By Nathan T

My mind was made up as the clamor of the bazaar boomed around me. I sat drained atop a rickety barstool. The sounds were reminiscent of a heartbeat, as the ensemble of city goers crescendoed in a unified echo before diminishing to nothing more than an idle hum. 

I’d been living in the city for what felt like centuries now. It felt like just yesterday I had been a wide-eyed boy enthralled by the metropolis’s promises of pleasure and wealth, but as weeks blurred into months and months into years I felt myself slowly losing touch with all that surrounded me. Steadily, the bright neon signs seemed to grow dim as hulking billboards’ lost their once vibrant hues. It is as if the entire city was put under a colorless camera filter, as every inch is twinged by dread and despair. Though not many seem to notice as they have already fallen prey to the city’s allure.

I hated the city. I hated the lies, I hated the fake smiles, and I hated myself. The thrumming of the market seemed to blare even louder now. I hated those insignificant merchants, I hated the all-encompassing putrid air, and I hated the disgraceful billboards. The racket in the streets began beating more erratically, and with no sense of rhythm it was nothing more than a frightful wail.

I shifted my attention to a small orange silhouette that sat appetizingly atop the wooden barrel next to my seat. The pale white ovals within it seemed to beg to be eaten. Each globule held promises of relief and numbness. Without a second thought, I popped open the bottle and let the pearls careen down my throat. 

About the Author

Nathan T is a student at Carlmont High School in and is currently immersed in what the world of descriptive writing has to offer.