Read'N'Dash Fiction: How's The Whiskey?

"I'm not even sure you'll remember any of this. Not that it matters in the slightest."

The voice drifted out of nowhere and rang through him like an alarm in the cold of morning. He opened his eyes and stared at the man before him blankly. He tried to get his bearings. Figure out where he was and who this man before him was.

"How's that whiskey?"

Again, the dreamer failed to piece together what was going on. Confusion started to give way to fear. He didn't recognize anything around him. He could barely put the objects in the room together.

"It just gets worse from here, you know? The confusion. The hallucinations." The man speaking took a step forward and a shaft of light illuminated his face. He was dark and his afro was tight on his scalp. The wide mouth set in the large jaw cracked into a slow smile as he adjusted his tie. "Horrid feeling, really - that confusion. The complete lack of base." He shook his head and chuckled. "Adrift on a sea of unfamiliar memories."

The dreamer stood and looked into his hand. The whiskey glass was gone, replaced by a pencil. He dropped it absently.

The voice. "Top of the stairs. First door on the right."  It broke in before the dreamer could utter, "Where's the bathroom."

The dreamer blinked hard and turned - making his way to the dim staircase. The climb seemed surreal. More surreal than the somewhat one sided conversation in the...living room? He couldn't remember now.

He reached the bathroom and closed the door. The space was tight and cramped - the style was Victorian and close. A basin with a mirror ground into his hip on the left and a toilet - obviously picked for its demure size and shape - was on the right. Light poured in from the small, ornate window. Cut and shaped colored glass at the top cast lovely shadows on the pale walls.

The dreamer blinked again and turned the tap on. Dipping his right hand in while clutching at the rim of the basin for support, he splashed his face with water and took momentary pleasure in the cool wetness. Leaning back and gazing into the mirror, he saw that there was no liquid on his face. His hand was bone dry.

A figure caught his gaze below outside the window. It wore a heavy dark coat and jeans. He couldn't tell if it was male or female. He couldn't see its face. It stood between the trees below and stared up with a shadowy face that filled the dreamer with dread and sadness.

Orange leaves littered the ground and a wind sent a ripple through them as the figure turned and walked away slowly. Gone.

"It'll just get worse from here."

The dreamer opened his eyes and stared at the blonde woman before him.

"The doubt. The sadness. You'll fight it," she sad sadly as she clicked her heel against the hard wood flooring of the living room, "but it just gets worse."

The dreamer realized that a glass was against his lips. Cool liquid was pouring down his throat. It burned as it traveled down to his belly.

"I'm not even sure you'll remember any of this. Not that it matters in the slightest."

The voice drifted out of nowhere and rang through him like an alarm in the cold of morning. He shut his eyes and opened them again. He stared at the woman before him blankly. He tried to get his bearings. Figure out where he was and who this woman was before him.

"How's that whiskey?" She smiled sadly.

Read'N'Dash Fiction:Day

He sipped his whiskey and listed to the sound of the party outside. A neighbor and a birthday party with parents and children laughing and playing. He stood and pulled the curtain back slightly and stole a glance at the beautiful day outside. It was perfect. Beautiful, warm and blue. He sat back down and finished the whiskey in his glass. He had no desire to go out there. Not today.

He sighed and leaned back in his chair. She’d be calling any minute now. He’d fucked his day away. His precious day home. His one day of rest this weekend. Tomorrow’s plate was full, then the next day was another round of work fun. This was his day and he couldn’t even remember what the fuck he had done with it.

A shave and shower, he remembered that clearly. He'd managed to do something during the day. That and a walk that consisted of a few blocks before he returned home to avoid the heat and people. He had not even wanted to visit his usual haunts – too far and too many people between. He was supposed to be building models, watching movies and writing, but all efforts to motivate himself towards the activities failed just like the walk had.

A glance at the clock. Five-thirty.

Shit.

The party raged on next door. Children screamed and laughed as parents did whatever parents did at these occasions.

There was still time to do something. But now there was the pressure of picking the right thing.

Writing? Was he even in the mood?

The models that sat in his closet were an option. He knew he had five there to pick from, but he didn’t have the desire to do that either.

Again, shit.

