Tag Archives: short story

Country Girl: Chapters 1+2

7 Feb

I started writing this short story over three years ago, but poems and song lyrics took over and I completely forgot about it. So I decided to go back and try to finish it. Here’s the first two chapters.

 

Chapter One

I’ll never forget the day I met my country girl.

I arrived in Nashville, Tennessee two days ago.  The first night I spent in my hotel, The Doubletree, just off Jefferson Street on 4th Avenue North.  It had been a long flight from Ontario and an even longer one from London the day before, so I decided that a night in front of the TV with the mini bar would suffice, rather than hitting the bars.

Last night though, I decided to check out the local bars and taverns – that’s when I saw her.

It was at a place called Johnny’s, a little hillbilly joint a few blocks down from my hotel on Broadway, next to Hard Rock Café.  Everybody there seemed to be dressed in boots, jeans, checkered shirts, leather or suede jackets and Stetson hats.  I walked over to the bar.

‘Howdy son,’ the bar tender greeted me with a bright smile.  ‘What’ll it be?’

‘Um, gin and tonic, thanks.’

‘You ain’t from round here, huh?’

‘Nope, just got here.’

‘You’re English, right?’  The bar tender asked, setting down my drink.

‘Yep.  Arrived in Canada last week to visit some friends, then arrived here two days ago,’ I answered, handing him a ten dollar bill.

‘And whatcha up to all the way down here?’

‘Looking for inspiration – I’m a writer.’

‘Oh yeah?  What kinda stuff d’you write about?’

‘This and that, a few horror novels.  To be honest I haven’t really thought about what to write about this time.’

‘Well I’m sure you’ll think of something.’

‘I hope so,’ I smiled and wandered off to find a table after accepting my change.

Half an hour later, just as I was starting my second drink of the night, she walked onto the stage.  I was instantly mesmerized.  She was beautiful.  Long blonde hair and an angelic face complete with big, blue eyes and thin, red lips.  Her long, smooth legs protruded from her denim mini skirt and her blue and white chequered shirt was tied by its bottom corners into a bow.  On her head she wore the obligatory cowboy hat.

‘Howdy y’all,’ she hollered into the microphone.  ‘My name’s Suzie and I’m gonna be playing a few tune’s for y’all to dance along with,’ she said before picking up her guitar.  I gazed at her for the next hour as she strummed on her guitar and sang along in her sweet southern voice.  She sang of love and loss, happiness and pain, acceptance and rejection.  After the first half an hour it looked as if she was about ready to drop.  It was a hot night, and it showed.  Her face, chest and stomach glistened with sweat; her hair clung to her scalp as if dowsed with water.  But she carried on going until she’d come to the end of her set.

When she finished she disappeared from the stage and headed to the back of the building.  I thought that was the last I’d see of her that night.  Luckily I was wrong.

Later that night I was standing at the bar, ordering my fifth drink of the evening, when Suzie came and stood next to me.

‘Hey,’ she said, greeting me in her soft but strongly accented voice.

‘Hi,’ I replied.  ‘Suzie, right?’

‘Yup.  And you are?’

‘Eddie,’ I replied, holding out my hand.  She took it and shook it gently.

‘Well it’s a pleasure to meet you Eddie.  You enjoy the show t’night?’

‘Sure did, you were great.’

‘Why thank you.  Didn’t see ya dancing though.’

‘No, I’m afraid my kind don’t dance.’

‘Your kind?’  She asked, pronouncing the word kind, “kand”.

‘White English men.’

She laughed.  ‘You’re funny.  I bet I can getcha to dance.’

‘Oh, I doubt it.’

‘Let me try, I bet I can.’

‘I wouldn’t want to put you through it.’

‘But I wanta.  C’mon, let me see’f I can do it.’

‘I…’  I didn’t get a chance to argue further.  She grabbed my arm and dragged me over to the dance floor where a dozen other couples were dancing.

‘Nobody’ll even see ya,’ she said.

We got to the dance floor and she pulled me against her and we began to sway to the sound of Kenny Chesney‘s “Living in Fast Forward”.

‘There you go,’ she said.  ‘And you said you couldn’t dance.’

‘I’d hardly say I’m dancing,’ I smiled.

