The Lamp Post - Part 1

It wasn’t a good locality. Good as in well lit, busy with a certain bonhomie as many other streets are. This was a dimly lit alley that had overflowing trash cans, the kind of locality where trash bins overflow fast and don't get cleaned quickly enough. Stray cats scavenging for food had managed to topple the can and there was garbage strewn on the road. A street light flickered at the far end of the alley. Almost reluctant to throw light steadily. Like staccato bursts. No predictability, just an unsteady flicker. Some wire had a loose connection. Or the bulb was at the end of its life on the lamppost. Wonder the multitude of things the flickering bulb would have seen in its lifetime. No one bothered for such things. What was the life of a lightbulb. Yet, it was there and doing somethings for years maybe. Everyday occurrences unfolding under its flickering light. Or maybe it was a bright shining light always and had just gone weak recently. Anyways on that night, its yellow flicker just added to the pall of gloom on that alley. Almost as if it was going to die any moment and was stuttering in its last leg of life. Reluctant to let go but unable to hold up strong either.  

A man in a black hoodie slipped out of a building into the dimly lit alley. It was difficult to determine the colour, but it looked like black. His trousers and shoes also seemed black. His face wasn’t visible, he looked almost black! Maybe it was the shadow or the hoodie covering it or maybe he was black! He walked with deliberate fast steps, making very little noise. He was athletic, you could make out from his profile and the energy in his step. That needed strong legs. He sure seemed to have a purpose. A man sure of what he wanted to do next and walking with purpose towards it. Confident steps, covering ground fast, barely any noise from the sole hitting the ground. A practiced walk. Stealth. That was the word. The man moved like a cat in motion, fluid, strong, surefooted, swift, noiseless, and as if he is going to pounce any moment. A slow drizzle started. The man pulled his hoodie tight. The alley met a wider road in about hundred yards from the lamppost. The man was getting closer to the wider road. A car started. A muffled sort of sound. Not the sound of a tired old car. This was a clean sound, refined as would a new engine sound. Just a starting noise and then a stead whine. The car did not sound like it was moving but it seemed very near. It could be right near the corner. The car seemed to be waiting. Then it started moving, one could hear the slow roll of rubber on an uneven street. Then it came out from of the wide road, a black car with its lights off. One just saw the outline of the car from the reflection a distant light threw on it. A person sat at the wheel, it was difficult to make out details. Maybe it was a man or even a woman.

The man in the hoodie lurched towards the car, pulled the rear door open and got in and shut the door in one fluid motion.  The car sped away leaving a faint trail on the tarmac which the rain immediately washed away. The alley and the wide road was once again deserted. Slow drizzle continued to wet everything. The flickering lamppost was the only witness to what transpired in the alley that dark wet night. A lone flickering lamp. What had it seen that night? As if on cue at this precise moment, the light went out. It had breathed its last! Immediately throwing a cold pall of darkness across the whole area. It went silent. Even in its dim flickering life, it had lit up the surroundings. In its death, it seemed like the whole place was dead. Died along with the light. Pitch darkness. Silent rain. What was the story of the hooded man? What had happened in the dimly lit alley that only the now dead lamp witnessed? What was it?!