Hello Tim

Thu, 16 Oct 2008 12:34:06 +0100

Tim’s fingertips were sore from bending the strings of his guitar. His throat was scratchy, and sweat was poring from his body. His metal band “A Dark Revival” had just finished their Halloween performance. As they loaded their gear, and started to board the bus, Tim asked an employee how to get to the nearest interstate.

“Make sure you don’t miss it, it’s hard to see” the man called as Tim walked back to the bus. He felt a raindrop splash down on his arm, and couldn’t help but think it was a bad omen. Quickly, he dismissed it, and joined in the party on the bus.

“That was an awesome show, man,” Nate said as he slapped Tim on the back “The best one of the tour”.

“You’re telling me! Did you see that girl in the front row, man? She was all over me. Undressing me with her eyes, man. I could tell” Tim rambled on about her for a while and realized they hadn’t gotten to the interstate yet. “I’m going to talk to Mike” he said, and made his way to the front of the bus.

“Tim, man, I can’t see a thing in this rain. I think we need to pull over.” Mike was clearly agitated, and very tired. The bags under his eyes were a deep shade of purple, which made him look at least ten years older.

“You want me to drive, Mike?” Time suggested. “We don’t have time to pull over, we have a show tomorrow. If we stop we’ll never make it on time”

“I can’t let you do that., you guys aren’t paying me to sleep” Mike said with a sigh.

“Well are you sure you didn’t miss the interstate? We’ve been going for a while now an-“

“I’m positive. I’ve been paying more attention to the signs than the road itself, man. I got this.” He focused his eyes even more.

With a sigh Tim went to the back of the bus, and sat down. Exhausted and hungry, he closed his eyes, and was quickly reliving the night in his dreams.

Suddenly, he was thrown off of his seat when the bus jerked to a halt.

“Something’s wrong, guys! The bus is broken” Mike voice called over their annoyed tones.

They all got off the bus, and looked at the engine. No one noticed, or cared, about the white fog that surrounded them. The rain was coming down much harder now, and the cold droplets stung their skin.

Mike rambled off a few things that needed to be replaced, and grumbled to himself. “How are we supposed to get this fixed out here in the middle of nowhere?” he was clearly angry now, and kicked the tire before he got back inside. The rest followed, and sat looking at their shoes dismally. Periodically griping to themselves.

“I think I saw a gas station not too far back” Mike remembered. “I can go see if they have what we need”.

“Let me go, Mike” Tim called before Mike could get off they bus. “You need sleep more than I do. I’ll be back soon”

He pulled on his hoodie, tightened the drawstrings, and left the bus. He could barely see anything through the fog, but he kept on walking. The steady sound of his footsteps against the pavement kept him on track.

He jumped when the thunder sounded. It was louder than it had been, and when the lightning lit up the sky he was too lost in his own thoughts to see the transparent horror that followed him.

Finally the light from the station came into view. He ran the rest of the way, and threw his hood off in achievement when he stepped inside. Immediately, he regretted this decision. There was a terrible smell the overpowered all of his senses. He quickly covered his nose with his sleeve, and set out to find the manager. There was no one at the desk.

“Hello?” he called as he reached the doors in the back. “Is anyone in here?”

He jiggled a doorknob only to find that the door wasn’t shut completely. As soon as it was cracked open, the smell grew ten times worse than before. He slowly pushed the door all the way open, and looked inside.

His eyes opened wide as he stood in horror. There were blood splatters covering the walls. Bits of fingers that had been cut off were just sitting on a desk. All the blood had been drained from them. In the middle of the room a man, or what was left of one, hung from the ceiling.

His hair was a deep black color that was only intensified by the red glow that covered it. His clothes had been ripped to shreds, as well as his body. Tim walked closer to him, cringing at the sound his steps made in the pools of blood below. As he walked around to the man’s face he realized it had been torn off. All that remained was a skull. No eyes, no muscles, no tongue. Just bones.

He jumped as he though he saw something move behind him. He stared, waiting. Was the killer still here? Was he as good as dead as well? Tim cringed, as he waited.

Deciding it was just a trick of the light he looked back at the body. It was facing another direction.

“I’m out of here!” Tim screamed as he dashed out of the room, then the lobby, and the building. He grabbed his cell phone from his pocket and tried to dial 911.

They answered. Thank God. “A man has been murdered!” he shouted into the phone. “There was blood everywhere! His face ripped off!” he had started now, and couldn’t stop yelling. Describing it as well as he could. When he was finally done, he listened. There was no reply.

“Shit!” he screamed. His phone had been completely soaked by the rain. He couldn’t see one foot in front of his face. Nice time for him to notice that now. All he could do was run as fast as he could. They had to find a way out of here now. What if that killer was still here?

As he neared the bus he heard a deep laugh. At first he thought it was Nate, but he couldn’t be sure. The sound was muffled by the rain and thunder. He slowed down when he noticed the lights were off on the bus.

The door creaked open and he stepped inside. It was pitch black, and silent. Except for the rain.

“Hello, Tim” a voice called. “I’ve been waiting for you”

Road's End

Thu, 16 Oct 2008 12:33:17 +0100

I managed to glance down at my ancient golden pocket watch as I tried to push the thoughts from my mind. The look on her face, and the quiver in her voice were still ringing in my ears, and I couldn’t drown it out. I was wracked with guilt, for I had killed her. I had killed my wife.

She was a beautiful woman. Her hair looked like fire; full of orange-red curls shooting about wildly at every angle, yet still managing to appear tame, and shaped. Her eyes were the deepest of browns, and more elegant than I could ever had imagined. Even in death.

It was all her fault though. Everything she got she deserved. I had given her everything; a child, a wonderful home, and even a career. Alas, it was not enough; for nothing I could have done would have been enough for her. She loved another man.

His name was Damien, and he was a songwriter. He wooed her with his words, and toyed with her heart. I tried to make her understand that he didn’t want her. I tried. She didn’t believe me, and he would never leave her be. “I love her!” he would shout at me, but I knew it was a lie. So I shot him. He didn’t know about love. No one understood anything about love except me. I felt it with every beat of my heart, every glance in her direction, every thought I could muster. It was always about her, from the very second I heard her voice, looked into those beautiful eyes, and touched those lips. They quivered at my touch. Always.

I should stop thinking about her. What’s the point now? She’s dead. I killed her with my bare hands. I wrapped them around her warm throat, and squeezed. I ignored her gasps, and struggles. I just glared at her, and explained that she would never understand me. So I would kill her instead of make her live a loveless life with me.

I was doing her a favor. Didn’t she understand that? I was sending her off to some unknown place, which had to have been better than the life she had here. Miserable.

So here I am now, having to pay for my actions. I am punishing myself of course. I’m driving off a cliff. It’s a peaceful way to die I suppose. That is until you hit the ground. I can’t wait to feel the searing pain of my bones being crushed under this pile of useless metal. The feel of my blood oozing out of my cold skin in bursts. Thump. Thump. Thump. The slowing sound of my heartbeat.

Then that last breath.

It is all over now, for I’m finally to the road’s end.

Crash.

daily-creative-writing-blog

Hello Tim

Road's End