Between The Prongs

I wasn’t too intrigued by the idea of selling myself to dirty men off the street, but the money was good and I figured it was only temporary. So, for a while, I was nocturnal, sleeping by day and working by night. Then one night, a new card was on the table. A small bag of fine cut powder which promised the ultimate experience. And as a bonus my regular client let me take a trip with him, to a land that made the world’s peak look like the scum wedged between the prongs of Satan’s pitchfork.


That began the descent from being deemed ‘just about acceptable’ in society to the fires of hopelessness. My existence became an unfathomable thrill-ride   of addiction and self-destruction.


Before I knew it, I was depending on the barely adequate generosity of strangers, flicking some coins my way as I lay broken on the concrete. Life became an unbearable battle. But, from some benevolent source, I found the strength to hold on.


The End

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