Lustre – by Ian

I finally manage to move the tumblers in the elaborate lock and push the door open. The sight and smells before me are remarkable, the rumours I had heard do not do the room justice. Acrid smells assault my nose, faint traces of bitter substances play across my tongue and my eyes are startled by an array of colour and fantastic, unnameable objects. 

I am so in awe that I forget the door but a breeze running down the darkened alleyway behind me prompts me to shut the room away from prying eyes. There are no windows to the room but it is faintly lit by various sized bowls emanating a faint glow. There are enough scattered around the room to allow me to see the whole space. I slowly walk around marvelling at, touching and variously inhaling the contents of the rows of jars, vessels and implements that are stashed on shelves and various tables.

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Distance – by Ian

I adjust the bandana so it covers my nose and mouth as my horse strides across the border. The plaintive wail of a trumpet plays in my head as I watch the rising sun cast long, human like shadows of the cacti across the arid landscape. 

I know my quarry is out there somewhere. The money is good enough on this one to merit the risk of crossing into Mexico but I need to find him quickly and get back with my bounty.

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Equinox – by Ian

The Lonesome Outlaw dismounts and ties the reins around a large boulder. He sits with his back to the stone, legs pulled up to his chest. Taking the cheroot from his mouth he flicks it into the depths of the canyon and watches as it shoots up past his eyes on the hot stream of air rising from the valley floor. The light is starting to fade.

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For the Many – Ian A

As I turn into the corner the sleet blows directly into my face. The hood I am wearing for camouflage doubles as protection as I pull it further down. I notice that the last of the streetlights has given up the ghost so I tread carefully on the uneven pavement.

The flat is halfway along a neglected avenue which once had an air of victorian splendour. The communal door is unlocked so I step out of the street and rush up stairs to the first floor. Continue reading “For the Many – Ian A”

Remembering Too – Ian A

(This is a companion piece to Remembering – Part 2)

When I woke that morning the air was strange. I could sense it on the breeze that moved the curtains covering the open window of my bedroom. Looking out past the material I could see a thin trail of smoke rising into the sky from a site the other side of town. I closed the window, pulled on a dressing gown and went downstairs.

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