[ WP ] Turn your favourite song into a piece of prose/poetry without mentioning the song .

**I did this for my writer's group the other week, it's more inspired by than literal interpretation - although the song does n't have a clear narritive as such anyway. ** 
 
 Standing at the edge of a town, with the skyline in my eyes, I hear a click behind me. It's a sound I've heard many times before, but not so close. The sound of a gun being cocked. 
 
 I fall down to my knees, my hands above me, my eyes shut waiting for the end. No time to reach for my knife. I feel a shadow pass over my face. He's in front of me. He, or she, or it or they. 
 
 `` You're just a kid.'' He says. I open one eye. Just him. 
 
 `` I'm almost seventeen!'' I say, too indignantly for a girl with a gun in her face. 
 
 The man smiles, his eyes crinkle. `` My apologies. I meant to say young woman.'' He tucks the gun into the waisband of his jeans. It's a nice gun. He does n't think I'm a threat. Good. 
 
 I stand slowly so as not to spook him, and to get a good look at him. He is very old, at least forty five. Old enough to remember before. `` What are you doing here? Where did you come from?'' 
 
 I shrug. `` Dunno. Walked here.'' I gesture behind him at the ruined city. `` Where was it?'' 
 
 `` That used to be called Liverpool. Where did you come from?'' 
 
 I shrug again. `` Someplace else. Then some other place before that.'' 
 
 `` You're lost?'' 
 
 `` I guess so.'' 
 
 `` How long have you been walking?'' 
 
 `` Three months.'' 
 
 `` You knew you were lost but you carried on anyway?'' 
 
 `` When you do n't know where you're going, it does n't matter which road you take.'' 
 
 `` You do n't know where you're going?'' 
 
 I begin to think the man with the gun is a bit simple. 
 
 `` That's what I said, is n't it.'' 
 
 `` Where are your parents?'' 
 
 `` Dead'' 
 
 `` Family?'' 
 
 `` Dead'' 
 
 `` Friends?'' 
 
 `` Never had none. Do you live round here then?'' He looks at me suspiciously. `` I could do with somewhere dry to kip. I can cook you a rabbit?'' I hold up the animal I trapped last night. 
 
 `` That's not a rabbit.'' 
 
 `` No?'' 
 
 `` Rabbits have longer ears, shorter tails. Less tabby. That's a cat.'' 
 
 `` Well I can cook you a cat then. And I'll let you keep the skin.'' 
 
 `` I do n't really like company. I'm a bit of a lone wolf.''. 
 
 `` Great! Me too!'' 
 
 He sighs. `` Okay. One night though.'' 
 
 `` You wo n't know I'm there, except for the delicious smell of roasting cat. I'm Emily.'' 
 
 `` I'm Matt. Come on, then.'' 
 
 Matt's doss is pretty sweet, it still has glass in the windows in all different colours, making pictures. I look at one with a pretty boy with wings. The setting sun makes the picture glow. `` What's that then?'' I ask. 
 
 `` It's an angel. People used to beleive they'd protect them. This used to be a chapel.'' 
 
 `` A what?'' 
 
 `` Like a small church?'' 
 
 `` Small what?'' 
 
 `` Emily, how old were you when your parents died?'' 
 
 `` Dunno. Two? Seven? Something like that?'' 
 
 `` What did you do to survive?'' 
 
 `` What I had to.'' What I have to, I think. 
 
 I look at Matt. The window lights his face up green. I try to only pay attention to the details I need to. I ignore his face and eyes as much as I can. The gun's still in his waistband, but he's taken off his jacket and there's no place else for hidden weapons, except maybe his sock. I'll get a better look when he's not paying attention. A vein throbs in his neck. it'll be quick and painless for him. Just like the others. Most of the others. 
 
 Matt looks away from me. `` I'll get a fire going.'' 
 
 The fire has died down now and the only light is from the full moon outside. It shines through the windows casting pale colours on the stone floor. Matt sleeps on a matress on the floor. He waited until he was sure I was asleep before he dozed off, only he was n't sure at all, because I was just pretending. 
 
 Quietly, with bare feet, I stand up and pull my knife out from under my hoodie. I walk to matt and kneel next to him. One quick stab and it will be over. I'll have to hold his arms down, the gun is still in his waistband and I dared n't try and get to it first. But he does n't look that strong, and he'll be a lot weaker with his jugular cut and a hole in his windpipe. 
 
 I hold the knife a hand's width from his neck. I take a deep breath and grip the handle tight. He murmers in his sleep. I freeze for a moment. 
 `` Come on, Em, now or never'' I think to myself. Gripping the handle of the knife harder I raise it to strike. 
 
 Matt's eyes flicker under his lids. He is dreaming. He twitches in his sleep. `` Please, no, not Jenny. Jenny, my darling.'' A single tear leaks from his sleeping eye. I move the knife away from his throat. I do n't know why. Maybe he'd be happier dead but I ca n't do it. I'll steal his gun in the morning and make a run for it. I watch him sleep, calm now. There is no sound but the steady rise and fall of his breathing. 
 
 I hear a noise outside. I turn to the angel window in time to see it shatter. Through the window leaps one of Them. I've not seen one so close before. It lands sitting on its haunches, roaring at me. Sharp teeth line a mouth that smells of rotting meat. Behind me I hear Matt shout `` Get down, now!'' but there is no time to wait for him to draw his gun. I grip the handle of my knife hard and plunge it into the creature's neck. Its neck is thicker than a man's and it takes all my stregnth to push the knife up to the hilt, but blood bubbles and foams through the wound and I know I've killed it. 
 
 Matt sits, gun in hand, open mouthed. 
 
 `` Come on,'' I say. `` Where there's one there's more. Let's go.'' 

