I had an active imagination when I was younger – I dreamed up elaborate histories for the fictional worlds that inhabited the landscapes around my childhood home. This is sort of a “description” of the world I’d imagined around my home, but it’s also partly a story of a single day – or maybe a single year.
I ran across this the other day – an old story fragment I had written long ago. The night was dark and still, but they could still see the figures dancing. Like shadows, they seemed to melt into the very darkness that created them. Yet still there was no sound, and that perhaps was the… Continue reading The Night was Dark and Still
Once he got behind the steering wheel, and the music began to play, everything was different. His mind was clear… focused. His hand moved to the stick. His other hand gripped the wheel. The engine revved. He was the car. But like all good things, it had to end.
As the heat crept up his back and into his body, he gradually became aware of the fact that he was eating pepperoni from a plastic package. He heard the crumpling sound of the plastic as his hand, without direction, picked the pieces up and moved them into his mouth.