The cherry was as sour as Levon’s mood. His mouth welled with juice as he leant against the rusted hulk of his car, his breath billowing in frozen clouds.
The sun was just creeping above the frosted horizon, slowly revealing the pitch-black earth of the fields. Levon remembered days when he would sit with his father and watch the sun rise. Such innocent days when the cherries were still sweet. So long ago.
The trunk of the car rattled and shook. Levon slashed his foot against the metal, barking at the girl to keep quiet.
(c) Tim Austin. Promo image by Jake Malera via Unsplash.
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Tomorrow’s story: Stretched.
His heart racing, Philip pressed his ear against the wood. The sob came again: aching and abandoned. In the dark of the alleyway Philip trembled, his blood pulsing in his ears as a man with the crowbar looked on. “Move along, there’s nothing to see.” Still the blood pumped loud, Philip’s heart thundering. Another sob whispered at the wood, a scream following, trapped within. “I said move along.” There was a slap of metal against flesh. Philip’s tear-stained eyes closed tight, his warrant card clattering to the floor. Slowly, he turned and stepped away.
(c) Tim Austin 2016
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I’m looking for awesome words to write stories on – tweet them using the hashtag #onewordonestory and I’ll credit you with the inspiration!