Man's Best FriendPaul shook the ashes off his eyelids as his unfinished cigarette hit the leg of the woman in the short skirt.Man's Best Friend6 months ago in Writing More Like This
“Sorry.” Paul waved his hand apologetically. The woman scurried away angrily, muttering the word ‘pervert’.
He got his key out and entered the small, claustrophobia-inducing space the manager called a room.
It’s been five days since Paul and Tal'shen escaped from Maya and her goons. All the Proxitol has left his system and he has never felt stronger. Amazed at how well he was handling ‘the situation’, Paul rationalized the nightmare by comparing it to an unthinkable disease like cancer. Onc
Lunacy UnfurledLunacy Unfurled by Tim Marquitz (firstname.lastname@example.org)Lunacy Unfurled7 months ago in Writing More Like This
Paul's stomach lurched. As if having a strange man's face in his lap wasn't enough to ruin the day, he had to contend with puke, too?
He wiped at it without thinking. The spew came away with a swipe. It was warm and moist and oozed along his fingers to pool in his palm. Tingles crept down his arm, a millipede of sensation setting the hairs to standing at the realization of what he'd done. He went to shake the vomit from his hand when a choir of whispers cluttered his head. Paul froze at the sound, his eyes drawn to the tiny starbursts that erupted across the yellowish bile. A word cleaved
THE STAINPaul had just arrived at the Hotel, his first of many stops in London to meet up with Business personnel. He had on his best 3 piece suit that was handed down from his great Great Grandfather. Paul had just discovered that the man that had the seizure on the train vomited on Paul's pants.... It wasn't really vomit, it looked as if Paul had gone to the restroom and leaked through his pants. The stain was about the size of a half dollar.THE STAIN7 months ago in Writing More Like This
Paul looked at his watch, he had 3 hours before his meeting, just long enough to clean his pants and get a bite to eat.
Paul called room service. Before he even heard a dial tone he heard a woman's voice
Strange Bites, Stranger Dreams"Doesn't that just take the biscuit?" Paul stripped his trousers off in the miniscule, private bathroom with a look of disgust and stuck them in the sink. He thought about the vomit stain again and shuddered. Paul quickly removed the rest of his clothes and stepped into the shower. He turned on the water, willing to endure the cold just to wash away the creepy, skin-crawling sensation he was feeling.Strange Bites, Stranger Dreams7 months ago in Writing More Like This
As the water warmed, Paul's agitation began to fade. He picked up the soap and began to wash. "Ow!" he exclaimed as he ran the washcloth across his thigh. "Something must've bit me," he thought as he prodded at the slight swelling that marked th
Chapter 1: Shout It OutChapter 1: Shout ItChapter 1: Shout It Out7 months ago in Writing More Like This
Pulling his trousers out of the washer for the third time,
Paul sighed with defeat at the sight of the spot. It was just vomit. How could
it withstand the pummeling of his landladyâs front-loader? He had picked up a
bottle of stain remover â" one whose catch phrase was seared into his brain as a
youth, a sign of misspent Saturdays. He had liked the idea that you could banish
a stain with your voice, if you could just muster enough anger. Staring at the
failed promise on the bottle, he screamed into the fabric,
âGO AWAY YOU GINGER FUCK.â
When Paul had firs
Chapter OnePaul changed quickly, exchanging one dark gray pant for another. Even after he had disposed of the offending garment, the smell hung in his nose. A slight acidic burn, tickling the edge of his consciousness.Chapter One7 months ago in Writing More Like This
He wanted to suck in the night. Dispel the lingering airs of vomit that tailed him. Paul wandered the streets of London. Familiar, but changed over the years. He smiled wryly, a grin wrought with memories.
Familiar but changed.
Paul paused before a street performer. One of many that dotted London, creating splashes of color.
A woman, dancing.
Glowing of youth.
Leaking it out of her skin.
She was alone, without the crowd
Chapter I: Maybe, it's a karma thingPaul wished he had something else to change into. But, since the trousers were irreplaceable at the moment, a lot of water and a bar of hotel soap would have to do. After much effort, the stain was gone in all but spirit, but it was the spirit that made the clothes feel dirty, ruined somehow. London had given Paul a sign, and not a hopeful one; ever since he walked away from a subway a feeling of unease had clung to his mind (but then, bad is how you feel when you're fucking useless).Chapter I: Maybe, it's a karma thing7 months ago in Writing More Like This
Still, Paul's appointment was an hour away, the stain was gone and maybe, just maybe, the situation was a karma thing – stumble into shit in the morning