100 Words a Day 1269

The road wound through the mountain like a ribbon, following the landscape’s natural curves and revealing massive, tranquil beauty around every bend. Trees encroached on one side, making a fiery half-arch with their fall colors. The cracked windows brought us those smells so unfamiliar to the city: fresh air, trees, and the occasional whiff of horse. It was as though other people were absent from the world.

John Denver faded; I turned to my wife; she rolled her eyes. The song was already playing again, and we launched into the eerie single-voice harmony that only married couples seem to achieve.

100 Words a Day 1268

The danger of the hibernal forest wasn’t a predator stalking through the snow. Nor was it a fast-moving stream, or sudden forest fire. It was stagnation. No great bear or silent pack of wolves would kill you. Your inability to get food or escape would be sufficient. The people living at the perimeter of the forest, because no one lived in it, claimed that there was a malevolent intelligence to the place that did its best to first draw travelers onto the winding paths between the soft pines and then lure the deeper into the forest to freeze to death.

100 Words a Day 1267

“Oh my god,” she groaned to herself. “Why won’t he just shut up already?”

There had been a tickle in the back of her mind when her friend had suggested setting her up on a blind date, but she’d ignored it.

Things had started off alright: some casual getting-to-know-you discussion. But he’d slowly started to squeeze her out of the conversation. His presence seemed to fill the table completely. At was stifling even. It was as though he was some sort of talking python that crushed his victims until they couldn’t speak and then forced them to listen to him.

100 Words a Day 1266

His face was the color of dusty shadow, touched above each eye with a slash of white. Scars crisscrossed his dark face and bald head. One on his cheek pulled the edge of his lip into half an unsettling smile. He wore an unremarkable traveler’s outfit that hung down in such a way as to hide the man beneath. Wherever he walked, be it over gravel or up old stairs, his footsteps never seemed to make a sound. He also had a reputation for materializing out of shadows. His response to people mentioning this was a laugh and a wave.

100 Words a Day 1265

Jal saw his back in his mother’s old mirror. He yanked his shirt up over the splotch. It was growing. A chill tickled his mind, but wasn’t sure if it was the curse or just his imagination. It didn’t itch or burn. It just sat there, silently. He had always assumed it would do something. It turned out it was waiting.

It was waiting for him to go to sleep. And to dream. There it did itch and burn. It whispered to him, all the horrible things it would do once it had consumed his being and stolen his identity.

100 Words a Day 1264

They approached the old man struggling with an upturned cart in the center of the road. He looked up, face red and sweaty. When he realized who stood before him he threw himself to the ground.

“10,000 apologies young masters. I will have this offensive cart uprighted and out of your way presently. I only await your permission to continue.”

The young woman lifted her hand and the old man stood by putting one foot under him, then placing a hand on his knee, using that hand and the one hand on the ground to push himself to his feet.

100 Words a Day 1263

It was a dark and misty morning, the kind that’d be called warm in the winter and cool in the summer. All the cars on the street were covered in dew, and inside they were just warm enough to be comfortable.  It was as if the world was still in bed.

The stillness was broken by a car door opening. It was a compact, sensible car, only a few years old. The man who opened the door was unremarkable for the neighborhood; he lived alone; he had a college degree; he owned a car that he primarily used for commuting.