‘Better than I used to.  Take me back five year ago and I couldn’t dance worth a damn.’

‘I find that hard to believe.’

‘It ain’t nothin’ but the truth.  ‘Til I started working here I had the rhythm of road kill.’

‘Well, perhaps there’s hope for me yet,’ we both laughed and continued.  We carried on dancing through to the conclusion of “Living in Fast Forward” and Keith Urban’s “Where the Blacktop Ends”.  When the latter finished, we went back to the bar where my drink was still waiting.

‘What are you drinking?’  I asked her.

‘Well, if you’re buying, I’ll have a double Jack,’ she smiled.  I nodded at the barmen to get his attention.

‘Howdy son, back for another?’

‘Not me.  Give me a double JD for Suzie.’

‘Certainly fella,’ he poured the drink and slid it along the bar towards us.  I handed him another ten and told him to keep the change.  Me and Suzie clinked our glasses together and sipped our drinks.

‘Don’t know how you can drink that stuff,’ I said.

She smirked.  ‘You’re in Tennessee, you gotta drink the whiskey.’

I chuckled and took another swig. ‘So,’ I said.  ‘How often do you play here?’

‘Few times a week.  Pays the bills.’

‘You don’t have another job?’

‘I teach kids to play the six string.  It don’t pay too much, but combined with singing here, I get by OK.  What brings you down to these parts?’

‘I’m working on a new novel.’

‘Oooh, a writer.  You done anything I might know?’

‘I doubt it.  I haven’t sold much, if anything, in the States.’

‘That’s a pity.  You’ll have to get me copies.’

‘Definitely.’

She smiled again.  We moved to a table next to the dance floor and sat opposite each other.  As I stretch out my legs, I nudged her shin by accident.

‘Sorry,’ I said.

‘That’s ok,’ she smiled. I couldn’t tell if she was blushing, her cheeks were still flushed from dancing.  I smiled back and sipped my drink.

After a short silence, Suzie spoke.

‘So, when I said I didn’t see you dancing before, I did see you watching me.’

‘You were performing; of course I was watching you.’

‘Yeah, but you weren’t just watching me for the performance, were you?’

‘I…err…I guess not.’

She giggled and bashfully tucked her hair behind her ears.

‘You want another dance?’  She asked.

‘I’d rather just talk.’

‘Well in that case, you wanta take me back to your place?  It’ll be easier to talk.’

‘Oh…I…really?’

‘Uh huh.’

‘I…I don’t know.’

She sighed.  ‘I know whatcha thinking.’

‘You do?’

‘Yup.  You’re thinking, “I wonder how many other guys she’s said that to in the past?  After all, she said she doesn’t earn too much money; she must need a little extra for herself.  Sure, I’m not bad looking, but she’s a stunner.  Why would she want to come back to my place if not for a little personal gain?”  Right?’

‘No.  No, of course not.  I mean, maybe the first part to an extent.  But I don’t think…I don’t think anything like that.’

‘An honest man, ain’t many of you around.’

‘No point in lying, the truth always comes out.’

‘True. We don’t have to go, I don’t staying here, it’s just after ten o’clock it tends to get pretty rowdy in here,’ she smirked.

‘Tell you what, we’ll finish these, get a bottle of wine to go, and smuggle it into my room. How does that sound?’

‘Sounds like a heck of a plan.’

At half past eleven, we were sat on the double bed in my hotel room, drinking the bottle of red we’d liberated from Johnny’s in tea cups, and talking about nothing in particular, until Suzie changed the subject.

‘About what I said in the bar…when I sort of accused you of thinking I was a hooker?’ Suzie said looking embarrassed.

‘Don’t worry about it.’

‘It’s just a lot of guys try it on with me, and most of them look at me and think I’m easy.  But you wanta know how many guys I have been with in the last few years?’  She didn’t give me a chance to reply.  ‘None.’

‘None?’

‘Nope.  In fact, I ain’t been with a guy for five years.’

‘Five years?  How old were…’

‘Fourteen.’

Fourteen.  Shit.  Can I ask…sorry you don’t have to tell me.’

‘It’s OK, I want to.’

I nodded.

‘I’ve never told anybody this, it’s kinda hard.’

