A grimm tale

We come now to a place that was once a mechanic's garage. The whole block was purchased by a man of means, and gut remodels have been completed in all the old brick buildings except this one.

This one has become storage for things unwanted.

Bare concrete is occupied with stacks of dusty furniture, a broken hydraulic lift, and rat-nested boxes of magazines or books and receipts from forty years of businesses that occupied this side street off of the main drag.

A meandering path is cut through the forest of yesteryear's calendars and filing cabinets, and it opens into a clearing lit by a cracked skylight.

In a pool of starshine, glowing as if center stage beneath a spotlight, she lies.

Oil-stained concrete gives way to a bare, yellowed mattress.

Bare, yellowed mattress gives way to a bared, stained girl.

Bared, stained girl gives herself away so easily.

He took her, those months ago, when she strayed off the beaten after wandering away from the Greyhound bus station. That logo leers in her fevered dreams between his visits; she sees a silver, sleek running wolf in her deepest moments of need, and she prays for just one more beautiful release.

Thoughts of home fade when memories seep from her veins, and she is weightless as she floats into the warm oranges and reds of sweet surrender. Not even her worn, dirty crimson hoodie can comfort her as much as the poison that flows so sweetly.

Silver, slender fangs bite into her, but she welcomes the peace as she is consumed one fix at a time.

In a pool of starshine, glowing as if center stage beneath a spotlight, the savage beast of a man claims his prize.

We now draw the curtain, leaving the hunter with the hunted, in this place that has become storage for things unwanted so far from the gaze of grandmothers and woodsmen.