The night was glazed over by the diluted iridescence of street lamps. On a crowded rooftop, dark feathered birds huddled in collective masses, transforming into shadows. Every so often a bird would stretch its wings and the shadow would morph and twist, as if it had sinew and bones. Heat soaked the city until a deep fog wove into the streets and suffocated the sleeper's sweet dreams. Between the cracks of the sidewalks, tangled amidst the roots of demanding trees, pounded the heartbeat of the city. The same thump thump, thump thump palpitations of the restless city resided in the heart of a sleeping Audrie Seville.

On a fishing boat, south of the disquieted city abed with fog, a spark gasped to life. In its wonder it beheld the world anew for several seconds: the water as it sparkled under the beam of a flashlight moon, the shore not farther than a stone’s throw to the sandbar, the murder of an honest man. The spark was so intrigued by these sights that it held on tightly to the side of the vessel and it spread and grew and gave new life to everything it touched. The fire-webbed veins of the spark branched out until the entire ship and its sole passenger were engulfed in flame.

From the shore the small boat reminded one of a Viking funeral. It stayed lit and maneuvered the water aimlessly for several minutes until it was finally dragged below the surface of the cool water. The veins of the ocean were strong and pulled in the burning mass, like a mother to her lifeless child, wanting the closeness of a forgotten womb.

(More to come...maybe?)