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02-18-2012, 03:40 PM
Alright. So first off, I'm not really happy with the way the story plays out right now (even if I disregard the fact that I had to cut it short to stay inside the 1000 word limit. In fact, I currently have exactly 1000 words.) and you can expect a big overhaul if I get the chance for it. In the meantime, this is the preliminary version:
A small diner, somewhere in a village just as small of which you probably never have heard. Sordid, soiled. On the first sight it wasn't a place where you would want to pass your evenings, but in a village like this, right in the middle of nowhere, venues for a drink and a convivial conversation were far and in between.
The room was but dimly lit by a single light bulb. It was well past midnight and all customers but one had left. The run-down room always had a slightly eerie feel to it when the last windows down the street turned black, but tonight particularly so. At least, that's how she felt. "She", in this case, was Maria, the woman owning the little diner who was now mindlessly watching the man of whom the room's population was comprised.
She had seen him before, several times actually and could swear that she had felt his presence on many days when his very appearance escaped her vision. He was now sitting at a table in the corner of the room, a glass and a bottle of scotch in front of him. Out of all the times having seen him, she could not recall a scene even slightly different from this one. With an expression that could very well be described as non-existent he was staring out of the window just as mindlessly as she was staring at him.
Suddenly, he turned his head and looked back at her. Those piercing grey eyes did not seem to notice her at all, but she felt caught nonetheless. She turned her eyes away from him and pretended paying attention to the glasses in front of her, then reconsidered and approached the man who had already resumed his business of staring out of the window.
"Excuse me, sir..." she started, but her voice faded as he turned his head towards her, revealing a scar going from his right corner of the mouth all the way towards his ear.
"Yes?" His voice was firm, yet low and as devoid as his expression.
"I'm... I couldn't help but wonder... Why do you come here again and again just to stare out of the window?"
"Why is a tricky question. Who knows? I, for one, don't. Perhaps I am just waiting. Or perhaps I am not." He seemed to be weighting the two possibilities in his mind. Maria was feeling more and more uncomfortable as she stood next to him.
"I guess that is a riddle only time can solve.", he said at last. "But pray sit down."
Relieved, she did as he had said. She carefully studied his face, trying to grasp a glimpse of the mind that was behind those grey curtains. But time and time again, her view would turn back to the scar that dominated the right half of his face. Even though that part had always been turned towards the wall, she now wondered how she could have missed it for that long a time.
"Don't mind the scar. It's just a relict of a former time."
Maria's face showed her confusion, but the man didn't make any attempt to go on with his remark.
"But as I said, don't mind it. Actually, don't mind me at all. Instead, what about you?"
"Me?"
"Yes. How comes you come here every day and every night, which appears to be little different from what I am doing."
"I...", she stopped, startled by the question. "I guess I just like being here with all those other people I've known since my childhood. And, you know, where should they all meet, if not here? They need this place, they really do."
He had been carefully examining the glass in front of him, but now his view shifted back towards her. For the first time she believed having seen some sort of expression on his face, but she couldn't point her finger on what it was.
"You.."
Suddenly, the sound of squeaking tires broke the silence of the night that had hitherto engulfed them. She rapidly turned around to see the source of the noise. Right in front of the diner were three cars, with people stepping out of them. It was too dark outside to see their faces, but Maria did recognize something metallic in their hands. 'Guns' shot into her head.
"Down!", she screamed, dragging the man down to the floor at the very moment in which the windows of the diner burst. Splinters of glass rained down their backs. Terrified, she turned towards the man. To her surprise, he looked thoughtful much rather than frightened. He had opened his jacket, but whatever he hoped to find, it wasn't there. He sighed, but the sound did not give her the impression of sadness.
"What's your name?", he asked.
Maria was puzzled. Why would he care for her name in a situation as dangerous as this one?
"Maria.", she replied at last. The man nodded, seemingly relieved. There was a spark in his eye, as if he had recognized something in her face. He made a sign indicating to her that she should stay where she was. Before she could reply, he had already pushed open the door and ran off into the night.
One of the men shouted a commando and they redirected their fire into the direction he had disappeared. Apparently they missed him as the man screamed another commando, causing the others to run after the missing person. It was an uneven chase and the man must have known it.
