Saturday, October 24, 2015

It was that time of the night

It was that time of the night.  When witches appear as angels and men boast of conquests on the pitch or in bed.  McBride tipped back the whiskey, slid off the bar stool, and weaved his way to the door, squeezing past angels squeezed into dresses one or two sizes too small.  He bid farewell to the bouncers and lurched into the humid night.  A car slowed, it occupants hollered abuse, then sped away.  A throaty voice enticed from the shadows.  Two men stepped onto the pavement blocking his path. McBride clenched his fists and gladly stepped into the violence.

A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words.


TracyK said...

Nice one, Rob.

Anonymous said...

Oh, I do like the way you set this one up, Rob!

Rob Kitchin said...

Thanks. One of those ones where I start with a first line I like then try to find a way forward. I often find it easier to start with an ending and work back.