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Tuesday, 22 December 2015

Jozelle And The MetroBus (Fiction)



(The following is the beginning of a fictional story that I plan to add to in the future. I have decided to share some of what I’ve written. It is a work in progress, stay tuned to my website/blog for more!)

 
   He had a face like a crop circle, so symmetrical you would question whether it was God made, man made or if aliens were playing a joke. I averted eye contact as if his eyes were searchlights and I was hiding from a slave-master. I could hear the bloodhounds circling near by, disturbing the other women like birds, taking to the trees all around in curiosity, fear, wonder and astonishment.

Chirping rung in my ears like the dinner bell, that called me when starvation was consuming my last will. The hurricane of lust and hunger was so strong as I barely stood at its edge... he called my name. He called my name and it all fell, the hounds, the birds, the trees, the wind, the sky. The sky fell and I looked into the eyes of a beast so fierce that HE was the eye of a hurricane. "Forgive me Satan." I said . "I'll keep you as a friend but I won't do your favors.”

But Satan didn’t hear me. I’m not sure that he ever was listening when I went about my way, in between daydreams and suspicious temptations. I’d be lucky if anyone listened. The way I’d gone about everything in the night time, executed viciously any bit of good attempted in the day.
What kind of life is it anyway to avoid satisfaction? And then I wondered, did he utter my name? or did I imagine that because it was what I wanted to hear?

“What?” The man answered my previous statement as if he actually had not heard me. The look in his eyes no longer a searchlight, we were alone on the far side of the bar and his crop circle face was illuminated, by soft candles on the table nearby.
“You got a cigarette?” I asked noticing the nicotine stains on his fingers.
“How about you tell me your name? and what a pretty lady like yourself is doing sitting alone?”
“That’s more information than I’m willing to give for a cancer stick. I quit 2 weeks ago anyways, I’ll go without.”

I gathered my purse and jacket, signaled the bar tender to pay my tab and downed the third double whiskey on the rocks that I’d just ordered.

Leaving the bar alone hadn’t been my plan but some peoples cliches are enough to flip the chess board out of frustration. All he had to say was anything different.
All he had to do, was not be another unoriginal prick. I’ll leave him for the birds, there's plenty to choose from. All chirping in their flocks…

“Hey! Excuse me! Miss!? You left your phone on the bar!” The man came running behind me in the parking lot. This guy is the plague.
“How did you get my phone!?” I snapped. “You, you left it, on the bar!”
“You expect me to believe that? I’m not that careless.” I said.
“It, it was on the bar… Look, it’s your phone. Just take it. I’ll leave you alone. You obviously don’t like me, I get it!”
I looked at the phone. It was a touch screen similar to mine but had a beat up, black, rubber case around it and scratches across the glass.

My next to perfect recall was hazy as the last 2 shots set in. I re-winded to the moment I paid my tab at the bar and saw no phone anywhere near. My memory flickered as if I was in the moment reliving it, just as the candles flickered on the table nearby. I looked at the candles, their flame was yellow and orange but as they flickered, a blue and purple hue overcame them. I turned to the man slowly...

“Now that I have your attention, I have a favor to ask.”
I looked around confused. I could have sworn I was in the dark parking lot outside holding a cell phone that wasn’t mine.
“Do your hair real nice tomorrow for work. I’ll see you when you punch out.”

He got up and walked out.    


The next Morning:

He had one of those days where all the dishes were used and he couldn't find a spoon so he got a greasy burger for $1.99. You could see it on his torn t-shirt with the armpit stains that he didn't care anymore. No one helped him notice he let himself go because he never went anywhere fancy enough.

The day he parked outside waiting for a fare named "Jozelle" though, everything sputtered into abnormality and it did so with the swiftness of a hurtling baseball pitched at him from the stratosphere. If it were any other day she would have walked the 4 blocks in her high heel shoes and uncomfortable knee high stockings, but today it rained and she had spent an hour on her hair. Click click click click, scuff click, scuff "AHHhh!!!" Clunk, Splash!!! He saw her head bob up and down then disappear as she wiped out into a puddle on the sidewalk.

He didn't move right away. He let out a sigh of complaint into the humid air, then slowly got out of the cab to help her. By the time he came around to the passengers side she was standing up again, holding her black strapped, broken high heel in one hand and her glittery gold purse under her arm, as she meticulously tried to figure out if it was fixable.

"Jozelle?" He said awkwardly. She darted her eyes at him as if he had pushed her then abruptly opened the back door of his cab and plunked herself down avoiding eye contact at all cost. He went around the cab to the drivers side as his long silver grey hair collected water like a thirsty sponge.

He started up the car and waited for her to give directions, then noticed she was sobbing into both perfectly manicured hands like a 3 year old after someone had taken their lollipop. He rubbed his face in awkward impatience...

If he hadn't stopped for that greasy burger he would never have to put up with this Sh!t, he thought... (I coulda been on another run if I just found that spoon but nooo, I get a broad like this...). It was at that moment he heard a loud crashing and crunching sound of metal and the last thing before blacking out that he heard or saw was Jozelle screaming and a metro bus flying off the road..


To Be Continued:

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