Moving Forward >>

I hate situations when you know the only way to go is forward.On a sunday night, like now, i stand infront of the dark corridor that leads upto my place. A lone street lamp in its final stages of life flickers once in a while. In the faltering lights, i see a pair of steady ones lurking behind the sly dust bins.I rear up a lot.Flex my muscles a little. A deep breath in, one hand placed near the pocket. I pick up speed, hurtling along and plunge into the darkness.The lamp flickers one more time.Time warps.Shifty eyes turn alert. I issue a heart-rending, soul-splitting war cry;Out comes the first stone from my pocket.Smack! Right,in the face of chasing mongrel.Rest is as he says: history