tommycg95
December 20th, 2009, 03:51 AM
Now i know i'm not going to get a Pulitzer prize or anything but i just wrote one day in music of al places and ended up with this story. I hopw you like it. Its a bit long but i think you'll enjoy it. Please comment and make suggestions.
Because of a Storm
It's a dark and thunderous evening on the outskirts of London. All we can hear is the sound of the rain and the occasional thunder. However, if you listen closely there is a slight piano playing ever so gently far off through the rain and fog. This is not an average thing to hear on a busy street leaving London during rush hour, but is well appreciated. If you were to be walking down the street at this particular time you would hear this certain man playing the piano in his studio apartment. Up, on the third floor there sits John. He plays the piano in such a way it would be hard to explain. He sits right next to the window so he has a view of London, but on a day like this there is nothing but a grey fog surrounding the city. John's apartment is at peace though. He has the whole place to himself. Just him, his glass of wine, the blazing fire, and his piano to play of course.
Then, in all this peace we hear a knock at the door. John stands and ever so gracefully strolls to the door thinking nothing of the fearsome knock he just heard. He opens the door and to his surprise, he sees two strangers drenched by the outside rain and bringing it in to start their own little reservoir. One of the two strangers is a man, in his forties by the looks of it and dark messy hair. He was staring at the ground and would not look up. The other was a small girl. She looked to be about eight. She was cowering behind the man as if John was going to hurt her. Then, abruptly, the man looks up and barges through the door. “Today," the man says, “is just not my day!" He had a strong British accent and it was hard to understand him completely. John looked at him in confusion and shock. "Who are you and what are you doing in my apartment?" John said this with all the strength and force he could muster but the man seemed unphased. "Oh, Right. Where are my manners?" the man said with a laugh. "I am Mark Foranger and this here is my daughter, Elizabeth." That helped but it still didn't solve the problem. He goes on to say, "I was late to pick Elizabeth up from her school. Then, when I finally get to the school, on our way back home we got a flat tire. Of all times to get a flat tire! I had nowhere to go and I had to get my daughter out of the rain so we came here. And that’s how we found you." Then, right when John is about to tell him to leave a loud clap of thunder rattles the air and the lights go out. The whole apartment is dark except for the orange glow of the fire. "I guess now wouldn't be a good time to get your tire fixed?" says John sarcastically.
Once again through the silence a piercing knock at the door rattles John's senses. He once again opens the door. This time he finds the landlord with a troubled look on his face. "The powers out and the generators soaked. I called the maintenance crew but because of this storm they can't get here till tomorrow morning." Then the old man stumbles down the hallway to the next apartment and knocks again on their door to repeat the speech he gave John. John turns, shuts the door and looks directly at Mark and his daughter. "Well, I guess since you can't go anywhere and I can't do anything about it, you and your daughter can spend the night." Mark has a smile on his face, it's sort of creepy but John sees it as he's doing something nice for him and his daughter.
A couple hours later, after the traffic has calmed down and the lightning as slowed, it was quiet. The quiet that seems eerie, creepy, and yet calming. Mark and Elizabeth were on the couch next to the fire warming and drying their clothes. They were whispering to each other. We don't know what about but they were whispering and the Mark turns and looks John directly in the eyes. John all of a sudden had a shiver go up his spine and he got cold, extremely cold. But John turned and looked out the window in the kitchen and soon forgot all about Mark and Elizabeth. He was thinking about them though. He thinks the might steal something. He was running scenarios through his mind. He wanted to know if he could sleep without them in his sight at all times. He didn't have any reason to. So soon he came to the conclusion that he had nothing to fear. Besides what could Mark possibly do with his daughter right there? So off to his room he slumped. "Good Night Everyone." And with that John disappeared into his room, leaving Mark and his daughter to sleep by the fire on the large couch set up facing the fire.
Hours go by and it is almost midnight. The house is quiet and everyone is asleep. But the couch in front of the fire is empty. Elizabeth has moved to the floor but Mark is gone. He's in the kitchen rustling through the droors, looking for something. He looks panicked and he is acting frantic, yet he isn't making a sound. Then, in all the chaos, he stops. He has found what he is looking for. There in the pale grey light we can see it reflecting the light of its cold metal surface. Mark has found the Butchers knife. He stares at the knife and then turns to go towards the bedroom. He stops along the way to kiss his resting daughter on the cheek and then continues on his path.
He opens the door to John's bedroom, not a sound is made. He closes the curtains to the window overlooking the street outside and turns towards the bed. He pulls back the covers and with all his might he stabs. But wait! No scream no groan. Did he miss? No, John isn't there. Mark is stunned for a second. Without warning from behind the door John runs out and tackles Mark to the ground. He dropped the knife and it stumbles a few feet away. They both see this and fight for the weapon. John almost has it he can touch it he just can't get a hold of it because Mark is pulling him back. Then with the final ounce of strength Mark has in him he rolls John off of him grabs the knife and stabs him in the back. The fighting stops. There is silence. For an eerie moment Mark looks into Johns eyes. You can see the life fading from him ever so slowly. He wants to say something but can't. John is dead. The both lie there, together. Marks hands are bloody from the struggle, John is lifeless on the floor, and Elizabeth is wrapped in a blanket lying on the rug that is now hers.
The thunder came back with a revived force. The rain starts to comedown thicker now. Mark and Elizabeth have gone from what was John's apartment. Their car that used to be parked in the alley, hidden, is gone. And like everything else, their taillights dissolve in the down pour of rain, and they're gone forever. The lights in John's apartment turn back on and a spotlight shines on the empty black Steinway piano that is no longer used.
