My Words, My World
First drafts – A few pages in the large wilderness of the world of writing
Archive for the tag “dark”
99-word story: The Stranger – episode 14
The lights of the all-night petrol station flashed by.
Her car was no longer following. He thought she’d stopped for gas.
The cops drove on.
His days of collecting for The Mob were over. So were hers. And now she wanted his cut.
He parked outside his apartment, raced in and took the envelope. And the ammunition.
Back outside, he scanned the street. Nothing. Relieved, he slid into the driver’s seat, key in hand. Cold steel touched the back of his head.
The woman’s voice was low.
‘Just take it slowly. Give me the gun, the envelope. And drive.’
If you haven’t read the previous episodes, you can find them here:
99-word fiction: The Stranger – part VII
The Stranger took shelter in his car, and listened to the rain pound the roof; he could barely hear himself think. For now, the way out was blocked.
She wouldn’t be able to stay there all night, someone had to leave. His only chance was to switch cars.
Out in the street the cops rolled by and he slid lower in his seat. She was bad — the cops were worse. One meant death, and liberation; the other a lifetime behind bars.
I just need to get that money, he thought, just as light spilled from the open bar door.
If you haven’t read the previous stories, you can find them here:
99-word fiction: The Stranger – part VI
99-word fiction: The stranger – part V
99-word fiction: The stranger – part IV | My Words, My World
99-word fiction: The stranger – part III | My Words, My World
99-word fiction: The stranger – part II | My Words, My World
99-word fiction: The stranger – part V
With one last look at the barman, the Stranger nodded and opened the door. His eyes adjusted. He scanned the car park — just darkness. He knew she hadn’t left. He knew she was waiting for him, out there.
She had his money and a gun. He had a hire car from a company that had all his details. Bad odds. Bad night. His sweat mixed with rain.
In her car, the woman watched, waiting to see which car he took, her telephone in hand. They had half already. They could do without the rest. They could do without him.
If you haven’t read the previous stories, you can find them here:
99-word fiction: The stranger – part IV | My Words, My World
99-word fiction: The stranger – part III | My Words, My World
99-word fiction: The stranger – part II | My Words, My World
Two till six
Watching the twos, threes and fours
of the morning clock.
The sixty second minutes, as they
count the hours off.
Sleep eludes me,
sleep deludes me.
Five is here,
in its cold, dark hour,
Five now passing into six
and still I sit,
unsleeping.
My insomnia wakes me,
my insomnia hates me.
Dawn queen
Mind muddled, befuddled
hours awake,
hours reading,
hours doing everything but sleeping
crawling on my knees
to the dawn queen.
Lying there in the dark
looking at every darkened shape
of every angle of every wall
and feel every stubbed toe
on every piece of furniture
lying there in the dark;
like me.
Alarm clock; you are redundant,
again. As ever.
Your services are limited
except when you tell me
how long I’ve been lying there awake.
As I crawl on my knees
to the dawn queen.
The dark kitchen
Another tip of the hat to Morgen Bailey and this time her poetry prompts. “the dark kitchen” immediately took my fancy and this time I had it down in less than a third of the allotted time. Once again, thanks for that Morgen.
The Dark Kitchen
The dark kitchen
The darker drawers
The still darker knives,
Each telling their story
The darkened oven
Black from the roasts
The un-cleaned fat
That spat; and sizzled.
The dark old woman
Dressed all in black
Black widow in waiting
Black venom giving
The death-grey husband
Now ever in the dark
Her dark kitchen her web
Her poison pernicious
The dark pantry
Away from the light
Locked in tight
Opened only at night
When all is black
This cold dark night
Firelight, flame dance
shadow tango, flicker bright
Light, blaze and burn away
the cold, dark winter night
The cold black winter night
of frost, snow and ice
of chilled bones gently warmed,
reading by the firelight
Reading by the firelight
Shadow tango, pages white
Let your warmth envelope me
and burn away this cold, dark night
Cold and Dark
January;
gloved and hatted
walk.
Frosted breath,
then, finally
the warmth.
Then cold
that condences
on glass,
rivulets running.
The dark:
getting darker, and
crowned
by white.
The cold;
to the touch,
to the senses.
How I enjoy
a pint of Guinness
Whereabouts
-
-
My Words, My World 