‘So don’t…’

‘Shhhh!’ She cut me off, I apologised.

‘When I was eleven my daddy…err…he starting having sex with me.’

‘Jesus, Suzie.  I don’t think…’

‘Please Eddie.’

‘Sorry…I…go on.’

‘Like I said, my daddy started having sex with me.  He told me that it was normal and that everybody did it.  I knew he was lying, but I went along with it.  He could get a little violent after he’d spent most of the day slugging whisky from the bottle.  It went on for about three years, my mom never tried to stop him.  I knew it was because she was scared of him, but as far as I’m concerned, she was as much to blame as he was.

One day, after school, I came home and found my mom lying on the kitchen floor.  She was struggling to breathe.  I realized she was having a heart attack.  I saw my chance and I ran up stairs and packed a suitcase.  I didn’t even stop to give my mom one last look.  I just left her there to die.

I hung around a few bars and cafes, playing a few tunes, earning free meals and shit like that. Told ’em all I was sixteen, no-one ever asked questions.  Then one day Johnny offered me a few permanent gigs for money, not food.  He also let me use the spare room above the bar until I got myself on my feet.  I’ve been working there ever since.’

‘You live there too?’

‘No, I got a small apartment just down from here on 7th.’

‘Oh, ok.  So, what happened to your father?’

‘Last I heard he got wasted on whole bottle JD, sometimes I think that’s all he drank, and fell into the river and drowned after a fight.’

‘Too bad.’

‘Right,’ she grinned.  ‘Too bad no-one cleaned his clock a few years earlier.’

I smiled back.  ‘Must’ve been pretty rough on your own for the last five years.’

‘Are you kidding me?  It’s been great.  No one telling me what to do.  No one using me like he did.  I’ve made friends; I’ve got two jobs that I love.  I met you,’ another smile.

‘Yeah, I guess you did.’

We stared into each other’s eyes, and said nothing.  Eventually Suzie leant forward and kissed me.  It seemed to last forever and yet didn’t seem to last long enough.  When we broke off, she removed her blouse, she wore nothing beneath it, and placed my hands on her breasts.  They were warm and soft beneath my touch.

‘Make love to me,’ she whispered.

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes.  Please.

I nodded and kissed her again.  After we disrobed, I lay her back on the bed.  We continued kissing as our hands and lips explored each other’s bodies.

Outside it had begun to drizzle, the gentle thrumming of the rain on the window ledge set a calming back beat for the rhythm of our entwined bodies.  We made love until the early hours when we finally fell asleep in each others arms.

 

Chapter Two

I usually try to get to church on Sundays, let the big guy know I’m still on his side. But today I just couldn’t bring myself to leave the bed. After making love last night, Suzie and I had fallen asleep still holding each other. The warmth and the softness of Suzie’s skin against mine kept me firmly routed to the bed whilst she lay half on, half off me, her arm over my waist and her head resting on my chest. Peering through the small gap between the curtains, I could see a few drops of rain pirouetting down the window; the pitter-patter on the window ledge added to the feeling of tranquillity of lying in next to the woman I was sure I’d fallen in love with after just one night.

Eventually though, at about a quarter past ten, I decided that I had to use the bathroom. I removed her arm from across my abdomen and swung my legs off the bed and made my way across the room. After finishing, I washed up and headed to the kitchen to make two cups of coffee. When I got back to the bedroom, Suzie was awake. She was lying on her back. I could make out the shape of her body through the thin sheet she’d wriggled beneath; her long, smooth legs, her slim waist and hips, and the modest rise of her breasts.

‘Morning,’ she smiled at me.

‘Good morning.’

‘I don’t think we’re gonna make it to church.’

‘I’m sure we can get away with missing one week.’

‘Mmm. Besides, I’m far too comfy here,’ she said, smoothing the sheet against her velvety skin. She held out her hand.

‘Gimme. I need to wake up.’

I walked to her side of the bed and set one cup down before making my way back to my side and slipping back beneath the covers. No sooner had my body hit the mattress and Suzie was on top of me, her bare skin once more pressed firmly against mine. She kissed me. Not a soft like we shared last night, but firm and passionate. When she broke away and tried to roll off me, I held her close against me. She let out a playful squeal and kissed me on the tip of my nose.

