Vintage Soul
“Donovan stepped into an alley three blocks from the barrio on 43rd Street and the blue and white flashing lights of the police gathered at the abandoned cathedral winked out. It was a strange sensation, like floating in an ocean of gelatin, or walking through very heavy rain. It passed quickly, but it never failed to unnerve him slightly.
At the other end of the alley, he hesitated for just a moment and scanned the street in either direction. His neighbors were used to seeing him in strange company, but he didn’t see any reason to give them more of an eyeful than was necessary. The sight of him trundling along with a hand-made knapsack of occult bric-a-brac with an old flea-bitten crow perched on top might be enough to get them talking, and if there was too much talk he’d either have to do something about it…or move. He also didn’t want to draw attention to the alley. You could only tell it was there if you stood at the correct angle. If you looked directly at it, you saw n...othing but a continuation of the wall on either side. It was the closest portal to his home, and Donovan counted on it for quick, silent getaways.MoreLess
At the other end of the alley, he hesitated for just a moment and scanned the street in either direction. His neighbors were used to seeing him in strange company, but he didn’t see any reason to give them more of an eyeful than was necessary. The sight of him trundling along with a hand-made knapsack of occult bric-a-brac with an old flea-bitten crow perched on top might be enough to get them talking, and if there was too much talk he’d either have to do something about it…or move. He also didn’t want to draw attention to the alley. You could only tell it was there if you stood at the correct angle. If you looked directly at it, you saw n...othing but a continuation of the wall on either side. It was the closest portal to his home, and Donovan counted on it for quick, silent getaways.MoreLess
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