Run Faster Run

‘…fuck…!’ screamed the alms man, ‘…the world is a disease and I am getting colder by the minute…’. A whittle of a boy scurried past, the alms man cheering him on like a proud father. A second boy, his neck swollen with mumps, raced by, the alms man waving madly, ‘…run my boys run, the world is getting colder…’. Without a minute to spare the first boy picked up the pace and disappeared into the distance, the second boy hot on his heels. ‘…run faster my boys run…’. A sparrow hawk circled overhead, riding the thermals like a stunt pilot, its wings making mincemeat of the sky. ‘…fly faster dear bird, faster faster…’ The alms man turned abruptly to his left, his feet crossing one over the other, his knees giving way to gravity. Falling, his head bounding off the cobble, he lay flat on his back staring at the sky, ‘…run sky run, the moon will surely catch up to you…’. ‘…fuck…!’ screeched a woman in a topcoat, her hair nettled with spruce twigs and vermin, ‘…can’t you see I’m trying to read…?’ Turning a second time, his feet positioned directly in front of him, the alms man glared at the woman, ‘…and you, madam, can’t you see I am trying to avoid catching the death of me...?’ The whittle boy scurried past on his return to where he’d come from, the second boy, his swollen neck wrapped in a damp kerchief, tight on his heels, the two boys larking and singing to beat the band. ‘…see that…?’ said the alms man to the woman, ‘…a whittle boy and a boy with mumps, I told you, the world is a disease and I'm getting colder by the minute…’.