‘What we gonna do t’day?’ She asked.

‘I don’t know. What ever you fancy.’

‘Well, I ain’t never been to the Country Music Hall of Fame before.’

‘Where’s that?’

‘Down on 5th Avenue South.’

‘Sounds good to me. You’ve really never been there?’

‘Nope. Been here my whole life an’ never been there. Never had the money to be honest. I can afford it now though.’

‘Well it’s a shame that I’m buying then.’

‘I can pay.’

‘Don’t be daft, it’s my treat.’

She smiled and kissed me. ‘You’re a sweetheart.’ Then she rolled off me, downed her coffee and swung her legs off the bed.

‘Where you going?’ I asked.

‘To pee and shower.’

‘You need any company.’

She feigned a frown. ‘To pee?’

I chuckled, she laughed. ‘If you join me we won’t never get there, will we?’

‘I guess not.’

As she walked towards the bathroom door, I gazed at her pert buttocks as they gently wiggled beneath her smooth back. Then the door shut. I lay back on the bed sipping my coffee. For a moment I wondered how on earth she’d managed to drink hers so quickly. When I heard the shower kick into life I picked up the telephone and called down to room service.  I hung up after being told it would be with me in ten to fifteen minutes, and headed for the bathroom once more.  I opened the door quietly and saw Suzie’s silhouette behind the shower curtain.   I walked towards her and slowly pulled back the curtain.

‘Couldn’t resist, huh?’  Suzie whispered.  I stepped in and kissed her.   Her body, slippery with shower gel and shampoo, felt like velvet beneath my hands.

‘Room service will be here in ten minutes,’ I told her.

‘Better be quick then,’ Suzie smirked.

‘I think I can manage that.’

We both laughed as I gently pushed her up against the wall of the shower.

At half past two we left the museum. In the gift shop I bought Suzie a new Stetson and a compilation CD containing most of her favourites, including: Ronnie Milsap’s “Smokey Mountain Rain”, Johnny Cash “I Walk the Line”, Alabama’s “Tennessee River”, Steve Earle’s “Someday” and Garth Brooks “Aint Going Down Till the Sun Comes Up”.

‘That was awesome!’ Suzie said as we walked hand in hand out of the main entrance. ‘Thanks for the prezzies.’

‘You’re welcome.’

‘I coulda got them myself though.’

‘I know. But I wanted to treat you.’

She leant against me, her head resting on my shoulder.

‘We should get some lunch,’ Suzie suggested.

‘Good idea, I’m starving. Any suggestions?’

‘We could keep with the music theme and go to Hard Rock Café.’

‘Do they do food?’

‘Sure do. They don’t do nothing big, but we can get a proper meal tonight, right?’

‘Sure can ma’am,’ I said in my best southern accent.

‘Idiot,’ she laughed and nudged me playfully.

As we wandered back up towards Broadway, Suzie put her arm around my waist.

‘Why are you being so good to me?’ She asked.

‘What do you mean? Because I like you…a lot.’

‘But you only just met me last night.’

‘So.’

‘So…I don’t know. I ain’t never fallen for someone so quickly before.’

‘You’ve fallen for me?’

‘Well, yeah. I wouldn’t have told you ‘bout my folks if not. And you’re the first guy I’ve been with since…you know.’

I pulled her close. ‘Would it be weird if I said that I was falling in love with you?’ I felt her shaking her head against my shoulder.

‘So what happens now?’ She asked. ‘If we both feel like this? You ain’t gonna be here forever, right?’

‘Why not? It’s not like I have a job to go back to. I’m a writer. I can go where I want and write where I want; all I need is my laptop, the internet, and a phone.’

‘Mmm, go where you want. That sounds good.’

‘Yeah. Well, why don’t we?’

‘Seriously?’

‘Why not?’

‘I’ve never even been outside Nashville in my life.’

‘There’s a first time for everything.’

‘I guess. Oooh exciting! When we gonna go?’

‘We should work out where to go first.’

‘Franklin. I always wanted to try ’n rodeo.’

‘You want to rodeo?’

‘Yeah. It’ll be so fun. We have t’do it.’

‘I…ok, sure. Franklin it is.’

