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eulogy for evolution. he ordered a cup of coffee and a platter of eggs, hoping to God they didn't taste as bad as the radio sounded. it was a crappy place to stop, but he knew that walking in. 281 words.
He ordered a cup of coffee and a platter of eggs, hoping to God they didn't taste as bad as the radio sounded. It was a crappy place to stop, but he knew that walking in. Any diner in the middle of nowhere would inevitably have menus that stuck together with god knows what, checkered floor tiles, and uncomfortable cushions in their booths. If his breakfast tasted like plastic, he had brought it on himself. Tough shit.
Judas rested his forehead on one palm, staring at the ketchup bottles and packets of sugar at the end of the table. God, he had a headache. Going hunting with his band of idiots was a stupid decision. But he needed to get out of his house, get a change of scenery, that kind of thing. He heard it did wonders for people.
His coffee arrived. He smiled at the waitress politely and waited until she waddled off to take a cautious sip. The side of his lip twitched. It definitely wasn't starbucks, but it wasn't like his budget could afford buying overpriced coffee every morning.
He looked out the window, past his abused pick up and other country cars at the highway. Occassionally, a car rolled past. The glass was so thin, he could hear the spluttering of the engine fade into the distance.
Exhaustion rolled over him suddenly, and he didn't even hear his breakfast place being set hesitantly in front of him. By the time he noticed his eggs, they tasted like plastic.
Tough shit.
He paid with cash and returned to his car. Sighing deeply, he tuned the radio to something respectable and pulled away from the gravel parking lot.
notes
another character study, i suppose. judas is a new character, and i haven't decided what personality to really give him yet other than your typical, lazy son-of-a-bitch badass. which is genrally cliche. if you're looking for plot, check my last post. this is kind of a prelude to that.
reading over this also made me realize i need to shake off my habit of writing observationally. i have this horrible habit of cutting myself off from my characters' emotions and writing about their actions instead. it's not necessary horrible, i suppose, but imo it makes them harder to connect with. idk.
as for the title numbers, it's the name of a piano solo by olafar arnalds. i love that guy.
if you spot any errors, please tell me or something. it's getting late and my editing was quick and poor.
He ordered a cup of coffee and a platter of eggs, hoping to God they didn't taste as bad as the radio sounded. It was a crappy place to stop, but he knew that walking in. Any diner in the middle of nowhere would inevitably have menus that stuck together with god knows what, checkered floor tiles, and uncomfortable cushions in their booths. If his breakfast tasted like plastic, he had brought it on himself. Tough shit.
Judas rested his forehead on one palm, staring at the ketchup bottles and packets of sugar at the end of the table. God, he had a headache. Going hunting with his band of idiots was a stupid decision. But he needed to get out of his house, get a change of scenery, that kind of thing. He heard it did wonders for people.
His coffee arrived. He smiled at the waitress politely and waited until she waddled off to take a cautious sip. The side of his lip twitched. It definitely wasn't starbucks, but it wasn't like his budget could afford buying overpriced coffee every morning.
He looked out the window, past his abused pick up and other country cars at the highway. Occassionally, a car rolled past. The glass was so thin, he could hear the spluttering of the engine fade into the distance.
Exhaustion rolled over him suddenly, and he didn't even hear his breakfast place being set hesitantly in front of him. By the time he noticed his eggs, they tasted like plastic.
Tough shit.
He paid with cash and returned to his car. Sighing deeply, he tuned the radio to something respectable and pulled away from the gravel parking lot.
notes
another character study, i suppose. judas is a new character, and i haven't decided what personality to really give him yet other than your typical, lazy son-of-a-bitch badass. which is genrally cliche. if you're looking for plot, check my last post. this is kind of a prelude to that.
reading over this also made me realize i need to shake off my habit of writing observationally. i have this horrible habit of cutting myself off from my characters' emotions and writing about their actions instead. it's not necessary horrible, i suppose, but imo it makes them harder to connect with. idk.
as for the title numbers, it's the name of a piano solo by olafar arnalds. i love that guy.
if you spot any errors, please tell me or something. it's getting late and my editing was quick and poor.