces at me, and the dark waters of the harbour sparkled with the reflected sky. The escarpment rose out of a two-dimensional plane into the reality of the dawning sleep, and the hills and mountains stretched their long shadows across the city. The birds circled overhead, heading back to their nests, and somewhere in the distance, a gull cried out loud. I closed my eyes and the light of the sunset still pierced through me.

Hand by hand, I descended, and as I did, the sun did too. By the time I jumped off at the bottom, the sky was dark once more. The houses lining the roadside stared at me with dark faces, their countenances painted in shades of grey. The water of the harbour lapped noisily and greedily, no longer bright, but dim with pollution. Not a single bird marked the sky. All that was left was a memory of light, the bright spots that still appeared on my closed eyelids.

But as I walked home in the shadows, I took the chance and looked up. The stars were out.