I wrote this today, and I just really like it. The prompt was 'downtown' and a picture of a Native American guy. Some feedback suggested it could be a longer piece, and I do think there's a short story there somewhere.
(210)
@Viking_Ma
Travelling Spirit
More taxis than stars in the night honked and barged, squabbling for lane space. The people on the pavements pushed and elbowed to force their way through cracks in the mass. Downtown was packed, heaving, smelly. The skyscrapers leaned in menacingly, blind window-eyes watching.
Behind it all the sky was a putrid yellow, the clouds dull smog wisps. Nobody had seen a tree for six years now, and the only greenery downtown was in the tang of the acid rain.
Even the lowest weeds were grey, scrabbling through the dust and grime. Car tyres kissed the shining roads, and enormous advertising hoardings screamed the next big gleaming things.
These people have chosen their gods, thought the Indian. He had walked through time, seeing the future of his lands with increasingly worried eyes.
He moved his head slowly, observing all he needed to see. The pavement people walked through him, a ghost from a forgotten past. They chased their dreams, frowns and sad eyes discouraging kindness.
He spread his hands and rose above them all, sniffing the sick sky and feeling the dirt in the very air.
There was a loud CLAP! And he whooshed back in time and space to the meeting and the Elders, with bad news to tell.
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