fiction84's profile

wind-tossed hair, road-worn shoe

.this requires an exodus. indeed, my fellow writers keep to the bar. exodus.

.from here, vision set east towards archaic brick, a brilliant wall of electric patterns crackled in cold european night. it was here that he recieved the postcard, under electric castles. .and now, a gloved hand signals an approaching taxi, yellowed body reflected on a London thoroughfare, dim crowds of shadowed suits bathed in its headlights. .inside, blonde leather .aged english, vocals lax from smoking. he wore a hat, dark shape covering a tuff of light grey. "where to, mate?" "station."...

and yes, even now. flash fiction.

.and there, now, amid those endless freeways of twisted blacktop a mechanical music was released a carhorn symphony .brunner never saw the girl courtroom statement pleaded not guilty. .he got 6 years a concrete labyrinth becoming his tomb and from that, his mind. forever. changed. .he pulled contact with a 3rd cousin, mothers side said he knew people that knew people could be of some aide. .with that said, the phonecall ended brunner flew to florida with 96 dollars and a torn Perry Ellis wind...