Sunday, February 27, 2005
:::[About A Narrow Escape]:::
I wrote "A Narrow Escape" while sitting on the second floor of the huge three story Barnes and Noble at the Farmer's Market in LA. I was listening to Thievery Corporation's "Warning Shots" at a table right beside a row of comfy, occupied chairs next to the windows (and the power outlets). The chorus was repeating: "One, and in comes the Two to the Three, and One, and in comes the Two to the Three..." when a couple of blond joggers bustled into the lobby below me.
My intention is for this blog to be a place where you can stop by regularly to get a small cup of fiction. It won't usually be a whole story - just a little something poured from my imagination and mixed with a dash of my surroundings at the time. Think of them as espresso shots of other worlds.
posted by D @ 2:54 PM
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Saturday, February 26, 2005
:::A Narrow Escape:::
Everything happens in beats.
One: two girls in black jogging outfits step onto the escalator that runs up through the open center of the building. Two: a woman sitting facing the window on the third floor stiffens and raises her head without turning to look at the escalator behind her. Three: the two joggers make small adjustments to the music players strapped to their arms. They turn in place as the escalator rises, searching.
One: the woman at the window hunches over the computer in her lap, tapping furiously. Two: the escalator reaches the third floor. The two joggers separate, taking opposite paths around the ring towards the woman. Three: the woman hits enter one last time, then rises gingerly, closing the laptop.
One: the two joggers close the distance in powerful, athletic strides, stopping ten feet from either side of her. Two: the woman turns and walks slowly to the railing of the balcony. She stops, leaning against it. Three: the joggers reach up and press a button on their music players. In the space between them, a thrumming sound like a base guitar string can just be heard.
One: the woman goes limp, falling forward almost gracefully over the railing. Two: the joggers rush forward. Someone at a table says, "Oh my God!" Three: the woman drops fast. A dozen feet away from the hard tile of the ground floor, she begins to slow until she is floating down the last yard.
One: the joggers frown then turn, running back around the ring of the second floor for the down escalator. Two: the woman picks herself up off the floor and pushes through the doors. Three: the doors close behind her, with a clap, cutting off the view of the gawking crowd.
posted by D @ 8:10 PM
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