dark and twinkling

November 2nd, 2009

After leaving the insane asylum, Nathan needed coffee.

He drove across town, the ghosts of what he’d seen haunting him, cloying and disturbing. He shivered and cranked the heater, and wished the sun wasn’t setting so fast. The echos of tormented screams bounded across his mind, but far worse were the whispers.

Those tiny little voices, hidden in the cracks of his memory.

The eyes of that one girl, so dark, twinkling (mischief? madness?) in spite of everything.

The crooked smile she offered him.

The way she spoke his name… as though… she knew him.

Wait… how had she known his name?

He shook his head, parking in the café lot. He threw open his door and took several deep breaths of the cold, crisp air. Shivering, he ducked into the café and went to the barista. “Coffee, black,” he ordered.

“Yes, Nathan,” she said, and met his gaze with eerily familiar dark eyes.

One Response to “dark and twinkling”

  1. Thom says:

    Man, he just can’t get a break, can he?

    Continuous flow from intro to revelation, and reconnecting back with the first part, with no definite beginning leading to a startling and still mysterious future.

    Afterwards, it seems like I should have saw it coming, yet there really wasn’t any reason to be wary. The connection is more like smoothed icing on cake instead of a knotted string, as the events flow from thoughts on his mind to not into the next event but instead with the current event.

    I just don’t let things get to me so readily. Nonetheless, my unquiverable spine wobbled the way the final stage of stacked Jenga planks shudders when a heavy sigh is prematurely released too close. My spine emitted a regret for not collapsing into a pile of close-fitting rubble if just to hug itself more thoroughly for assuredness than it could ever receive by regaining its composure for dignity’s sake. Somehow, I don’t think it was just the café’s chilled air… Uhm, I mean the café I’m in, not his.

    Wait a moment, the barista did have dark eyes… But I didn’t come from an insane asylum this morning, unless Wonko the Sane was right about the world itself being an asylum. Hmm… no, no worries needed by me, I’m pretty certain.

    Surely this guy wants to head back to the (his) asylum? The coffee can’t be that important at this moment, can it? Yet, does he have any hope of moving fast enough? Does he dare turn his back instead of playing out this obviously inevitable confrontation?