tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1149217012399643733.post3773215479921288493..comments2023-12-06T00:48:23.734-08:00Comments on Daily Writing Practice: Thursday November 12th, 2009Marchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14952331166517430843noreply@blogger.comBlogger2125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1149217012399643733.post-24667855336358142722009-11-12T20:52:41.530-08:002009-11-12T20:52:41.530-08:00Tim Hortons is friggin' fantastic. I used to l...Tim Hortons is friggin' fantastic. I used to love those donuts. Can't really have them anymore, but still remember them fondly :)<br /><br />And you did a fantastic job with your version! I particularly liked the light/darkness aspect.Marchttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14952331166517430843noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1149217012399643733.post-33462685555153063152009-11-12T17:08:44.021-08:002009-11-12T17:08:44.021-08:00Sounds like you're not completely recovered th...Sounds like you're not completely recovered then. Let's hope you manage a full day tomorrow, or maybe just take it off and recover properly for next week :)<br /><br />I've had a read of your excerpt too; comments are on Protagonize.<br /><br />Fascinating little story going on here as well, really nice descriptions and ever so slightly strange. Well, I'll give it a go, writing from the perspective of your driver, but it may not be very good.<br />Oh, and I discovered Tim Hortons today, which appears to be a very Canadian thing. I liked the coffee and the doughnuts :)<br /><br />Heading home<br /><br />Five miles of dark roads, dark empty roads with nothing to break the monotony. Just a bleak empty landscape hidden by the darkness, and my thoughts to occupy me. Maybe this drive wasn't such a good idea after all.<br /><br />Then, up ahead, a light at last. I drove towards it, feeling the engine purr with a silky smoothness that's like fine chocolate sliding down your throat, a single square that tantalises your taste buds by its very transience, luscious and romantic and, at its heart, deeply bitter. As I drew close I could smell oil on the air, and then I could see the sign. It was a filling station.<br /><br />There was a guy in the office who looked to be content where he was, and I figured he probably wouldn't bother me. I sat there, my hands gripping the steering wheel, feeling its grip beneath my fingers like a rosary, just waiting in the light, listening to my heart beat and my blood roar in my ears.<br /><br />It was so nice to be out of the darkness. I felt like a man dying of thirst suddenly arriving at an oasis. It's not a lot, it won't last for very long, but you take what you can while you can. And sitting in the light was like drinking water: I felt for a while that I might just be able to get strong enough to carry on.<br /><br />I was wrong though, after a few minutes, as I was starting to get my strength back and could think about turning around and going back home, the guy in the office got himself up off his stool and came towards me, brandishing a rag. He said something to me, but I couldn't make his words out properly, so I just told him I was heading home. Or something like that, I couldn't hear what I said properly either. It worked, though, he walked away again, back to his office, saying nothing more.<br /><br />I sat in the light a little longer, pulling myself together, until it felt like the light wasn't doing me any good any more, and then I started the car back up, slipped her into gear, and pulled out of the garage. I hadn't lied, I was heading home. By the scenic route.Greghttps://www.blogger.com/profile/08503319830584828982noreply@blogger.com