What Do You Know Better Than your Own Secrets
Hello Everybody!
I know it's been a long time since a post, BUT with knee surgery, and working on finishing "The Lion Communique" a book of short stories (will be ready to send to publishers March 1!) and you know the rest of what happened in 2020!
Here's one of the stories I finished, "Judgement Night". I know I may have posted this before but this is the totally finished version, I can't do anything else with it except move around some words and ideas. I hope you enjoy!
Judgement Night
“What do you know better than your own secrets.” Raymond Carver
Lurid, strobing images flickered in his mind illuminated by lightning flashes crashing off each other, in and out of focus in the swirl and fog of a fevered dream. Wet darkness, a young woman’s face washed out in the rain, a bus placard that says: Nashville, men’s ruddy faces, cruel masks of people, distorted, laughing, a whiskey bottle, a disembodied voice that echoes the words “guilty! I condemn you,” a bus sitting on a darkened road its lights stretching out into the night. It was steeped in in sepia and chiaroscuro, the color of memory. A scratching sound at the edge of consciousness. It doesn’t seem human, a chittering sound, that sounds far away but growing louder. As it gets closer the sound becomes coherent until he recognizes it as a voice speaking to him.
(To read the whole story please follow the link to Medium Judgement Night)
I know it's been a long time since a post, BUT with knee surgery, and working on finishing "The Lion Communique" a book of short stories (will be ready to send to publishers March 1!) and you know the rest of what happened in 2020!
Here's one of the stories I finished, "Judgement Night". I know I may have posted this before but this is the totally finished version, I can't do anything else with it except move around some words and ideas. I hope you enjoy!
Judgement Night
“What do you know better than your own secrets.” Raymond Carver
Lurid, strobing images flickered in his mind illuminated by lightning flashes crashing off each other, in and out of focus in the swirl and fog of a fevered dream. Wet darkness, a young woman’s face washed out in the rain, a bus placard that says: Nashville, men’s ruddy faces, cruel masks of people, distorted, laughing, a whiskey bottle, a disembodied voice that echoes the words “guilty! I condemn you,” a bus sitting on a darkened road its lights stretching out into the night. It was steeped in in sepia and chiaroscuro, the color of memory. A scratching sound at the edge of consciousness. It doesn’t seem human, a chittering sound, that sounds far away but growing louder. As it gets closer the sound becomes coherent until he recognizes it as a voice speaking to him.
(To read the whole story please follow the link to Medium Judgement Night)
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