Collaborative short storyFollow

It's funny how you remember smells and the sents of the day before something traumatic occurs. Evenmore so than the visual horrors of that morning. Looking back in hindsight, all the warning signs were there. But on that most fateful day, it was far, far too late to matter.

P.S. Your OP reminds me of McCartney's verse in A Day in the Life.




Edited, Apr 11th 2008 11:12am by trickybeck

I always get an erection when I'm on the Tube. Sometimes, on the buses too. Perhaps it's the rapid, repetitive motion underneath my buttcheeks, or maybe the friction slowly awakening my ******* to morning physical senses. It's not so bad on the week-end, when I wear baggy pants, but it can be slightly akward during weekdays when I'm dressed like penguin at a funeral. Chelsea's starting eleven. My secondary school maths teacher with the tiny eye and the bald head. The old lady sitting direct opposite me. Actually no, she might've been quite cure when she was younger.

The jostling of the train jogs me back to reality as I arrive at my stop. Crowding out the doors as I make my way onto the platform, the purpose of my day comes back to me. I step quickly up the stairs and into the sunlight. The damp warmth bringing the smells of the bustling city to nose. The noise helps to renew my vigor as I head on my way.

I take out my wallet and examine the picture of the man in the suit. Chambers. Micheal Chambers, looking proud and dignified wearing a Savile Row pinstripe, frowning purposefully. In the picture of him ******* my wife, he's not as dignified. Maybe clothes really do make the man. I look up and luck has blessed me with the vision of him a few yards away wearing what looks to be the suit, he's probably one of those men who has a closet full, and my upbringing in Manchester takes over my senses.

"Oy, Chambers!"

He looks up at me and smiles. He's either not recognized me or has mistaken me for a man who won't plunge nine inches of steel into the soft flesh beneath his chin and then light a smoke and wait for the police.

Delicately and in slow motion, I slip the knife back into my pocket. Eyes transfixed at the blood, leaking from his corpse, trickling between the paving stones, and streaming towards my trainers.

All I can hear is the silence, oppressing, interrupted only by the intermittent heartbeats thumping through my body. I finally managed to drag my eyes away from the blood, and straight onto the stares of the immobile passers-by. So that's how you grind Covent Garden to a halt in broad daylight. Easier than I thought.

I readjust the hoodie over my baseball cap, pull the peak down, and start heading south down Floral Street.

Who changed the tense on us? Grumble..

I must have been walking for over an hour, my mind full of half-remembered faces and conflicting thoughts. Chambers deserved what he got, but why today? I realise I've ignored any number of opportunities to take him out discreetly; why there? Why take the risk?

With half a mind on where I'm going, I turn a corner and see the BMW parked at an angle outside a derelict looking workshop. Although it looks familiar; the tinted windows and the unusual metallic pain, I'm not sure why. It looks empty, but as I approach the driver's side window I notice a motionless figure slumped over the steering wheel.

The end of their elaborate cocoon around me. The end of being a doormat. The end of everything my timidness and morality had turned my life into.

Did the BMW belong to Susan's colleague, or mine? Or some acquaintance of Chambers? One of the three. Trying to piece togethor relationships and connections, my emotions and the enormity of what had passed became too much. I shied away from those thoughts and brought myself back into the present.

Yesterdays events, her face, locked me back into reality after the hours of oblivion from Covent Garden to this place.

I reached the window. Oh. Oh @#%^.













Edited, Apr 11th 2008 11:15pm by Youshutup

fuck, man.

The aroma, by this time, had all but taken over all of my senses. I had to find an escape, something to take this sight from my mind, this stench from my nostrils. Where does one go after witnessing such a travesty?

So I walk into Kitty's, tits flopping to the left and to the right. My favorite booth, as always, is empty, waiting for me to sit. I order my usual, gin and tonic, straight up, and try to focus on the fun being had in front of me. Then she walks up.

"There's no smoking in this establishment sir."

I put it out.

"Good. Great."

She smiles. I feel better. When she's smiling she looks like anyone, she looks like Susan even, but that stern voice reminds me of my mother. I sit back and enjoy the show. The haze of alcohol helps me focus on her curves and such, and I feel that I'm pulling myself togethor and planning ahead as I sit there, soft eyes and peaceful face.

******* wombats.

At precisely the moment that thought ran through my head, IT began. First it was just one wombat, a small one that seemed to fall out of the sky and land at my feet. As I was dazedly staring at the thing trying to decide if it was real, my peripheral vision became alive with movement. There were wombats EVERYWHERE, emerging from cracks in the landscape, morphing out of lifeless piles of rags in the corner, dropping off buildings, shooting out of soda machines.

Clearly I had slipped over the edge of rationality...or had I?

I ran, and kept running, I ran like Forrest Gump without leg braces. The landscape began to change. The concrete of the city streets and sidewalks started to give way to dirt paths. The buildings towering over the tunnel-like passageway of boulevards were gradually becoming rock structures and then simply rock walls. The wombats too, were becoming just a part of the landscape. I passed a lone wombat grazing on a hotdog wrapper. Ahead and to my right a family of wombats were enjoying a dip in a puddle. Wombat poo-piles were sparsely spread now so stepping in them was any easy avoidance. What was moments ago raining wombats was now simply rain.

The lights that were showing me my way, were no longer head lights and street lights but were now campfires, streaks of lightning and giant fireflies (or were they wombats with taillights??). WTF?

I slowed my pace to a walk. It dawned on me that I could hear again. And with that, I realized that since the first Wombat landed at my feet all sound had been drowned out, no not drowned out, replaced, replaced by only the whine of the wombat.

I continued walking as I pondered my complete loss of sanity. Ahead of me was an orange hued light on the side of a cliff face. I was drawn to it...yes, like a moth. I approached and realized it was a cave. I entered slowly letting my eyes adjust to my most recent surreal surroundings.

There she was sitting in front of, what was clearly, a computer monitor. It was from this monitor that the orange light was emminating.

With her back still to me I heard her speak.

"Come in", she said, "I'll give you shelter from the storm"



eidt: it's time for a sultry, sweaty, silkily-seductive sex scene......

Edited, Apr 16th 2008 4:15pm by Elinda