Vires acquirit eundo
What the hell? A surreal voice, reaching for him? To take him away? Was it imagination?
Startled, Dan quickly turned to face the intruder, a man approaching him in fast steps:
- Who... are you !!? - he screamed, in an anxious voice, extremely nervous and nauseous.
Dan choked, as he was still visibly disgusted.
- Oh! Forgive me, I didn't mean to scare no one, fellow. You alright? You seem like you saw a monster. - A brief pause. A bedazzled Dan barely made any gesture, standing there staring profoundly perplexed back at him, but the man resumed, unbothered - Name's Guaine, Gip Guaine. I had seen the bike and was thinking to myself how anyone would leave such a nice machine so strangely parked, and with the keys in the ignition above all else. Could have been someone's lucky day, I guess. Not that I would ever think in such a thing, of course. - the man explained in a somewhat casual, cadenced, rhythmic tone.
Dan was barely understanding the man, not because of Guaine's tendency to speak faster along his sentences, but because he wasn't listening to him at all. Such fright he had in himself.
The stranger, speaking so casually!
Suddenly, Dan recalled: he wasn't defenseless. He had a weapon. His handbag: it had fallen when Dan fainted, but its strap had still remained held to his left shoulder; as he was descending the emergency ladder, he tied the strap to his trousers' leather belt, so it wouldn't hinder his movements.
With surreptitious movements, he attempted to reach for his handbag, which was at his left side under his T-shirt. Dan's heart was pulsing untamed like a drum out of time; the horrid images, vivid and flashing through his eyes, and his mind.
And now this man. That stranger was oblivious that if he made any funny move, a very nervous, cracking Dan would immediately draw on him... with unknown consequences.
The man in front of him was basically of the same height as Dan, with a bit of a strong build and a sturdy torso, rough face lines, sharp witty eyes of small size, light brown hair shaved thin which ended in a curious small mullet behind a thick neck, and framed his rather round face. He was dressed with black jeans, dirty grey boots and a olive green waistcoat over a burnt orange T-shirt, a rather sweaty T-shirt.
Guaine, very much unaware of his interlocutor's state of mind, continued spouting explanations, leaning himself against the bike:
- I arrived a couple of minutes ago and I'm impressed that the village is as quiet as a tomb. Seems like there isn't much popular demand in here. - he chuckled - You know, my Chevrolet van's engine broke down from overheating, some two and a half miles [4 km] from this neighbourhood, stopped there, to the southeast of Coupland.
I'm fairly certain it was a coolant leakage, though. I'd to walk all the way through this heaven forsaken desert to reach for help here, and, now, that definitely wasn't the most fun I've ever had. I need a tow vehicle to go and pick up the van, bring it and probably replace the radiator and a head gasket. And I come here and there's nobody. Not a soul. And the lighting sure leaves something to be desired.
Finally he shut up, but long before he finished his discourse, Dan had had something of an inspiration. Gip's words, unintentionally, had the effect of calming Dan a bit; this was a man that seemingly had no idea of what was happening in his surroundings. His unwilling presence in the town was a hopeful sign. It was definitely better to face the unknown with someone's else company.
Dan was now ambivalent towards this stranger: should he trust him and tell him what was going on ? But, at the same time it was reassuring, the fact of not being alone in a desperate plight that he (they) was.
After a small hesitation, a relieved feeling made Dan make the decision: he was going to relay the events to the man, as abridged as he could.
- You're in more than you bargained for. The van is the least of your troubles.
-What do ya mean? Why I've the feeling that I don't wanna know?
And Dan began to relate the night's shocking incidents.
Startled, Dan quickly turned to face the intruder, a man approaching him in fast steps:
- Who... are you !!? - he screamed, in an anxious voice, extremely nervous and nauseous.
Dan choked, as he was still visibly disgusted.
- Oh! Forgive me, I didn't mean to scare no one, fellow. You alright? You seem like you saw a monster. - A brief pause. A bedazzled Dan barely made any gesture, standing there staring profoundly perplexed back at him, but the man resumed, unbothered - Name's Guaine, Gip Guaine. I had seen the bike and was thinking to myself how anyone would leave such a nice machine so strangely parked, and with the keys in the ignition above all else. Could have been someone's lucky day, I guess. Not that I would ever think in such a thing, of course. - the man explained in a somewhat casual, cadenced, rhythmic tone.
Dan was barely understanding the man, not because of Guaine's tendency to speak faster along his sentences, but because he wasn't listening to him at all. Such fright he had in himself.
The stranger, speaking so casually!
Suddenly, Dan recalled: he wasn't defenseless. He had a weapon. His handbag: it had fallen when Dan fainted, but its strap had still remained held to his left shoulder; as he was descending the emergency ladder, he tied the strap to his trousers' leather belt, so it wouldn't hinder his movements.
With surreptitious movements, he attempted to reach for his handbag, which was at his left side under his T-shirt. Dan's heart was pulsing untamed like a drum out of time; the horrid images, vivid and flashing through his eyes, and his mind.
And now this man. That stranger was oblivious that if he made any funny move, a very nervous, cracking Dan would immediately draw on him... with unknown consequences.
The man in front of him was basically of the same height as Dan, with a bit of a strong build and a sturdy torso, rough face lines, sharp witty eyes of small size, light brown hair shaved thin which ended in a curious small mullet behind a thick neck, and framed his rather round face. He was dressed with black jeans, dirty grey boots and a olive green waistcoat over a burnt orange T-shirt, a rather sweaty T-shirt.
Guaine, very much unaware of his interlocutor's state of mind, continued spouting explanations, leaning himself against the bike:
- I arrived a couple of minutes ago and I'm impressed that the village is as quiet as a tomb. Seems like there isn't much popular demand in here. - he chuckled - You know, my Chevrolet van's engine broke down from overheating, some two and a half miles [4 km] from this neighbourhood, stopped there, to the southeast of Coupland.
I'm fairly certain it was a coolant leakage, though. I'd to walk all the way through this heaven forsaken desert to reach for help here, and, now, that definitely wasn't the most fun I've ever had. I need a tow vehicle to go and pick up the van, bring it and probably replace the radiator and a head gasket. And I come here and there's nobody. Not a soul. And the lighting sure leaves something to be desired.
Finally he shut up, but long before he finished his discourse, Dan had had something of an inspiration. Gip's words, unintentionally, had the effect of calming Dan a bit; this was a man that seemingly had no idea of what was happening in his surroundings. His unwilling presence in the town was a hopeful sign. It was definitely better to face the unknown with someone's else company.
Dan was now ambivalent towards this stranger: should he trust him and tell him what was going on ? But, at the same time it was reassuring, the fact of not being alone in a desperate plight that he (they) was.
After a small hesitation, a relieved feeling made Dan make the decision: he was going to relay the events to the man, as abridged as he could.
- You're in more than you bargained for. The van is the least of your troubles.
-What do ya mean? Why I've the feeling that I don't wanna know?
And Dan began to relate the night's shocking incidents.
posted by tensayoki @ 02:07
