Short Story: 'A Busy Street'

by Sophie Escott

(image: Naseem Buras)

A busy street. 

You hear the deafening roar of sirens, you smell the overwhelming odor of car exhaust fumes,

The air is tinted with a thick, grey fog. 

You see a sea of black umbrellas, pedestrians shielding themselves from the freezing balls of water descending from the sky. The pavement is littered with grubby tissues and half-eaten McDonalds.

Every shop I walk past, there are dozens of people huddled up in the entrance, looking for shelter. 

As you wander down the dark, dingy street, your path is lit up by small telephone screens. You hear the faint murmur of businessmen, making calls to distant lands. You feel cold, and soggy, longing for just one cup of hot tea. Your nose is now fluorescent, making you appear to look like Rudolph. 

Suddenly, there is a wave of hurrying pedestrians, leaping to one side of the pavement. You are in a state of utter confusion, but decide to follow. Then, like a lighting bolt, a Deliveroo cyclist whizzes past. 

You begin to smell the scent of a hot kebab, as you turn the corner. You start to salivate, as you haven’t eaten for what feels like days. There is a crowd of people offering something money, then as you draw nearer, you spot a soaking old man, wearing a white apron in front of a steaming barbecue. 

Finally, after resisting the temptation of a nice, steamy kebab, you make it to your last destination, the bus stop.