On My Way

Peter was exhausted, he was starving, and he smelled like shit. He walked on down the street of cluttered houses, windows cracked, the walls had spots of paint, the rest of it had chipped off, the doors looked as if they would fall over at the slightest breeze or air to sweep through the neighborhood. Peter tried not to look around too much, he could see lights inside the houses, faces staring out at him, he did not want to invade their privacy. He heard gun shots in the distance and strange animal sounds, he shivered at the thought of his arrival home. He walked on slow, he could hear the whispered voices of small groups of people chatting away on their porches as he dragged his feet through the dusty ground, he avoided eye contact so as to not burn their souls to ash. Peter had made a big promise, a strong commitment, they were the least of his worries. He strided carelessly on, looking for some side street he could turn onto and finish his journey into perilous doom, the road was long, monotonous, and he could see no end to it, just beat up old homes and flickering porche lights. He looked at his watch "11:59" he said aloud, so as to confirm that it was really the time, just a few blocks away he could hear the bell tower ring 12 times. "I'm home."