‘Yay!’ She flung both arms around me as we turned the corner on to Broadway.

After we ate, we headed on over to Johnny’s so Suzie could break the news.  She explained that it was a spur of the moment decision, and that she felt it was time for her to move on, away from Nashville. He said he understood.

‘You know you’ll always have a job here Suze.’

‘I know, thanks Johnny.’

He gave her a solemn grin. ‘How ‘bout a coupla drinks before you go?’

‘We ain‘t going for a week or two, Johnny.’

‘I know, I guess I wanna just spend as much time with ya as possible.’

Suzie blinked away a tear and hugged her friend and boss.

‘I could give you guys a bit of time by yourselves if you’d like,’ I suggested.

‘Don’t be silly,’ Johnny said. ‘Besides, I’ve got get to know the man who’s taking my Suzie away,’ he smirked.

We sat down at the same table as last night. Johnny joined us. He brought three glasses and a bottle of Jack.

‘Oh, I think I’ll just stick to the gin,’ I said.

‘Like hell,’ Johnny said with a smile. ‘You ain’t leaving with my gal ‘til you at least have a coupla shots.’

‘Well, alright. What’s the worst that can happen?’ I said as Johnny poured the whiskey. We each picked up a glass and clinked them together.

‘To Suzie and Eddie and their big adventure,’ Johnny said, and we all drank.

The next morning I woke up with the biggest hangover of my life. After taking a few minutes to gather myself, I heard the shower running. I left the bed, each footstep was like a needle to my temple, and made my way to the bathroom. I pushed open the door.

‘Morning,’ I said to the blurred figure behind the shower curtain.

‘Hey. How’s the head?’

‘Oh, fantastic.’

She giggled. ‘Why don’t you come and join me again. I’m sure I can make you feel better.’

I didn’t doubt her for a second. I removed my boxers and pulled back the curtain. The sight of Suzie’s naked body, glistening beneath the warm spray, made feel a little better already. I put my hands on her hips and pulled her against me. We kissed for a long time as the water caressed our bodies. Squeezing shower gel onto her hands, Suzie began to gently rub me down; cleansing my body, sticky with sweat from last night’s drinking session. I returned the favour.
We didn’t leave the shower until the water ran luke-warm.

‘I guess that’s our cue to get some breakfast,’ I whispered in her ear and softly kissed her neck.

‘I s’pose.’

‘Room service?’

‘How ‘bout Dunkin’ Donuts?’

‘Dunkin’ Donuts?’

‘Yeah, you haven’t been yet, and you wouldn’t let me go yesterday. Besides, you gotta at least try it once, it’s soooo good!’

‘Alright,’ I said, giving in.

After we got dressed we headed out of the hotel and got a taxi to Murfreesboro Pike, a long way to go for breakfast, but worth it to see Suzie smile. The donuts were surprisingly pleasant. I don’t usually eat that kind of junk, but I guess it makes a nice change every once in a while. After breakfast we headed back to the hotel to try and decide on a route for our adventure.

A week and a half later, we’d decide where to go, at least for the first month or so, the rest we’d play by ear. After we’d packed, we went over to Johnny’s to say goodbye. Suzie was already crying by the time we parked outside the bar. We headed inside and were greeted by the landlord.

‘You best take good care of my Suzie,’ he said, his arm secured firmly around my shoulders. ‘She’s a special young lady.’

‘She’s the best. Of course I’ll take care of her.’

‘Good lad. Here, got you something.’ Johnny handed me a bottle of Jack Daniels. I chuckled and told him I probably wouldn’t be able to so much as sniff any more whiskey for as long as I live.

We piled our luggage into the truck and, after sharing our goodbyes with Johnny, we set off.

‘Franklin here we come!’ Suzie hollered after drying her eyes.

‘Yee haw!’ I added – at least it made Suzie laugh.

‘So,’ I asked after she’d composed herself. ‘Do you know which way we’re going?’

Two Sentence Horror Stories: #4 – Imposter

12 Nov

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I arrived home from work late, went upstairs to the bedroom, and saw my wife cocooned in the bedsheets. I kissed her head and opened the closet door to find my beloved crouched and shaking in the corner – “there’s something in the bed”, she said as the sound of the quilt dropping to the floor behind me made my blood run cold.