Maria listened to the receding footsteps and motor sounds, still curled up below the table. It was that exact position in which the villagers found her later that night. There were no traces of the men to be found. Only the shattered glass at the diner's front bore witness of what had happened that night.
The room was but dimly lit by a single light bulb. It was well past midnight and all customers but one had left. The run-down room always had a slightly eerie feel to it when the last windows down the street turned black, but tonight particularly so. At least, that's how she felt. "She", in this case, was Maria, the woman owning the little diner who was now mindlessly watching the man of whom the room's population was comprised.
She had seen him before, several times actually and could swear that she had felt his presence on many days when his very appearance escaped her vision. He was now sitting at a table in the corner of the room, a glass and a bottle of scotch in front of him. Out of all the times having seen him, she could not recall a scene even slightly different from this one. With an expression that could very well be described as non-existent he was staring out of the window just as mindlessly as she was staring at him.
Suddenly, he turned his head and looked back at her. Those piercing grey eyes did not seem to notice her at all, but she felt caught nonetheless. She turned her eyes away from him and pretended paying attention to the glasses in front of her, then reconsidered and approached the man who had already resumed his business of staring out of the window.
"Excuse me, sir..." she started, but her voice faded as he turned his head towards her, revealing a scar going from his right corner of the mouth all the way towards his ear.
"Yes?" His voice was firm, yet low and as devoid as his expression.
"I'm... I couldn't help but wonder... Why do you come here again and again just to stare out of the window?"
"Why is a tricky question. Who knows? I, for one, don't. Perhaps I am just waiting. Or perhaps I am not." He seemed to be weighting the two possibilities in his mind. Maria was feeling more and more uncomfortable as she stood next to him.
"I guess that is a riddle only time can solve.", he said at last. "But pray sit down."
Relieved, she did as he had said. She carefully studied his face, trying to grasp a glimpse of the mind that was behind those grey curtains. But time and time again, her view would turn back to the scar that dominated the right half of his face. Even though that part had always been turned towards the wall, she now wondered how she could have missed it for that long a time.
"Don't mind the scar. It's just a relict of a former time."
Maria's face showed her confusion, but the man didn't make any attempt to go on with his remark.
"But as I said, don't mind it. Actually, don't mind me at all. Instead, what about you?"
"Me?"
"Yes. How comes you come here every day and every night, which appears to be little different from what I am doing."
"I...", she stopped, startled by the question. "I guess I just like being here with all those other people I've known since my childhood. And, you know, where should they all meet, if not here? They need this place, they really do."
He had been carefully examining the glass in front of him, but now his view shifted back towards her. For the first time she believed having seen some sort of expression on his face, but she couldn't point her finger on what it was.
"You.."
Suddenly, the sound of squeaking tires broke the silence of the night that had hitherto engulfed them. She rapidly turned around to see the source of the noise. Right in front of the diner were three cars, with people stepping out of them. It was too dark outside to see their faces, but Maria did recognize something metallic in their hands. 'Guns' shot into her head.
"Down!", she screamed, dragging the man down to the floor at the very moment in which the windows of the diner burst. Splinters of glass rained down their backs. Terrified, she turned towards the man. To her surprise, he looked thoughtful much rather than frightened. He had opened his jacket, but whatever he hoped to find, it wasn't there. He sighed, but the sound did not give her the impression of sadness.
"What's your name?", he asked.
Maria was puzzled. Why would he care for her name in a situation as dangerous as this one?
"Maria.", she replied at last. The man nodded, seemingly relieved. There was a spark in his eye, as if he had recognized something in her face. He made a sign indicating to her that she should stay where she was. Before she could reply, he had already pushed open the door and ran off into the night.
One of the men shouted a commando and they redirected their fire into the direction he had disappeared. Apparently they missed him as the man screamed another commando, causing the others to run after the missing person. It was an uneven chase and the man must have known it.
Maria listened to the receding footsteps and motor sounds, still curled up below the table. It was that exact position in which the villagers found her later that night. There were no traces of the men to be found. Only the shattered glass at the diner's front bore witness of what had happened that night.