The Intruder

The diffused pale light from the lamp post illuminating the sullen street at 12:37 a.m. The leaking roof of dark sobbing clouds casting a shadow, superiority leaking from their ripped seams. The freefall of fat water droplets disturbing the silence. But its music to the ears, breaking the thin ice of awkward silence. The humans dwelling inside their shelters, the heartbroken probably sleep deprived and painting a regret on their empty canvases, mostly asleep painting a dream instead.
A little flower pot suffocating from the water penetrating beyond its limit to be drowned. Its buds already aborted and future taken away. Ripples dancing on the transparent sheets of puddles, gracefully cutting through the liquid's curves and edges. A mustang parked dangerously on the right side, missing the letterbox by only a few inches. Its insides missing out on the drama outside. The skin of dirt embracing demise with the calculated moves of waterslides on windshield and elsewhere. Earth oozing out secrets.
A shadow lurking in the dark and emerging as a figure.
Splash
The intruder disturbs the rhythm. Feeble footsteps cautiously progressing nearer and growing louder as the figure comes into sight. Miserably failing to blend in or go unnoticed. His hoodie concealing most of his face. A sharp pocketknife bathed in blood clenched tightly in his left hand, a leather wallet gripped in his right. His skin and cloth betraying him, screaming the accelerated beating of an unholy heart against his weak ribcage. His head shoots up and his reddened eyes reveal the aftermath of his sin, no regret or mercy spotted in the deepest pit of his heart.
A pair of eyes darts around. No audience. Good.
Hooded eyes resting under a bushy arc of eyebrows, silver winking on his lip's corner complementing the 'hope' tattoo adorning his neckline, his blue orbs glittering like fireworks. His beard smeared neatly around his jagged jaws. A few water droplets mapping a jigsaw on his stiff beard.
Drop
Attention diverted in the direction of the sound. An empty can uncomfortably balance on the side of a window has successfully drawn attention. Adrenaline rushes through his veins and he loses grip on the wallet which hits the earth vulgarly. The form bends and casually dives the blood dripping knife in a puddle too insignificant to be noticed. The contents of the wallet are emptied now. Bills, dollar bills withdrawn with the most care. Not a single card worth keeping. One last look at the wallet exposes a 3 by 3 photograph. A man's firm hands beautifully occupied in holding the broad shoulders of a blonde woman. Two little girls chuckling on either side. Perfect family no more even. The intruder has lost interest. The picture and the cards are torn apart by a pair of calm hands and inserted into the grills of a gutter. Gone. Destroyed. Safe. The bunch of dollar bills stuffed into his pocket. The nightcrawler is on his feet now, searching for a place to dump what remains proof of his deeds. The nocturnal all witnesses, but all wordless.