Palm Reader (short, short story) P1A Story by C Peril- some words and stuff -
Gloria - palm reader - Apt 21 }20:15
"You can't ask me to read this hand!" "Why not?" "It's covered in blood!" "And that's exactly what I've come to you for." -- Gloria had a certain avian quality about her, a corvid like propensity to seek out shiny things. Her nest could be classified as either A) a tacky abomination, cluttered with shoddy miscellany and paraphernalia or B) an interesting, unique habitat - an eclectic assemblage of carefully curated oddities... bewildering and fascinating. This depends wholly on the perspective of the viewer, of course. Alex, a 19 year old man, paced around the room (to be more specific, a corner of it.) An adolescent stubble bristles up around his jaw, the promise of a beard to come... still slightly out of reach. The room smelt, to him at least, like the oppressive stink of those places which are seldom met with fresh air; the lingering souls of long dead cigarettes, the inky emissions of battered books and various liquor aromas mixed with Gloria's otherworldly lady-potions and lotions to form a nauseating blend capable of overwhelming the most oblivious olfactory observers. -- "Alex, whose blood is this?!" Her face - an awkward amalgam of penetrating wrinkles, canyons, speaking of the power of the passage of time and youthful, attentive, alert eyes, bulging out from the sunken sockets (meteor crater-esque) - was full of genuine alarm. -- A vinyl wobbled, as vinyls are known to do, drunk on the record player - singing an old and sombre tune: "Hold your heart, for me girl Gone, a not a long, will I be Don't be blue my darling, trueee
For even in my absence, I love youeee" Alex remembered that he loved Chet Baker. *[AWAIT P2]* © 2021 C Peril |
StatsAuthorC PerilGY, Humberside, United KingdomAboutCreeping quietly towards 30 years of age. Based in Nowheresville, England. Writer (if we're being liberal with the term). Reader. Hoper. Believer. Lover of music and LFC. more..Writing
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