By Kaisera Kanwar
The 1st day
Sirens awakened the Moonman from his boozy slumber.
The 2nd day
His hangover left him soon after the rigid limbs were caressed by the mortician.
The 3rd day
A flutter of paper, stuttering sex workers and clicks of a pen droned for hours at end.
The 4th day
The Moonman was desperate. He fought. He argued. He hit, again. He killed, again.
The 5th day
She wasn’t found, she wasn’t as important. But the gun was.
The 6th day
The solemn, smoking sergeant knew enough to guess, but still too less.
The 7th day
The Moonman ; a crescent inked onto his neck and a face just as cratered with scars and pockmarks. Repeat offender. Madman. Drunkard. Lost soul. 6ft 3 inches.
The 8th day
He chose bottles of booze to escape rather than boats. He could have, he just didn’t.
The 9th day
The sergeant was ready to tighten the noose. Evidence in place, bullets in case.
The 10th day
The moonman heard whispers around the brothel and bar. They were coming for him.
The 11th day
He sat next to the sea. Fight or flight, all his life.
The 12th day
They found him. He found her. She found eternal silence.
After all he was hunting for a star to shine with him in the pitch dark. (Misery loves company)
She was corrupted as was he and in that lay their destiny…..