Death and Loss: A Short Narrative Essay

1076 Words 5 Pages
The rain pounds the ground of Belamie Road with its obstinate manner. Still Frankie did not move from his spot on the sidewalk. Now was the best time for him.

His gray eyes cover the space in front of him but he does not take in the site. He is cold, hardened. The look on his face is dark and intriguing, the look that brought the storm.

He leans against the street lamp allowing it’s dim glow to catch his youthful features among the rain and the cold. He lets a smirk dance playfully onto his face as his keen ears pick up the sound of a car.

The smirk is a lie but he knows it helps, and he knows he needs all the help he can get.

The car drives by at the speed limit, something Frankie is used to but not something he likes.
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The rain pounds the ground of Belamie Road with its obstinate manner. Still Frankie did not move from his spot on the sidewalk. Now was the best time for him.

His gray eyes cover the space in front of him but he does not take in the site. He is cold, hardened. The look on his face is dark and intriguing, the look that brought the storm.

He leans against the street lamp allowing it’s dim glow to catch his youthful features among the rain and the cold. He lets a smirk dance playfully onto his face as his keen ears pick up the sound of a car.

The smirk is a lie but he knows it helps, and he knows he needs all the help he can get.

The car drives by at the speed limit, something Frankie is used to but not something he likes. He sighs and fidgets impatiently under the lamp, his black wet hair flopping in his eyes.

He is half glad the car drove by though he would much rather be out of the cold. He was getting out of the howling night no other way.

His gaze shot up as another car approached. This time it slowed and pulled over to the curb. Frank peered in before sliding onto the seat as the door popped open quietly. He knew he would crawl back to Belamie Street in the morning a beaten and bruised puppy still starved but if he was lucky there would be a few bills in his pocket.

Davey sat motionless. His sharp brown eyes followed the storm soaked boy as Frankie leaned against the gum-stained lamppost in imitative concealed subtlety. Davey resisted

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