The Wet Dog – Chapter 3

CHALLENGE RESPONSE – FICTION

Chapter 3

The world shifted, and the fluttering wings stopped. I sat there in darkness, wondering where I had gone this time. I asked myself what was happening to me. It felt like my pen had become alive. Things that occupied my mind and found their way to the page had become real. The problem was I don’t remember writing anything. Yes, I sat at my desk and dipped my quill into the inkwell, but nothing else. Wait, I remember something. The inkwell howled before I started to travel, and my quill laughed. The blackness has begun to fade. My whereabouts are becoming more evident.

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I sat in a 24-hour diner, lost in the flow of writing the random thoughts that something come in solitude. Nothing more than notes from the other side to be strung together in undetermined moment in time. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee battled with the odor of the burnt pot. Out the window, I saw the remains of the day being swallowed by the night. I had an hour before I had to be on shift at the plant. Tonight, I changed from my usual order. Tonight, I wanted three fried turkey sandwiches with lettuce and tomato. I got two hard-boiled eggs for a snack.

The coffee was bitter, curiously strong, but superb. Then I noticed her approaching—a woman who had no business being here. She seemed out of place but at home. I couldn’t figure out why I wanted, nay needed, to talk to her. My desperation dried out my mouth. I parted my lips to speak, but it was futile.

She was 40-ish, but she didn’t appear to be that old, but her eyes told another story. She was wearing a black tank top with a fantastic figure. Her black hair was pulled into a ponytail with a long braid over the left shoulder. Her eyes were brown hypnotic pools. Her complexion was brown-skinned and smooth. Her expression was seductive, with a slight smile. Her gaze held mine, but I didn’t want to be that guy. You know that guy who only views women in a certain way? She slid into my booth. I wondered what she wanted. Women like her didn’t talk to guys who looked like me.  

“Do you believe in fate?” she asked

“What?” I looked baffled.

“Fate? Love at first sight? Star-crossed Lovers?” she asked.

She sat patiently awaiting my answer. I looked around, waiting for the practical jokester to jump out from some corner and say gotcha. I sat soundless, waiting for the embarrassment, the humiliation, and the pointless beginning of ridicule necessary for whatever was going to happen next. Whichever it was going to be I wasn’t in the mood to entertain her nonsense. She seemed unphased by my reluctance to speak.

“It’s like one of those scenes in old movies. You know, the musicals or the black and white ones where the woman lifts one of her legs when she kisses her Prince Charming.” She explained.  

“I can’t believe I found you. I thought I found you a year ago. He was practically your doppelganger. But one look into his eyes, and I knew it wasn’t you. They were lifeless and cold, not like yours, inviting and beautiful.” She continued.

She touched my hand, and the world began to shift. She grabbed my hand with a tight grip.

“Where do you think you’re going?” She asked.

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This story comes in fits and starts. Each time I decide to sit down and write a chapter it’s something different from the last. It’s an interesting journey not knowing where I’m going with a story. It’s been a longtime since I’ve written like this. A longtime since allowed the story to speak through instead insisting the story is going to one way or another. Though, this story is completely stream of consciousness, I have been inspired by the following challenges.

• Ragtag Daily Prompt – I used the prompts from last Sunday to today. Thank you, guys, for the inspiring words.
• Stream of Consciousness Saturday – hosted by Linda Hill. I truly enjoy your challenges even I don’t always get a chance to participate.