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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.
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.
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yup surreal, but I didnt like te ending, that it was a film set. I dunno probably preference.
It's surreal. That probably means you achieved what you were intending, but it was far too much so, in my opinion. I disliked your choice of wording and phrasing for the most part and there were very few times when it successfully created an image of the scene. With the exception of a few solid phrases, there was little there to hold my intention.
More impressive was the plot structuring of the three final twists - the murder, the revelation and the final line - which, in my mind, was the story's saving grace - it presented it as a neat analogy to the nature of "reality". While it offered no solutions, the way you posed the question of "what is real" - in this case, "just because it's fictional, does it not exist?" - with that one, final and encompassing line was a satisfying conclusion that put the piece in an entirely new light.
More impressive was the plot structuring of the three final twists - the murder, the revelation and the final line - which, in my mind, was the story's saving grace - it presented it as a neat analogy to the nature of "reality". While it offered no solutions, the way you posed the question of "what is real" - in this case, "just because it's fictional, does it not exist?" - with that one, final and encompassing line was a satisfying conclusion that put the piece in an entirely new light.
Wonderful style and content and way with words - everything.
Lovely, really.
And although the ending was brilliant, me being me, I'd have preferred something a little more ... y'know. Stuff I like.
But not bad by any stretch of the imagination.
Lovely, really.
And although the ending was brilliant, me being me, I'd have preferred something a little more ... y'know. Stuff I like.
But not bad by any stretch of the imagination.
I preferred "A Knight's Tale".
Brilliant Ash, truly brilliant.
There was some lovely imagery, and I loved the ending. The topic of 'Smoke' has also been used cleverly and overall this was an excellent piece.
Nice one Ash ;)
There was some lovely imagery, and I loved the ending. The topic of 'Smoke' has also been used cleverly and overall this was an excellent piece.
Nice one Ash ;)
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.
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.
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