carly part two: the streets

Their Host Tells a Story.


Carly was getting bored, and a little sleepy. At first, this pitch black cubbyhole had seemed like a safe place to spend the night, better than some she'd been in since moving out of Danny's apartment, and the idea of telling stories had sounded like a fun way to pass the time.

The tall man, as she thought of him, had originally been as eager to get out as she, maybe more so, but then he had suddenly decided that this was all okay with him. She could tell that this whole situation amused him for some reason.

After all, it must have been after ten, so the curfew was on. She'd had a dinner which was filling if nothing else, and their mysterious shuffling host had provided each of them with a heavy mug of strong tea.

But the room was completely dark, she was comfortably warm in her jacket with her hands around the steaming mug. She hadn't had coffee after her dinner with Danny because she'd been getting tired of suppressing her urge to scream, and she was pretty sure this strong, smoky tea didn't have caffeine in it either. Either she'd better get some coffee pretty soon, or their host's story about streets moving around had better get a lot more convincing.


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About Anthony Lee Collins

I write.
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