Two Sentence Horror Stories: #3 – Time’s Up

11 Nov

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Two Sentence Horror Stories: #2 – Night Terrors

10 Nov

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My son always starts crying and screaming at the same time every night. I usually pick him up and rock him back to sleep, but sometimes I’m just too tired to go digging in the garden.

Two Sentence Horror Stories: #1 – A Death In The Family

10 Nov

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The house is a lot quieter since my baby brother passed away.
I just wish he’d stop staring at me when I’m trying to sleep.

Endless Night (Short Story) – Chapter One

23 Sep

So this is my second short story, but unlike Country Girl (which I swear I will finish by the end of the year!), this is completed. Although it is a very short story, I’ve decided to split it up so that I don’t overload you with the whole thing in one go.

Enjoy!

Endless Night

10.47pm

It had been a long night and Freddy was looking forward to getting back home to Jenny and a bottle or two of wine. He turned left at the junction, just like Donny had advised. This “short-cut” would apparently knock fifteen minutes off his journey home to his detached, four bedroom house in the Beverly Hills suburbs, and to his wife and six month old daughter, Kim.

The road Donny had sent him on, as Freddy now discovered, was unlit and tree lined.

‘Great,’ he muttered to himself. ‘A fucking back road’.

Despite his grievance he continued. At least the chances of hitting traffic was slim to none. He switched on his Ipod, selected Tim McGraw, and began to hum along.

The reading had gone well. He always enjoyed the reading part. It was the book signing afterwards he never liked. He was a poet for Christ sake. Surreal, eccentric…how could he have such boring fans? He must have met about 200 people tonight, and at least 170 of them asked where he got his inspiration from, or what motivates him to write, or some variation of the same fucking question. Each time he gave the same answer of:

‘Well, most of the time it just comes to me in my sleep.’

Obviously he never told the truth:

‘I just read old poems that most people have forgotten about, and change them enough so that nobody notices. And if they do, they just come to the conclusion that that particular poem is just where I got my inspiration from’. God damn idiots.

Of course it was still fun being a successful young poet. These days poets are pretty much insignificant, and even if you’re good you can’t normally make a decent living from it, unless you’re the reincarnation of Dante, Virgil, or Homer. But somehow Freddy just got noticed by the right guy from the right publisher. His latest book “Ramblings of Recluse” had sold over one million copies. I wonder if there’s been a more popular poet than me since Ginsberg? Freddy thought arrogantly.

It hadn’t been a completely tedious night though. There was, of course, his “number one fan” Paddy.

‘Paddy? That’s an unusual name for a girl,’ Freddy said with a smile, looking up at the tall blonde in front of his table.

‘I know, right? It’s short for Patricia, but that’s just, like, totally lame. So I thought I’d do something different. And I know Paddy is normally short for Patrick, or whatever, but I thought “screw it, I’m so gonna use it”.’

‘That’s awesome,’ Freddy said, his reply oozing with sarcasm that the pretty little ditz didn’t pick up on.

‘So, like, where do you get your inspiration from?’ She’d finally asked.

Freddy smiled at Paddy and replied. ‘It’s from people like you, Paddy. My fans, my friends, my family, it’s all of you that make me what I am. And for that I’m truly grateful.’

Paddy practically swooned as Freddy handed back her signed book.

Twenty minutes later, during his ten minute break, he found himself in the bathroom, Paddy’s legs wrapped around his waist, and her backed against the wall.

‘Oh Freddy, oh Freddy, oh Freddy, oh God!’ She screamed. That’s me, Freddy thought with a smirk.

He couldn’t help but chuckle at his recollection of his nights highlight. He looked down at the clock: 11.02pm.

‘What the fuck?’

How long had been day dreaming…and not looking at the road? It can’t have been fifteen minutes, he’d be upside down in a ditch by now. Besides, Donny told him that he’d only be on this road for ten minutes max if he kept to the speed limit. No, the clock must be on the blink.

Suddenly a wave of guilt washed over him. Jenny and Kim. He loved them both to bits, and he hated doing what he did with the likes of Paddy, but sometimes…these boring jackasses…when he’s away for sometimes weeks at a time…no, there was no excuse. Especially night’s like tonight when he knew he’d be back home within five or six hours.

