mike the mountain » Stories http://www.mikelawton.com/blog Thu, 03 Nov 2011 15:36:09 +0000 en hourly 1 http://wordpress.org/?v=3.3.1 Halloween Repost: Always wear comfortable shoes when driving at night http://www.mikelawton.com/blog/2011/10/31/halloween-repost-always-wear-comfortable-shoes-when-driving-at-night/ http://www.mikelawton.com/blog/2011/10/31/halloween-repost-always-wear-comfortable-shoes-when-driving-at-night/#comments Tue, 01 Nov 2011 03:05:07 +0000 Mike Lawton http://www.mikelawton.com/blog/?p=769 Well colour me disappointed in myself. Here it is, Halloween night, and I haven’t written anything new and original to share and scare.

Oh well, can’t let my favourite night of the year go by without getting on my little cyber-soapbox. Here’s a little piece of flash fiction I wrote in 2009 that I was kinda proud of (even if I’m still not crazy about the ending).

Always wear comfortable shoes when driving at night

Run.

Keep running. Run faster.

Don’t stop. For anything.

Run.

RUN!

…

Turn right. Down that alley.

NO!!

BACK TO THE STREET!

Right. Go. Stay in the streetlights.

Why are all the houses dark? Why isn’t anybody home?

Where is everybody?

…

I don’t know where I am. I don’t recognize anything, no buildings or street names.

I don’t know where I left my truck. I don’t know what I hit. Hard enough to crush the steel bumper and snap off a wheel.

I know there wasn’t anything there when I got out to look.

…

I don’t know what’s chasing me.

…

Can’t scream anymore. Hard enough to breathe.

Tried calling for help. No answer.

Tried pounding on doors. No answer. Not a light or sound from any of these houses.

Haven’t seen a single other car drive by, or person out for a walk, or even a stray cat or squirrel.

Just row after row of the same three models of some developer’s idea of suburban paradise.

…

Have to keep running.

I can hear them. Chasing me. No idea how many.

Can’t see them, but I can hear them.

They’re getting closer.

Keep running.

…

Left. Wait. Haven’t I already been down there?

Every street here looks the same.

There has to be a way out. A way back to the main road. With other cars, other people.

Just keep running. Left. Go. GO!

…

Is that a light? Is that a light on in that house?? It is!

HEY! HEY!! HELP!!

THERE’S SOMETHING CHASING ME!

PLEASE! HELP!

…

…

The light’s out.

…

I can’t hear anything. They’re gone?

No.

They’re here. They’re h

I’M SORRY I’M SORRY IT WAS AN ACCIDENT I DIDN’T SEE YOU I’M SORRY IT WAS AN ACCID

 

Happy hunting my little demons. May candies feed your bellies and fantasies feed your nightmares for weeks to come.

]]> http://www.mikelawton.com/blog/2011/10/31/halloween-repost-always-wear-comfortable-shoes-when-driving-at-night/feed/ 0 Always wear comfortable shoes when driving at night http://www.mikelawton.com/blog/2009/10/31/always-wear-comfortable-shoes-when-driving-at-night/ http://www.mikelawton.com/blog/2009/10/31/always-wear-comfortable-shoes-when-driving-at-night/#comments Sat, 31 Oct 2009 21:39:14 +0000 Mike Lawton http://www.mikelawton.com/blog/?p=614 Just posted another story on Ficly; I wanted to write something suitably spooky for Halloween. I wrote about 90% of it around 2am this morning (couldn’t sleep), and finished the rest this afternoon. You can read it here.

Unfortunately my original draft was over the character limit for Ficly (1024), so I had to cut it down quite a bit. Here’s the story in it’s “unabridged” form:

Always wear comfortable shoes when driving at night


Run.

Keep running. Run faster.

Don’t stop. For anything.

Run.

RUN!

…

Turn right. Down that alley.

NO!!

BACK TO THE STREET!

Right. Go. Stay in the streetlights.

Why are all the houses dark? Why isn’t anybody home?

Where is everybody?

…

I don’t know where I am. I don’t recognize anything, no buildings or street names.

I don’t know where I left my truck. I don’t know what I hit. Hard enough to crush the steel bumper and snap off a wheel.

I know there wasn’t anything there when I got out to look.

…

I don’t know what’s chasing me.

…

Can’t scream anymore. Hard enough to breathe.

Tried calling for help. No answer.

Tried pounding on doors. No answer. Not a light or sound from any of these houses.

Haven’t seen a single other car drive by, or person out for a walk, or even a stray cat or squirrel.

Just row after row of the same three models of some developer’s idea of suburban paradise.

…

Have to keep running.

I can hear them. Chasing me. No idea how many.

Can’t see them, but I can hear them.

They’re getting closer.

Keep running.

…

Left. Wait. Haven’t I already been down there?

Every street here looks the same.

There has to be a way out. A way back to the main road. With other cars, other people.

Just keep running. Left. Go. GO!

…

Is that a light? Is that a light on in that house?? It is!

HEY! HEY!! HELP!!

THERE’S SOMETHING CHASING ME!

PLEASE! HELP!

…

…

The light’s out.

…

I can’t hear anything. They’re gone?

No.

They’re here. They’re h

I’M SORRY I’M SORRY IT WAS AN ACCIDENT I DIDN’T SEE YOU I’M SORRY IT WAS AN ACCID

Let me know what you think!

]]> http://www.mikelawton.com/blog/2009/10/31/always-wear-comfortable-shoes-when-driving-at-night/feed/ 1 The Test of Trees (Part 01) http://www.mikelawton.com/blog/2009/08/16/the-test-of-trees-part-01/ http://www.mikelawton.com/blog/2009/08/16/the-test-of-trees-part-01/#comments Sun, 16 Aug 2009 07:01:35 +0000 Mike Lawton http://www.mikelawton.com/blog/?p=602 Drove far past where the roads turned to gravel, then dirt.  Parked by a tall tree with bright leaves, flanked by a twisted spruce with dead red needles.  Put one mountain peak at my back, a beckoning finger raised, and mark another in the distance.  A sheer rock face at the end of a curving ridge, like soup pouring over the edge of a spoon.

(I’m already thinking of food.)

It takes me the rest of the day to reach the foot of the mountain face.  Had to cross one small stream, trying to forget about it.  Any foreknowledge of the area is against the rules.

I gather some wood, start a small fire (the easy way) and get some water boiling in a metal pot.  Some goes in a foil pouch labelled “Chicken Enchillada”, the rest gets mixed with hot chocolate powder.  I savor the taste of spice and sweet, eating and drinking at a pace to hold the memories on my tongue.  I sleep in a tunnel of blue nylon held up by army surplus paracord.  Tonight I am warm, dry, and full.

I don’t sleep.

(To be continued…)

]]> http://www.mikelawton.com/blog/2009/08/16/the-test-of-trees-part-01/feed/ 1