He didn’t even have any friends he felt like talking to at the moment. Normal people would call friends to go shopping or hang out doing nothing with. He couldn't even manage that even though he knew that, if he simply picked up the phone, he'd be having fun with friends in minutes.

He didn’t feel like doing anything.

Nothing at all.

He stood up and stared out the window. He brought the glass to his lips and sipped at the amber liquid absently. He wasn't even sure if he wanted to drink, honestly, but it was the easiest thing to do at the moment.

That's when he spotted the little girl staring at him from over the fence. Her almond eyes were locked on his. Her mouth was a straight line. Blank and simple in it's absence of emotion.

“Hey kid. Not polite to stare,” he muttered as he sipped again.

She kept staring.

“Ok, creepy. Go back to th party.” He chuckled to himself. “Run along.”

Without changing the look she wore, she lifted her hand and waved slowly, then glanced back at the party before returning her blank mask of a face to him.

He waved back, but wasn't sure why.

With that, she dropped back off whatever she stood on to peer over the fence and was gone.

He sipped and felt like the day wasn't a total loss. He had made a new friend, after all.

From the notebook of Susan Cooper: Things I Didn't Say Today

From the notebook of Susan Cooper: Things I Didn't Say Today Page 247 March 1st, 2009 

 

“I don't really give a shit what color you like, actually.” 

 "Do I look like your mother? Don't even answer that. Go away." 

 “Fuck you.” 

 “I'd help you if I didn't have smart people to assist first. People I like more than you. People that respect the work I do. You know – cool people.” 

 “If she does that again, I swear, I will do everything in my power to see that she's fired by Friday.” 

 “Come on – figure it the fuck out. It's not rocket science. This is the basic shit that I learned...what? Like 13 years ago right out of the God damned chute, you hack. How much are they paying you?” 

 “Fuck you.” 

 “Am I the only one with a brain around here?” 

 “Seriously – you couldn't figure this out by yourself? How do you get dressed in the morning?” 

 “You're an idiot.” 

 “I hate you. No, really. I really, really hate you.” 

 “I can hear you fine. I'm just ignoring you.” 

 "You'd make an adorable whore. Nice pants." 

 “Go to hell.” 

 “Bite me.” 

 “Blah blah blah.” 

 “I want to punch you in the neck SO bad right now.”

S.C.

Read'N'Dash Fiction: Windows

She stands in front of the window with the light reflecting off of her creamy skin and her robe barely hanging on. He's sure people can see her, but says nothing for fear of her chastising him again for telling her what she already knows. Her accent is strictly New York all the way and he loves hearing her speak, even if it means that he's hearing it stomping at him and pointing out his faults.

She turns and catches him staring. “Your neighbor's a perv,” she mutters blankly. Her hair catches the light and glimmers for a minute before going dark again.

He finds it funny seeing that she's the one standing in front of the window – the fishbowl now that the sun has fallen – with her breasts bared and nether regions barely covered. He grins and rolls over on his elbo. The bed creaks under his weight.

A bus roars past. It's wheels hiss as they cut through the rain soaked streets.

“Seems like you're pretty pervy too, the things you were doing.” She smiles her awkward little smile at him and seems to glide to the bedside. “I'll walk funny for days.”

“Was it worth it?” He stares blankly.

“Guess so.” She sits on the edge of the bed and covers herself with his robe, pulling it over her shoulders and hiding her supple breasts away from him again. “I'm not sure why you let me in your house after the last time.”

“I let you in my house BECAUSE of the last time.” He chuckles and slides his hand over her thigh and broad hips. She's voluptuous and womanly and delicious.

The heater on the wall growls to life and pumps more heat into the room. It's unaware that the weak and uncaring window frames will just let all it's hard work slip away into the cold night air rendering it's efforts futile.

“Sorry I broke your window.” She drags her hand over her hair, then covers his hand with hers and removes it when he tries to explore a bit too far. “Easy, Cowboy.”

“Shy now?”

“Figuring you out.”

“You won't be able to. I'm complicated.”

“Is that what you are?” Her voice is cold and uncaring, lacking the playful softness of a joke.

The lights of the city pour through the window and cast harsh shadows on the walls of his room.