‘Scum of the earth,’ he chastised himself.

‘Ain’t that the truth.’

Freddy slammed on the brakes and spun around in his chair to confront the owner of the voice, hiding in his back seat. A crazy ass fan, more than likely. He leant over the back of his chair, fist clenched.

Nothing.

The seat was empty. Shaking, Freddy opened his door and got out the car. He picked up the flash-light from his passenger seat and popped the trunk. Running, so that whoever was in there wouldn’t have a chance to escape, he quickly made his way to the rear of the car. Swinging the trunk open, he shone his light inside.

Empty.

Closing the door he swept his flash-light around the surrounding area, looking for signs of someone running away.

Nothing.

But he heard someone, hadn’t he? “Ain’t that the truth”? Some cheeky little prick agreeing with him? Maybe, maybe not. The only thing he knew for certain was that it was creepy as hell standing outside on this deserted road.

‘Quiet,’ he said to himself. He couldn’t be too far from the main roads now, surely? Yet he couldn’t hear anything, not even the distant buzzing of traffic.

He got back in the car and turned the ignition back on. The clock flashed up as 11.54pm.

‘You’ve got to be shitting me?’ He pulled out his cell phone. It confirmed the time. Scrolling down his contacts he stopped at Donny’s name. He hit the dial button. No service.

‘Donny you’re a piece of shit!’ Freddy screamed, and threw his cell onto the back seat. He turned on the ignition and put the car in drive, cursing Donny once more before pulling away. His mind immediately drifted back to the talk he gave before his poetry reading. It was the same talk he always gave, and the only time, really, that he ever meant what he said.

‘To me, personally, there is no such thing as a bad poem. In my opinion, poetry is the ultimate in subjective art. As long as poem means something to at least one person, then it’s a success. Of course, if you asked one thousand people which was better, Dante’s “Inferno”, or John Smith’s “Out Last Night”, nine hundred and ninety nine, or more, would probably say “Inferno”. But that doesn’t mean that “Out Last Night” , which doesn’t exist by the way, I just made it up as an example, is a bad poem. Obviously there’s a difference between an epic like “Inferno” and a small, personal poem like my “Long Days and Lonely Nights”, which, as many of you will know, is my most critically panned poem to date,’ Freddy smiled, drawing a small ripple of laughter from the audience.

‘But how can you judge something that’s a product of nothing more than the emotions and frustrations of its writer? It’s not like a horror or thriller novel, or a Hugh Grant rom-com. It’s not, always, some piece of made up fiction created to make the reader feel good about themselves, or to provoke excitement or a rush of adrenaline. Hell, sometimes a poem isn’t even written for people to like at all. To me it’s an outlet for all of those pent up feelings that I perhaps can’t always vocalise.

So how can you judge and criticise something like that? As far as this poet is concerned, you can’t’.

That little speech always got a round of applause. The first time it happened, he couldn’t understand it. He’d never been particularly eloquent unless it was in writing. He never use to be a good public speaker. He still wasn’t great, he had a tendency to stutter slightly and forget a word or two. But for some reason those 257 words, even though by no means perfect, always got a good reaction from every crowd. It almost made him feel like he deserved it.

Freddy snapped back to reality, his subconscious dragging him out of the daydream once more, before he ran into any bad luck. He rubbed his eyes. Was he getting drowsy? No, they were stinging, like he’d been chopping onions, or standing close to a bonfire. He felt too hot and checked the heater.

Off.

He wound down the window and was greeted by a blast of abnormally hot air. He was about to shut the window again, but something stopped him. He could hear something. Children singing.

As the car continued forward, the singing got louder, and finally, in the eerie, pitch black of the night and amidst the bizarre heat, he could finally make out the words. An almost ethereal sound, as if not quite solid, not quite…here.

Fire, fire, everywhere.

Melting skin and burning hair.

Shout for help but no-one cares.

Fire, fire, everywhere.

Freddy wound the window up quickly as humanly possible. The minute the glass slotted into its rubber surround, the heat fell away.

‘What the fuck is going on?’ Freddy asked himself and dared to look down at the clock. He laughed an almost manic laugh.

12.37am.