#faulk:start

[dobits]

      “You know,” Rome murmurs through a drag, “I haven’t had a cigarette in somethin’ like seventy-five years.” It’s this town, she’s decided. Brings back all the old, nasty habits. Her sigh is soaked in smoke. The pack of cigarettes is proffered. “Glutton for punishment?”

[smallgcds-blog]

“would you look at that. time’s stopped.” jane stood, tapping on the face of the wall clock as if that might get the second hand moving again. it did not. she began running through all the repairmen she knew. most of them were dead. most of them had not had the fortune (or misfortune, depending on how you looked at it) to come back. “how thematically appropriate,” she added under her breath, and then, more audibly: “do people still bother repairing clocks?”

[ckalliope-blog]

“do you know where i can find the public library? i’ve gotten lost at least twice. i think i keep mixing up these two streets.” she felt weird showing the person a map, as if she were a tourist, but she was still fairly new here, and she hadn’t the faintest clue where she could find all the buildings that surrounded her. “should i take this turn, or this one?”

[scvrpions]

           the  woods  are  lovely,  dark,  and  deep    -----   a  mangled  frame,  utterly dehumanized  by  porcelain  fangs,  sprawls  lifelessly  at  stella’s  feet,  the  poem  echoing  through  her  conscience  . . .  but  i  have  promises  to  keep  and  miles  to  go  before  i  sleep  ;  or  rather  ,  no  sleep  at  all.   she  can  hear  moonlight  serenade  playing  from  the  nearby  bar,  a  symphony  when  coupled  with  the  crickets.  the  only  thing  that  shatters  the  moment  is  the  approaching  footsteps  that  crackle  the  leaves  &  stir  her  ire.  without  even  the  slightest  tilt  of  her  head,  the  devilish  creature’s  southern  cadence  calls  out,  “  what  do  you  think  of  robert  frost  ?  ”  

[wolfoakes]

calvin was sitting near the window in the far corner of the cafe, tapping away at his laptop before he adjusted his glasses on his nose. he’s basically in a bid war on ebay for a walkman that he’s had his eyes on for a good two weeks, and well, he’s losing and he hates it. he’s basically pouting as he taps in $100, and $150 is the highest he’s going to be able to go. “damn it.” he sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, tapping his fingers on the coffee table. 

[gravsons]

❝ we’re closed. ❞ grayson announced as he heard the oh-so-familiar sound of the front door of his parlor opening, his eyes glued on the laptop in front of him. ❝ i’ve been here since eight am and i haven’t eaten yet and honestly, i could eat a cow. ❞ he laughed, finally looking up at the other person. ❝ if it’s an emergency, you can tell me all about it on the way to the restaurant. ❞

[teeganpryce-blog]

“let me guess,” teegan gestured vaguely in the air fingers dancing around the brim of her hat. “bourbon?” is what she lands on, looking at her customer with a hopeful expression. sometimes, you have to make your job a little extra exciting. not that nightlife around here was exactly boring, but. “you look like a bourbon type.”

[schcnk]

robin’s never bought into retro charm. society progresses for a reason, and he much prefers whole foods to the decaying selection of produce they have on display at the ol’ mart grocery. still, there’s something comfortingly quaint about the establishment. it feels as though he’s on the set of a stephen king movie as he wanders the numbered aisles with a shopping basket in tow. and as he reaches for the last carton of chocolate milk, it’s only appropriate for the setting that he meets someone else’s hand there, as well. robin smiles.

“seven percent of americans believe that chocolate milk comes from brown cows,” he tells the stranger. “are you part of that seven percent?”