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Who: Élodie Desmarais and Ben Dunstan
What: Lo and Ben run into one another
Where: Near Crane Hill asylum, London
When: 4th May, around nine
Rating: PG
Status: Open; complete
His feet kicked the litter on the pavement, trainers pushing at crisp bags and empty Coke cans until they rolled into the gutters. It was dark, the dusty blue of early evening bleeding into navy; the last remaining rays of sunlight creeping up the sides of the houses around him, a red almost the colour of blood dancing across grey. The houses here were all small, the majority with glassless windows and boards over the doors, and the most interesting thing on the landscape was the sprawling Crane Hill asylum, it's stately beauty destroyed by street yobs and age.
Rocking onto the balls of his feet, he heard the rubbish behind him rustle and he turned slightly, glancing back over his shoulder. The youths seemed to have decided to use the small city estate as a dumping ground, the road and pavement littered with crisp bags, beer cans, condoms, needles and everything else under the sun. Few, if any, of the residents complained, the scorch marks and put through windows of those who had complained testament as to why.
Ben had half a mind to complain as his foot slid in what he though- or, rather, hoped- was mashed up banana.
"Disgusting," he murmured and stepped backwards. Something brushed against his ankle and he looked down. Grey body, pink tail. He did not stop to really think about whether it was a rat, or a mouse. A strangled sound escaped his throat and he jumped slightly, attempting to land on the thing's head and instead missing, his feet coming down on a empty packet of Walker's Cheese and Onion.
What: Lo and Ben run into one another
Where: Near Crane Hill asylum, London
When: 4th May, around nine
Rating: PG
Status: Open; complete
His feet kicked the litter on the pavement, trainers pushing at crisp bags and empty Coke cans until they rolled into the gutters. It was dark, the dusty blue of early evening bleeding into navy; the last remaining rays of sunlight creeping up the sides of the houses around him, a red almost the colour of blood dancing across grey. The houses here were all small, the majority with glassless windows and boards over the doors, and the most interesting thing on the landscape was the sprawling Crane Hill asylum, it's stately beauty destroyed by street yobs and age.
Rocking onto the balls of his feet, he heard the rubbish behind him rustle and he turned slightly, glancing back over his shoulder. The youths seemed to have decided to use the small city estate as a dumping ground, the road and pavement littered with crisp bags, beer cans, condoms, needles and everything else under the sun. Few, if any, of the residents complained, the scorch marks and put through windows of those who had complained testament as to why.
Ben had half a mind to complain as his foot slid in what he though- or, rather, hoped- was mashed up banana.
"Disgusting," he murmured and stepped backwards. Something brushed against his ankle and he looked down. Grey body, pink tail. He did not stop to really think about whether it was a rat, or a mouse. A strangled sound escaped his throat and he jumped slightly, attempting to land on the thing's head and instead missing, his feet coming down on a empty packet of Walker's Cheese and Onion.
