Black

Without any introduction, here’s my short story, influenced by the song “Black” by Pearl Jam.

Black

by Fay Moore © 2012

 

The night is black as bitterness. He sits in the dark, staring out the window at thunderheads that are casting spears.

 

“Thor, my man, I feel you,” he says.

 

At that moment, all the twinkling lights of the cityscape, that have been mocking his dark thoughts, extinguish. He blinks. It is pitch black before him.

 

“Perfect.”

 

He has been sitting in the dark so long his eyes are accustomed to night. He decides to take a walk and shoves his house keys into his pocket. He heads toward her apartment. He tells himself he wants to be sure she is okay. In the dark. Alone. In the city.

 

She left him three weeks ago. He told her good riddance, that no one would want her scrawny ass. He told her then, she’d be back. She didn’t come back.

 

He walks with purpose, covering ten blocks quickly. He pulls his dark hoodie forward and obscures his face. He stashes his hands in the pockets. With his black pants and boots, he’s invisible in the night. Soon he is positioned outside her street-level window, concealed in the night shade of a tree, whenever lightening flashes overhead.

 

He sees her come into the window room from someplace out of view, carrying two lighted candles in holders. She sets them on her low coffee table, as if at the edge of a stage. He feels he is watching a live performance from an orchestra seat. Then, he sees the actress look offstage and smile. She says something he cannot hear.

 

Another player appears in the footlights. A man. He is carrying a bowl of chips in one hand and two bottles of beer by the long necks in his other hand. She sits on the couch, opposite the window. The man sits beside her. He places the food and drink on the table, then leans back, throwing his arm behind the woman on the back of the sofa. She is laughing. She leans up, gets a beer, then leans back, nestling into the man. They are talking to each other. Animatedly. Happily. Together.

 

Not like the watcher and she used to talk.  Then it was at, not with, each other. At least that’s how it was at the end. How it was on the night she left. She left him. Forever.

 

He feels forever. It’s black.

 

Coming In Like a Lion

Today –the last day of June– I was driving my car, my radio set to a rock station that was playing selections from four decades. The songs conjured stories. I thought, why not do a month of musically influenced short stories? Each story will be inspired by one song. The inspiration can come from the lyrics, the emotion or simply the sound of the music.

So, for July, that is what I am going to do. Intermixed with my usual advice for writers and other similar stuff, I am going to write a short story, flash fiction or haiku tied to music.

My first song selection is “Black” by Pearl Jam.  It is the melody that was playing when the idea hit me. I’ve included a YouTube link below, which includes the lyrics. This anthem expresses the bitterness associated with lost love. A listener doesn’t need to know what the lyrics are to know the vocalist is expressing emotional pain.

If you don’t know the song. listen to it the first time with your eyes closed. Just feel it. Then watch the video so you can read the lyrics.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QV2iYFl5eSk&feature=related

The story is coming soon to a blog near you.

DINNER

DINNER.

Read this on 4-10-2012, knowing my post today was a good macabre twin to DINNER. Just had to press this here for side by side comparisons for you readers. Maybe the two malevolents should be introduced. . . .

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You may contact the author through his website at http://www.boboconnorbooks.com/index.htm .