dark | side | thursday | fourteen
by andy townend
Do you need, desire or crave a new challenge? Are you open to sharing your dark side? Then read on.
Do you have a dark side?
Or, think you may have one. Or indeed worry that you might have one. Or, for that matter, worry that you don’t and would like one? If so, join me here each week for dark | side | thursday.
Over a period of 52 weeks, I am writing a story. A dark story that will unfold as the weeks pass. Each Thursday, at 13:00 UTC, I will post a new chapter. Each chapter will be exactly 500 words long, and will be accompanied by a photograph. You can catch up on the story so far by clicking here on dark | side | thursday
Share your dark side?
I invite you to join me either by writing your own dark story, week by week, or, if that is too much, by dropping by, now and then, perhaps when the mood suits you or, perhaps, when it doesn’t, and by sharing a photograph, poem or a suitably dark piece of prose. To cross over to dark | side | thursday create your post, tag it dark side thursday and link to it by clicking on the dark | side | thursday badge below, where you can also find all the contributions so far. Or you can simply share your link in the comments section of my weekly post. And, should the mood take you, you can add the badge to your post…….
The office building was a block of white brick and glass. A row of concrete pillars separates the parking lot. Jimmie sits perched on one. His grey and white flannel hung loose over a wife beater tee. His jet black hair slightly spiked. A cigarette fills the air around him. He looks like a distorted view of a king in his court.
“Jules, I’m here. This is your shot to back out.” The phone in his hand is reaching voicemail.
Jimmie drops a plastic bottle. The wind tumbles it toward a row of cars. He gets up a leisurely follows the stray. The wind pushed in toward a silver compact about five deep on the street side. Just catching it as it goes between two cars. A flash of metal no-one sees. The top of a blade finds a rubber brake line. A single drop bleeds.
A smiling man throws the entry bottle in the trash can. Then vanishes.
Emerging from the same building comes Celeste. Her brown hair drawn back, purse and bag on right side, cell phone in left hand. She is headed for the silver car.
“Oooh, he never answers! Yes, I know leave message. … hey it’s me. I’m doing to look at something. Call me! Really call me!” Her voice tell herself, it ain’t happening anyway.
She opens the car and throws the bags on the passenger seat. Hoping in the driver’s seat, she is off. She had a hot buy on a collection at an estate. A quick couple of rights and she is on highway.
Her phone rings as she merges. “Julian, you have the worst timing! I’m getting on highway! Hang on, I’m putting it on speaker. Oh shit! ! The brakes. ..” a loud sound of twisting metal. An impact with glass shattering. Then dead quiet.
“Hello. Hello?! Are you there? Hey answer me!” Julian pleads. There’s no response.
Julian stares at his phone. The reality of the moment hits home. He had a missed call. He didn’t want to take it. He had a change of heart but it didn’t matter now.
He pauses and calls 911. His mind reels. He was part of this. They will know. They will find out. But he has to call.
“What’s your emergency?”
“There’s been accident on highway 71. By Snow exit.”
“Thank you sir. We know. Are you involved!”
Click. The call drops.
Julian is paralyzed. His little house closes on on him. What has he done?
There’s more. .. kind if a throwback Thursday