On a night like this, in the suburbs of London, a man was murder in his home...Because of a Storm.
The End
Because of a Storm
It's a dark and thunderous evening on the outskirts of London. All we can hear is the sound of the rain and the occasional thunder. However, if you listen closely there is a slight piano playing ever so gently far off through the rain and fog. This is not an average thing to hear on a busy street leaving London during rush hour, but is well appreciated. If you were to be walking down the street at this particular time you would hear this certain man playing the piano in his studio apartment. Up, on the third floor there sits John. He plays the piano in such a way it would be hard to explain. He sits right next to the window so he has a view of London, but on a day like this there is nothing but a grey fog surrounding the city. John's apartment is at peace though. He has the whole place to himself. Just him, his glass of wine, the blazing fire, and his piano to play of course.
Then, in all this peace we hear a knock at the door. John stands and ever so gracefully strolls to the door thinking nothing of the fearsome knock he just heard. He opens the door and to his surprise, he sees two strangers drenched by the outside rain and bringing it in to start their own little reservoir. One of the two strangers is a man, in his forties by the looks of it and dark messy hair. He was staring at the ground and would not look up. The other was a small girl. She looked to be about eight. She was cowering behind the man as if John was going to hurt her. Then, abruptly, the man looks up and barges through the door. “Today," the man says, “is just not my day!" He had a strong British accent and it was hard to understand him completely. John looked at him in confusion and shock. "Who are you and what are you doing in my apartment?" John said this with all the strength and force he could muster but the man seemed unphased. "Oh, Right. Where are my manners?" the man said with a laugh. "I am Mark Foranger and this here is my daughter, Elizabeth." That helped but it still didn't solve the problem. He goes on to say, "I was late to pick Elizabeth up from her school. Then, when I finally get to the school, on our way back home we got a flat tire. Of all times to get a flat tire! I had nowhere to go and I had to get my daughter out of the rain so we came here. And that’s how we found you." Then, right when John is about to tell him to leave a loud clap of thunder rattles the air and the lights go out. The whole apartment is dark except for the orange glow of the fire. "I guess now wouldn't be a good time to get your tire fixed?" says John sarcastically.
Once again through the silence a piercing knock at the door rattles John's senses. He once again opens the door. This time he finds the landlord with a troubled look on his face. "The powers out and the generators soaked. I called the maintenance crew but because of this storm they can't get here till tomorrow morning." Then the old man stumbles down the hallway to the next apartment and knocks again on their door to repeat the speech he gave John. John turns, shuts the door and looks directly at Mark and his daughter. "Well, I guess since you can't go anywhere and I can't do anything about it, you and your daughter can spend the night." Mark has a smile on his face, it's sort of creepy but John sees it as he's doing something nice for him and his daughter.
A couple hours later, after the traffic has calmed down and the lightning as slowed, it was quiet. The quiet that seems eerie, creepy, and yet calming. Mark and Elizabeth were on the couch next to the fire warming and drying their clothes. They were whispering to each other. We don't know what about but they were whispering and the Mark turns and looks John directly in the eyes. John all of a sudden had a shiver go up his spine and he got cold, extremely cold. But John turned and looked out the window in the kitchen and soon forgot all about Mark and Elizabeth. He was thinking about them though. He thinks the might steal something. He was running scenarios through his mind. He wanted to know if he could sleep without them in his sight at all times. He didn't have any reason to. So soon he came to the conclusion that he had nothing to fear. Besides what could Mark possibly do with his daughter right there? So off to his room he slumped. "Good Night Everyone." And with that John disappeared into his room, leaving Mark and his daughter to sleep by the fire on the large couch set up facing the fire.
Hours go by and it is almost midnight. The house is quiet and everyone is asleep. But the couch in front of the fire is empty. Elizabeth has moved to the floor but Mark is gone. He's in the kitchen rustling through the droors, looking for something. He looks panicked and he is acting frantic, yet he isn't making a sound. Then, in all the chaos, he stops. He has found what he is looking for. There in the pale grey light we can see it reflecting the light of its cold metal surface. Mark has found the Butchers knife. He stares at the knife and then turns to go towards the bedroom. He stops along the way to kiss his resting daughter on the cheek and then continues on his path.
He opens the door to John's bedroom, not a sound is made. He closes the curtains to the window overlooking the street outside and turns towards the bed. He pulls back the covers and with all his might he stabs. But wait! No scream no groan. Did he miss? No, John isn't there. Mark is stunned for a second. Without warning from behind the door John runs out and tackles Mark to the ground. He dropped the knife and it stumbles a few feet away. They both see this and fight for the weapon. John almost has it he can touch it he just can't get a hold of it because Mark is pulling him back. Then with the final ounce of strength Mark has in him he rolls John off of him grabs the knife and stabs him in the back. The fighting stops. There is silence. For an eerie moment Mark looks into Johns eyes. You can see the life fading from him ever so slowly. He wants to say something but can't. John is dead. The both lie there, together. Marks hands are bloody from the struggle, John is lifeless on the floor, and Elizabeth is wrapped in a blanket lying on the rug that is now hers.
The thunder came back with a revived force. The rain starts to comedown thicker now. Mark and Elizabeth have gone from what was John's apartment. Their car that used to be parked in the alley, hidden, is gone. And like everything else, their taillights dissolve in the down pour of rain, and they're gone forever. The lights in John's apartment turn back on and a spotlight shines on the empty black Steinway piano that is no longer used.
On a night like this, in the suburbs of London, a man was murder in his home...Because of a Storm.
The End