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One Snowy Night – Individual Release from Wayward Ink Publishing
Originally
released within Wayward Ink Publishing’s anthology
Stranded, in October 2014, my short story One
Snowy Night is now available as an individual short story.
One snowy night, Keith
Brambles learns that appearances can be deceptive.
After yet another
disastrous date, Keith drives home much to fast for the snowy conditions. When
his car skids and crashes, he thinks he’s going to spend the night
freezing in his car, until a man in a white van stops to help him. But Keith
fears his rescuer may not appreciate his rather obvious preference.
Excerpt
Another half hour went by, and at
last Keith heard the sound of an engine. As he looked out of the window,
headlights blinded him, and he blinked and squinted. He unfolded his arms and
legs, and groaned as he tried to put his feet down on the floor. His limbs had
stiffened and everything hurt. He fumbled for the door handle with numb
fingers. As he struggled, suddenly the driver’s door jerked open, and a face
appeared.
Keith stared at the hulking
figure, stooped over to look into the car. He could make out a moustache and
goatee, and bright eyes, but the rest was obscured by a beanie and the collar
of a heavy winter coat.
“You alright, mate?” a gruff voice
asked.
“Y-y-y-yes,” Keith stammered. He
was shivering so badly, he doubted he could utter another word.
“No injuries?”
He shook his head in
response.
“Can you get out?”
“I…d-d-d-d…” Keith meant to say
I don’t know. He shoved the other door open, and extended
one leg, until his foot reached the snowy ground outside. He groaned as he
tried to move the other leg. His knee was locked and he couldn’t feel his foot
at all.
“Fuck. Wait there.” The driver’s
door slammed and seconds later, the man appeared at the other side of the car. Large
arms reached out and scooped Keith up. He clutched at the thick neck of his
rescuer, as he was plucked from the Audi and carried to a waiting white Transit
van. White Van Man. Keith cringed, and hoped the man
wouldn’t recognize him. His type probably wasn’t very tolerant. Then again, it
wouldn’t really matter whether he knew who Keith was or not. Keith was wearing
a purple silk shirt, heeled boots, earrings and eye makeup. He thought his
preference must be fairly obvious.
“There you go.” White Van Man
managed to pull open the passenger side door of the van and hoist Keith up onto
the seat without much effort. He slammed the door closed, went around the other
side, and climbed behind the wheel.
The heating in the van was blowing
at full blast, and Keith leaned forward and placed his frozen hands over one of
the vents. The interior of the vehicle was like a furnace, and he knew he would
thaw out quickly, but painfully.
“What happened?” White Van Man
asked.
“Um…I…um…I came up to the bend too
fast and braked. Stupid.”
“Are you sure you’re not
hurt?”
“Bruised, maybe, from the
seatbelt. The airbag went off. I’m okay, just frozen.”
“How long have you been
there?”
“An hour and a half, or thereabouts.
Thanks for stopping.” Keith glanced at the man, as he unzipped his coat and
pulled the beanie from his head. He had thick, dark hair and dark eyes. Keith
could see something on his skin above the neckline of his T-shirt, which could
have been a tattoo. Oh, God, White Van Man is probably a biker or a
head banger as well.
“Here.”
Keith looked down, and took the
plastic cup from the man’s hand. It held strong black coffee. Keith hadn’t
noticed him pick up the flask and pour it.
“Thanks.”
“You’re Kent Brambles,” his
rescuer said; a statement rather than a question.
Shit.
“Uh…yes. Keith, actually. Kent’s just my…um…my…”
“Stage name?” The man grinned, but
then grimaced a little.
“Yeah. I’m guessing my…uh…my music
isn’t your cup of tea,” Keith said nervously.
“I’m into my rock and roll.” He
smiled again and extended a large hand. “Mike Talbot.”
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