Viewing Thread:
"SSC14: - A Night's Tale"

This story starts on the outskirts of a dusty, aging motorway. The sun bids its day of peace on earth goodbye; flushed out by the light-consuming edge of the night. Not a single star hangs in the heavens, just an endless carpet of shade. Black and white monotones encircle, a thick coat of grey smoke sails across the faces of cars, blemishing an already limited vision for travellers. Everything is encased in a swirling mist, cars are still, it’s almost like nothing does exist.

The nocturnal activities of the car headlights and squirming exhaust pipes, however, tell us otherwise. And whilst life here, in an autonomous gridlock, seems all so controlled, there is something surreal about this setting. Something very surreal indeed. One earth-worn hand equipped with knife, rising up behind a whirring, foggy car, is all it takes; all it takes to send shivers down spines, hearts to mouths. The teetering edges of seats receive a new burden.

Still the smoke fails to reveal the identity of its inhabitant. People sit submerged by it in their cars, cautiously glancing around. They look ill, afraid. Slowly reaching towards her window, one woman presses the lock button for her car doors. Click, click; you’re all safe now dear. No, she tricks herself into thinking it’s a ‘just in case’ action. There’s no ticking time bomb here, waiting to explode in her face, there’s no shadow lurking secret, there’s absolutely no threat. The irony is that she thinks she’s seen it all before.

Her slow plunge into the depths of paranoiac fear is countered only by the logical tick-tocking of her head. All of a sudden, thought is swept away by the timely and bizarre opening of her untouched glove compartment. A heart-squeezed gasp emerges from her lips, her warm breath detecting the chilled air. Once again, eyes flutter into every direction. A sharp burst of clashing thunder from the skies makes sure that everything is motionless; upright like a dart that has protruded it’s target.

Outside things are quite different. Footsteps spill from the smoke. Jittery old boots with frayed laces and scuffed soles slowly explore their surrounds; tingles can be heard with every confrontation between the rubber and the ground. Clumsily, these legs give way upon hitting a lump in the road. One stout body collapses into the freezing metal of a car.

Clang! The sound to push a paranoid woman over the edge. Without even thinking she slams her foot down onto the acceleration pedal. Bracing herself in wait of an explosive boost of life, she clasps her eyes tightly shut. Stretched out from head to the very toe still holding the accelerator in, she loosens. Her car has failed to function. She opens her eyes; only to be met by a disfigured, sun scorched face at her windscreen. Glass fractures from the outside in. A helpless shriek endlessly echoes throughout the night. Crimson blood streams from her knife-seared wounds. The only sound comes from the drip dropping of spilled blood, exiting the car from beneath the door only to meet the pavement. The boots of a murderer walk past approvingly, and into the distance.

“…And cut! That’s it for today, awesome stuff team” exclaims an unusually pleased director. The fool is already under its spell; all is lost. A woman surfaces from the chaos-struck car and drops her blonde wig into the tomato ketchup blood, still dribbling onto the motorway floor. The smoke that plagued this backdrop for so long halts in spewing out of its machinery, and evaporates into nothingness.

Everything evaporates into nothingness.

Shut up Kyz.
You're such a cockshank sometimes.

I agree, Ky, stop touting around the fact that you're sort of an idol to me. There's so much talent on this forum it would be impossible for me to just find inspiration from what you write. Just because we write similarly, and have talked outside the forums, does not mean I base my style of writing on yours.

Edit: Thanks Thunder, FOR GETTING IN THE WAY!! M'RAH! No really, thanks man, it makes it all worth while when you get such great praise.

Enjoyed that.

Wonderful imagery and a nice twist at the end. As you didn't really state what was going on right a the beginning (or throughout) my mind painted an odd picture and then began to create its own plots. Then it was brought back with the ending. Wonderful.

Paradox: wrote:
> He touched my area :-(
>
> I think he's adopted my style, and he agrees.

If we're being honest, it's not your style, is it?

It's a style of writing.

I like very much. Tasty wordage. Although I don't think the "Clang!" is required.

He touched my area :-(

I think he's adopted my style, and he agrees.

I really dont mind, if anything it's a good thing.

Paradox: wrote:
> Again I feel totally plagiarised,

Why do you feel plagiarised?

Thanks for all the comments, guys.

Excellently written, and something of a new style emerging I think. I've not seeing twists from you very often so this was something of a joy. Again I feel totally plagiarised, except I'll let you off because you are fast becomming one of the best wordsmiths I've encountered. Either your lexis is as big as Hugh Grants ears, or your thesaurus pages are worn out and dog-eared from overuse.

This was indeed an excellently crafted piece, great use of the smoke, and nice little phillosophy at the end, however it did feel a tad out of place. Alongside your chest-bustingly good use of adjectives I did like your discomfortingly inept, though in a good way, way of describing people. Especially by the guy's boots. It was far superior by sayin "the boots explored the surroundings" than saying "the man walked here".

I'm impressed, and thats something I very often am not.

Muchly good.