London Streets: Night
Two 100-word stories inspired by photos from Terry Freedman
Silk Street
She is alone in the office at 8 pm again. It seems that everyone on Silk Street has gone home to their families except her.
Her boss is a lizard, always expecting her to work late, overwhelming her with impossible tasks, laying his reptilian hands on her.
She writes a note and lays it on the center of his fine Philippine mahogany desk. She walks into the break room, picks up a sharp knife, and stabs the note firmly onto his desktop.
She takes her coat from the hook and locks the door behind her for the very last time.
Barley Lane
Under the yellow glow of sodium streetlights, Barley Lane lies deserted, except for one misdirected car recalculating…recalculating…
Every night he walks to this street, watching for her, restless and hungry. He hides behind the hedges.
The 271 hisses to a stop, and she descends alone. As the bus pulls away, trailing grey exhaust, she knots her scarf a little tighter around her neck and walks toward the shrubbery. Suddenly, he steps out in front of her. She lets out a muffled shriek. “Hey! What the hell!”
“I’m sorry, that was really dumb.”
“You idiot. Let’s get home. It’s late.
Thank youTerry Freedmanfor letting me use your inspiring photos.
Terry writes Eclecticism: Reflections on literature, writing and life .
Great stories, Sharron! I especially love the Silk Street one :-)
Two happy endings that could have gone the other way. Love these, Sharron. So much with so few words.