Picture?width=128&height=128

Jade Balmer

United Kingdom

I am my own person. Joy Division not One Direction. Alone but free.

Message to Readers

This is my first completed piece of writing, being poetic and all I never wanted to finish anything because to finish means to end. And to be honest I didn't want this story to end. So please any feedback would mean a lot. Thank you for finding the time to read this.

The Nights Encounter

April 5, 2016

PROMPT: Open Prompt

0
It was nearly nightfall when the canvas of the sky was painted. A rich azure blue flooded through the veins of the clouds, creating sapphire swirls that embedded the day light with cold, oil painted mystery. Strong winds brought different shades of indigo from the east. The sky was a mixture of dark colours from the palette of the evening, the weak brushes of the day now overpowered by the strong strokes of thick, black night. Slowly small jewels started to appear.

The blanket of the sky fell across this industrial jungle. The canopy was filled with towering silver structures; they corrupted the skyline and stood where ever you looked. Steel constructions loomed over those souls that would pace the street at night. The jungle had back alleys like rivers flooding between office blocks, were bankers and other desperadoes would hide and scheme, deep into the night. Poisonous fumes from distant cars, hung in the air.

Some of the windows in buildings glowed with such warmth it was as if a small fire was blazing in the rooms. These luminosities were cushioned by the blackness making them soft. Upon busy roads travelled scarlet buses, where lonely souls would sit and gaze out of windows. Some souls roamed the streets creating a hum of voices. Others adhered to corners of the paths with guitars in their hands, singing words that only the night could understand.

Ribbons of moonlight rippled over cobles on the street and yet the moon was no match for the army of streetlamps that stood to attention on the path ways. Pearls of rain started to fall and the road was soon flowing with tiny rivers that clung to the curbs only then to be caught finally by drains never to be seen again. The sight was peaceful. Even though the torment of the city lurked round every corner, it was peaceful enough to be content with. Or so she thought.

A silhouette suddenly disturbed the night. The dark male figure ambled into puddles making small splashes and creating ripples that flooded each pavestone, causing havoc in the tiny stillness. He stopped to lean against a decrepit wall. His hands then seeped into the pockets of his trench coat. The coat was a murky grey; they brought out his dismal eyes.  A sudden rapid ice cold wind slapped his face, he shivered with the pain. He reluctantly drew out his hands and lifted up the collar of his coat. The collar caressed his face and neck in the breeze. This action made the prominent features of his face stand out. He had a jagged jaw line; slick cheekbones and a pale complexion, making him look like a menace and an ever growing mystery.

He then made his way to a small disused bus stop. Its partitions covered in fine art: graffiti. His hands again retreated to his pockets to pull out a small white box, his hands coated in fine tailored leather. He cupped his hands and cautiously brought them to his face. He then revealed between his middle and index finger a glowing cigarette. Every so often a small slither of ash fell to the floor. He tilted his neck back. Then he breathed out the fatal smoke from his lungs. You had to admire a man who dared to smoke in the rain, even under a shelter.

From the coarse, cracked frame of a windowsill, she could see all. Industrious trees that suspended above and each small patter of rain were all clear to her. Her curious owl eyes, stared at each of his movements intensely. Moving nearer to the ledge, the thought ‘she could be seen by him’ lingered in her mind, but her curiosity drove her forward. Her brunette hair danced in the breeze.

She brought a glass of wine to her lips and watched as he lit the cigarette and watched as the fire burned it out. She sat in a sea of boxes; her clothes were flung over empty crates. Wallpaper has been scratched from the walls in a desperate attempt to take away the dingy floral pattern from the room.

Embracing her copy of Dorian Gray, she looked onwards at him. Her fingers carefully traced the spine of her book. As each finger left the creases of pages they ended up clinging to a key that was attached to a chain around her neck. The dull silver stood out from her black attire. Auburn hair clasped her neck also, like tentacles of a demented sea creature.
 
Finally the last of the cigarette fell to the floor. The rain fell gently, so gently that moments later it stopped. The orchestra of rainfall had finally ceased.

It was time for him to leave. The ice cold winds turned his skin paler prompting him to seek warmth. By the way he walked and the way he stood it was as if he owned the city. It was his. His now abrupt walk grew faster as an oncoming car was speeding nearer and nearer. He outstretched his arm, hoping that it would stop. The car ignored him and as it fled the scene. He let out a sigh. He froze. 

Looking at the ground in dismay he wheels round and carries on his abrupt walk. His pace slows down in realisation that he could be stranded there for the night. He stops, right outside her flat.

Chills ran up her arms and tingled at her shoulder blades. The chill crept forward and terminated at her heart. The haunting agony of bruises that blemished her heart gently faded. She looked away; the pain that was once there was gone and had triggered the tears that started run down her cheek. As the tear drop fell onto her lips she smiled. It was as if stardust had fallen into her eyes as they started to sparkle uncontrollably.

He looked up to see where the faint crying was coming from. The stern expression that was pasted on his face disappeared. He bit his lip and formed a smile, when he saw her. He changed. It was like the mask he had been wearing had fallen and shattered on the pavement below. It was if the cloak hiding his identity had been torn off. The fog had been lifted and he could see only her. The same stardust dropped into his eyes as he became a new man and no longer a mystery.

The moment was broken by the sound of another speeding car. Tearing away his gaze from her, he again forced his arm out for the car to stop. The taxi stopped, screeching the brakes that made her look below once more. He said to the driver “Chelsea” and with the tone of his voice it was hard to believe he was from anywhere else. He swiftly opened the door suddenly a weak whisper ‘stop’ came from behind him.

She regretted it instantly; her pale hand covered her mouth in shock. He ran his hands through his thick black wavy hair and sighed. Reaching into his inside jacket pocket he took out a thin piece of card and walked up to the front door placing it inside the letter box. He raised his arm as if to wave goodbye to her but he realised she had gone.

Pacing down the stairs, creating loud thumps she awoke the whole flat making miniature quakes in the floorboards. She jumped the final 2 steps with excitement and ran to the door. She then snatched the card from the jaws of the letter box. In
the palm of her hand were the words,

‘Welcome to London’.

She laughed slightly. Without thinking she opened the door and ran. The cold hit her but she felt only a little because she was numb with unexplained joy. That was until she saw that the taxi had gone. He had gone. Disappointment and regret burst inside of her. Solid in the middle of the road, she became paralysed.

The rain once more started to fall. And the orchestra of the shower began playing a melody of melancholy once more. As the rain grew more intense, her hair started to stick to her face and the ink from the card ran through her fingers. She retreated back to the pavement and glared at the door. The place that was once full of stardust was now just as black as the night around her. She was just about to set foot inside when she heard,

“Hello”.

It was him. He never got in the taxi. He never ran away. She replied softly yet confidently, embarrassed yet so in love,

“Hi”.

Print

See History
  • April 5, 2016 - 3:41pm (Now Viewing)

Login or Signup to provide a comment.