A piece of creative non-fiction I created by wandering around aimlessly for ten minutes, experiencing the autumnal city-scape around me, then writing about what I noticed and thought about at the time.
A gush of cool wind threads itself through my hair and pushes itself between the buildings on either side of the street. The whistle crescendos to a roar that rouses the crisp, burnt orange leaves from the gutters and spins them into a dance. When I was younger, I used to pretend that I had superpowers that let me control the way they twisted into little tornados. I would stare hard in their direction, narrowing my eyes and stretching my hand out towards them, like some sort of sorcerer.
The roar of the wind quietens down to the soft rumbling hum of the traffic. A siren, perhaps from an ambulance, can be heard in the distance, like a warning of some terrible tragedy.
I look up to the cool blue sky in the gaps between the buildings, inhaling the fresh, autumnal air that’s tinged with the taste of frost, wondering what the tragedy could be. Were they rushing a sick, elderly man into hospital after a slip on the pavement this morning? Or was it a young person that had been involved with some sort of bloody accident? I don’t know. I never will know. But I wish them luck, whoever they may be, as the blaring siren fades away into the bustle of the city.