Every Wednesday from now until the end of the world, or the blog, I’m going to post a random bit of writing: a rhyme, something from an old folder or a work in progress, or if all else fails whatever random thing I scribbled down during the free-write warm up of my Tuesday Night Writers Club.
‘Tis the season of either dewy-eyed generosity or blind, filthy greed, depending on your level of cynicism (and, if you’re mired in the past, maybe there’s a minor religious aspect to it too).
My ongoing gift to you: second in a series of five drabbles – 100 word “stories” – which in this case will add up to so much more…
ACTIONS SPEAK LOUDER
“It’s… it’s you.” Felix Jones drops his cigar. “Impossible!”
I shake my head, filth trickling through the creases of my smile.
“Listen,” he babbles, “maybe we can make a deal…”
I wag my finger, enjoying the moment.
He backs away as I creep forward, he screams until my hands choke it off. His eyes cast desperately around his luxurious apartments for something to save him, filled as it is with everything a man could desire.
Ah, the irony: when you’re a mime, NOTHING can save you.
Except, Felix Jones isn’t The Mime any more.