Writing in Public, Story 6, Scene 17


It was like time had gone into slow motion.  Brian reached across the front seat.  His fingers fumbled at the lock.

He might have said something.

Shimmering light drew Nikki’s gaze.  Like a rainbow that had been scrunched.

Light shot from her house, and the other six houses, seven beams that intersected in the middle of the street.

Where they intersected, an irregular shape formed.  It glowed yellow, but red and black floated in it.  She could see the street through it.

And something else.

Foulness rose in her throat.

Another…something was coming visible inside the shape.

She stared.   Tried to make sense of it.  Failed.

It was silver.  Geometric shapes.  Like a child had stacked blocks in a messy pile.

Music thundered in her ears.

It wandered, as if the player, was trying to figure out what he was playing.  But there was desperation to it as well.

This wasn’t supposed to be.

Nikki didn’t know how she knew that, but she knew it as surely as she knew the fingers on her hand.

The music tugged her along.

Chaos was around her.  Notes crashing into each other.  Others broken.  Damaged.

She felt the neglect of the houses…it was a sharp pinprick of pain in her throat.  A parade of owners.  Some respectful, some not caring, some angry.

The music stuttered.

Something reached for her.