I’ve been quiet again for a few days and not got round to checking the blogosphere out. My wife had booked for us to go up to a place called Lochinver for a few nights to meet up with friends. It was a beautiful place, and a short drive from where we stayed was a stunning white sand beach with crystal clear blue sea. Most annoyingly my camera decided to F*****G break on me so I’ve got to wait to get some photos from my friend. The following photo I found on the Internet and a few beers were drank on those rocks!
Anyway, in between getting back from Manchester and then driving up to Lochinver, I managed to get half an hour to write something for The Clarity Of Night contest. I literally wrote it in half an hour and obviously failed in getting into the “forties club”, but hey ho, it’s not the end of the world. If I’d given myself more time who knows? The story is very tongue-in-cheek and you can read it below.
The Colour Of Fear.
The drill hovered above my face, its noise unpleasant on my ears. I looked into the eyes behind the glasses and feared for my life. A mask covered the lower half of the face, making the eyes seem more penetrating and manic. I focused again on the drill, concentrating on the tip that was spinning ferociously as it was moved closer to my face. My hands clutched the chair arms, knuckles turning white as I gripped tighter and tighter. I looked at the eyes again, the surrounding wrinkles more pronounced.
He’s laughing behind that mask.
I tried to move, forcing my head into the back of the chair, the muscles in my neck aching as I tried to move my head further away. Strong hands pushed at my shoulders, holding me down.
The drill was getting closer and I looked at the eyes again. There was frustration etched around them now, and the eyebrows were furrowed. It was then that I saw the two round jewels. In the reflection of the glasses, the bluest sapphires stared back at me. If fear had a colour, then it would be sapphire blue.
That drill is going no where near my eyes, you bastard.
I pushed again, my head thrashing, but the hands on my shoulders pushed back, just as hard. Instantly the drill was moved away from my face, its noise fading to nothing.
“Mrs Robinson, if you continue to act this way, your tooth is going to get worse.”
You know the drill…
I’m still pissed off about my camera!!!