The Cold
Tavern
A list of things that were currently going wrong were bring written down mentally in his head, a short list forming: His car's engine had stalled and died, the cell phone had no reception, it was the middle of winter, and white flakes were raining down from the heavens.
He had to walk to find shelter and help. A jacket adorned his torso and jeans adorned his lower half, sneakers accompanying them ensemble. His hands were jammed into the pockets of the jacket as he trudged through the ice ridden road, the snowflakes getting caught in his short, dark blonde hair.
The town his car decided to sputter and die in was a ghost town. Not a living soul in sight. Half of the buildings were boarded up, the other half notifying the public that they were closed for the night.
Cold wind blew down the street, attacking his lone figure. He winced, trying to hold back a shiver as the wind cut through his jacket as if he were walking stark naked in the middle of winter on a dare. His breath furled out before him as he started shaking, the cold finally starting to get to him.
The blonde continued looking in the buildings he past, also looking ahead for any form of light. Any form of shelter would be good to him. He needed a phone to call a tow truck on his dead car. The snow was ceasing to fall, and he was grateful. His head was wet from the snowflakes lodged in the spikes of hair he had arranged earlier that day.
As friendly with him that it was, the wind wasn't helping either. It would blow whispers of promises it couldn't keep in this weather. Promises of a cool breeze on a hot summer day. That day was as near as the flicker of light ahead, which was very distant.
Wait. Light? He looked ahead, noticing the small flicker. It seemed miles away, as tiny as a star would look when stargazing. His brain signaled his legs to move, walk towards the light. The command was processed and accepted, for he moved with the grace of a zombie, his legs numb from the drop in temperature. The movement got easier as he moved faster towards the light, blood flowing in his legs, giving them incentive to move.
The ghost of a light was getting bigger, the orb bobbing in the wind. Once he got close enough, he found it was a lantern outside of an old tavern. The tavern was crowded, and he could hear music coming from within it. Why couldn't he hear this before? his ears must've not been listening well enough.
The stairs were creaky under his weight, and he hopped up them quickly, wanting to get inside, the promise of warmth and a phone a knob turn away. The brass knob turned for him before he could reach it, someone opening it or him, or to leave, he didn't care. The group of people leaving nodded at him, their eyes jolly and their cheeks red with drunkenness.
Reita didn't care. He marched through the open door, making a beeline for the phone. His car needed to be taken care of before he forgot. he would always lose his train of thought if focused on something for too long.
He picked up the phone and dialed.
He had to walk to find shelter and help. A jacket adorned his torso and jeans adorned his lower half, sneakers accompanying them ensemble. His hands were jammed into the pockets of the jacket as he trudged through the ice ridden road, the snowflakes getting caught in his short, dark blonde hair.
The town his car decided to sputter and die in was a ghost town. Not a living soul in sight. Half of the buildings were boarded up, the other half notifying the public that they were closed for the night.
Cold wind blew down the street, attacking his lone figure. He winced, trying to hold back a shiver as the wind cut through his jacket as if he were walking stark naked in the middle of winter on a dare. His breath furled out before him as he started shaking, the cold finally starting to get to him.
The blonde continued looking in the buildings he past, also looking ahead for any form of light. Any form of shelter would be good to him. He needed a phone to call a tow truck on his dead car. The snow was ceasing to fall, and he was grateful. His head was wet from the snowflakes lodged in the spikes of hair he had arranged earlier that day.
As friendly with him that it was, the wind wasn't helping either. It would blow whispers of promises it couldn't keep in this weather. Promises of a cool breeze on a hot summer day. That day was as near as the flicker of light ahead, which was very distant.
Wait. Light? He looked ahead, noticing the small flicker. It seemed miles away, as tiny as a star would look when stargazing. His brain signaled his legs to move, walk towards the light. The command was processed and accepted, for he moved with the grace of a zombie, his legs numb from the drop in temperature. The movement got easier as he moved faster towards the light, blood flowing in his legs, giving them incentive to move.
The ghost of a light was getting bigger, the orb bobbing in the wind. Once he got close enough, he found it was a lantern outside of an old tavern. The tavern was crowded, and he could hear music coming from within it. Why couldn't he hear this before? his ears must've not been listening well enough.
The stairs were creaky under his weight, and he hopped up them quickly, wanting to get inside, the promise of warmth and a phone a knob turn away. The brass knob turned for him before he could reach it, someone opening it or him, or to leave, he didn't care. The group of people leaving nodded at him, their eyes jolly and their cheeks red with drunkenness.
Reita didn't care. He marched through the open door, making a beeline for the phone. His car needed to be taken care of before he forgot. he would always lose his train of thought if focused on something for too long.
He picked up the phone and dialed.
♠ ♠ ♠
567 words.