Geiger Nelson II (5)

Geiger Nelson II (5)

    Cabin 1 was nestled in the middle of a forest of yellows and reds and browns and the smell of drying leaves so strong Geiger could almost hear the sound of them crunching underfoot, although not a single one had dropped yet.  The quiet of the Woods was broken only by the sound of birds tweeting and squirrels clawing up trees. Every so often a breeze would blow in and rustle the leaves on the trees, not quite strong enough to knock them from the branches that claimed them. 

    Geiger opened the station wagon's trunk and pulled out his suitcase, toiletry bag, and cooler of food and beverage. He closed the trunk lid and managed to carry all the luggage up to the cabin porch in one trip. He went into his pocket, retrieved the cabin key, and let himself into his new home away from home. 

    The place was cozy and quaint -small, in other words, but pleasantly so. There were only four rooms: a living room with a couch, desk-and-chair, and coffee table, a kitchen with all the necessaries, a bathroom with the same, and a bedroom with a single bed and dresser. So, yeah, it was small, but Geiger wasn't planning on throwing a party. He was here to write and, proven in the past, he only really needed a place to sit, a cooler, and a john. This was just perfect.

    After about twenty minutes, Cabin 1 had transformed from a mere cottage into a writer's cottage. The sheets were on the bed, the food and beverage in the fridge, and a radio on top of the coffee table in the living room. The radio on and playing, Geiger sat at the desk in the living room in front of his laptop, staring at the only bit of writing he had on his new book: "A silence so perfect, it kills." It had the workings of either a mystery or horror, both of which he had dabbled into in the past with success (The Third Clue by Geiger H. Nelson and Bloody Holiday by Geiger H. Nelson had both gotten on the bestseller list in the past. Not first, mind you, but third or fourth, which was just fine for a, then, young writer from Des Moines, IA).

    The radio on the coffee table spit out a new hit, so either something about ho's or cutting one's self. Geiger tipped his chair back onto two legs and fiddled with the channel dial until he found a hit from about thirty years ago about  a guy trying to win a gal's heart. He sighed with happiness and tipped his chair back onto all four legs.

    The six words on the computer screen seemed to mocking him, daring him type more. "Go ahead, we're lonely over here... Oh what's that? Don't got anything? Haha... jerk." Of course, it always started out this way, didn't it? And then, after a day or two of crap starts and characters, something always clicked and Geiger would be tapping away at the keyboard, churning out pages and pages of something someone would read.

    For now though, he was deadlocked with those six words, afraid to take anything away and equally afraid to add another letter. He stood up and walked into the kitchen, returning with a can of Rowdy Rooster in hand. He cracked open the beer, took a sip, and looked back at the computer screen. He'd sit here, engaging those words in a staring contest until something came to him. Behind him, the radio played on.

Reviews

[Fallacy Pharmacy]

"a new hit, so either something about ho's or cutting one's self" - you just perfectly described what the mainstream music is these days *sigh*

I have a feeling that all of these characters might be joined in a one gruesome event sometime later... Am I right? Anyway, I love this! ^^