Tuesday, 15 October 2013

The Snow Killer - Part One

Hello faithful blogger.com readers (or random people on the internet),

I am bored, and freezing, so I am going to write a story right here, right now, about a Snow Killer. Who knows what that means? Me neither, let's find out together....

The Snow Killer

"No tah, sweetheart, my, er, boyfriend will be here soon. Keep the drink, and leave me alone, will you? ". The brunette swivelled back around on the bar stool, and giggled with her friend. Pissed, Danny walked out of the bar, zipped up his hoodie, and turned the corner.

Stupid cow, who does she think she is? I'm a great guy. I don't need her. I could get any bitch I wanted. She's not even that nice looking, I prefer blondes anyway. Fucking bitch. Stuck up: that's what she is...

He could feel the anger consuming his body. It started, as always, in his eyes: they blurred with rage, and the world became an abstract painting through a pane of wet glass. His head started to burn beneath the skin, and his breath was the cloud of smoke escaped from a overheated microwave meal for one.

He shoved his icicles into his pockets, crossed the road, and hid under the bus shelter.

I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm fine.

The blood in his veins raced around his body.
Pump. Pump. Pump. 

Just breathe. For fuck sake, I'm fine.

Rush. Rush. Rush.

"Do you have a light, babe?" A platinum and orange mess in a leopard print coat smiled at him, a fag hanging from the left side of her mouth.
The icicles handed her a lighter, and returned to the pocket.

She curved her hand around the end of the cigarette, and lit the nicotine-filled stick. She went to hand the lighter back, but Danny shook his head; "I've quit. Effective immediately." He studied his shoelaces, black, shiny things, ragged at the ends from never being off the ground.

Pump. Rush. Pump. Rush. Pump. Rush.

"Each to their own, sweetheart". She smiled, and shifted slightly, as to face him more. "Ya'know, yer not that bad to look at, fer a kid, like. Aye, in my younger days, I might 'ave."

Gratitude escaped from his lips. Fuck, what do I care, she's just some old chavvy bird anyway. Who gives a fuck what she thinks?

"Listen, kid. I'm feeling good today. what d'ya say te a drink in that pub o'er there?"

"No, thanks, lady. I just left there. It's shit."

"Aye, but at least it's warm" She smiled at him again, and then held out her hand. "Diane Warner"

"Danny Fores"

"Well, alright then Danny-boy, let's go get smashed, eh?" She laughed, took his arm, and dragged him across the road.

She's friendly at least. I'll give her that. Bit common though...

As they entered the pub, Danny noticed the brunette was still perched prettily on her stool. He excused himself, and approached her.

Rush. Rush. Rush.

Keep it cool, no need to freak out.

"Oh, it's you again. My boyfriend-"
"No he isn't. I don't care. I just wanted to say, you should really watch how you treat people. That, and you're not even that fit."
"How dare you!" She slapped Danny across the face, then stormed off.

Pump. Rush. Pump. Rush. Pump. Rush.

Diane came sprinting over, and shook him by the shoulders.
"What happened?"

Pump. Pump. Pump.

"Nothing, it's fine. Let's just get a drink." He pulled out his wallet, ordered two tequilas and a beer, and a gin and tonic for Diane. He carried the drinks over to the table she'd picked.

Great, a corner table. Now I'm alone with the old cow. But, she didn't freak out and leave...

Well. There is the first 574 words of the story. What do you think?

- Mel

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