After three years of intense focus on therapy and personal growth, I'm finally hitting the keys again and will be jumping into NaNoWriMo on November 1st, 2016. Stay tuned for updates!

Tuesday 11 December 2012

Little Girl Jean and the Extraordinary Mr. Cartwright

Jean Albion is a journalist; at least she hopes to be.  Currently, she works as a copywriter for the local newspaper and lives with he Aunt Marbie in her old row house in the wealthy part of town.  Jean was orphaned at 12 years old and spent most of her life in boarding school without any connection to friends or relatives.  One night, at a fundraising gala, Jean bumps into Mr. Renald Cartwright; a playboy, billionaire, CEO, and man of mystery.  No one knows much about Cartwright, except that everyone wants to be associated with him.  After a brief encounter where Cartwright shuns her, Jean is invited to meet him at his office.  Her journalistic senses intrigued; she attends, only to begin a journey into the depths of a world that few people are privileged to know...


There wasn't a screech as the car spun out, sliding horizontally down the road, still speeding toward the lamppost.   The metal crunch as the car encompassed the pole was eerily surreal on the damp and foggy winter’s eve.  Slush lined the streets making them a hazard for anyone who ventured out and the air was thick with a hazy rain that shone under the streetlights.  The sound from the impact echoed in the distance and seemed far off.
All else was quiet on the street.  One man stood outside of a tenement building smoking a cigarette.  The sky was black and seemed to suck the light from sidewalks and doorways of the buildings.  There would have been a full moon, but the clouds had swallowed it whole a few hours earlier.  A few dim lights shone from windows, but were slowly, one by one, enveloped by the dark sky.
The lights on the car, now hugging one of the few lampstands that littered the side of the road, flickered.  The only sound now, was the slow trickle of liquid running into the sewers from the gutters on the street.  The sludge slowing melting away.  The man flicks the butt of his cigarette to the street and disappears into the fold of darkness.  The cigarette sizzles as it hits the ground.  The little red ember pulsing as it burns the last remains of the tobacco, gasping, like it is trying to draw a few final breaths before fading out of the world.
The two occupants of the car sit motionless in their seats.  Nothing stirs.  The car lights finally die.  The cigarette emits a trail of smoke and then that too dissipates.  A veil of darkness and silence once again shrouds the quiet street.  A slow trickle.  Slush and haze.

No comments:

Post a Comment