By Fionntán Macdonald
The black cab rests in the driveway, still as a grave.
It’s quiet now, cold. Colour faded. Pistons still. It never roared, but once it purred.
It’s silent now. It carried them through the city, through the fire. Through the hail of bottles, bricks, bullets, bombs, and the rain.
It’s still now, the city. The black cab rests.
The black-clad figures walk from the house. The box rests on their backs. They carry him to a hearse the same colour as the cab he used to make purr. He doesn’t drive; he rides now.
The last ride he will take.
Wow. Quite evocative. Beautiful and fittingly spare.
Thank you so much for commenting! I’m so glad the piece made an impression on you
Hello Fionntán,
Perfectly crafted; every word has a role and conveys mood and substance.
Thank you so much! This piece is quite personal to me and I agonised over each syllable so it’s wonderful to know it was worthwhile.
So much conveyed with so few words. Very nicely done.
Thank you for saying so, I love micropoetry and microfiction and hope to write much more!
Poignant! I loved the alliteration.
Thank you so much for your engagement! I’m so glad you enjoyed it
Beautiful!
Thank you!
I actually found this really sad..
A super evocative piece.
I’m happy to have inspired an emotion in someone with my writing,
even sadness. Thank you so much for commenting!