The cool sound of the night caressed his ears with southern sadness, painting obscure landscapes on the blank canvas of his sleep-stilled mind...opening his eyes, he slowly located the prodding pressure building in his head.
Damn, hung over..and still tripping lightly from the sugar cube someone popped in his mouth the night before...and the wine.
He winced at the sliver of sunlight that slipped through the blind and buried itself into the wall above him. Reaching one hand up, fingers splayed, cats-cradling the errant sunbeam..the effort cost him. Groaning, he let his arm fall back on the pile of pillows next to him.
Bradley blinked. Beds do not usually speak that often. Too bad really. Sure bet they have some mighty interesting stories..like maybe Hugh Hefner's bed. Or perhaps Courtney Love's boudior. Or even the Marquis De Sade's bed. You can only guess, he thought. Wait. My bed definitely does not say 'ow'. He thumped it again.
"Ow," pause "what?!"
Bradley blinked again. Looking over, he realised the jumble of pillows, blankets, and cast off clothing was inhabited. And by something markedly better smelling than what usually lived there.
Two pale eyes blinked slowly back at him, nestled in a smiling, at least an amused, porcelin face. Her skin was flawless, white as the cold that makes old men rub their joints and ravens puff their feathers out and search for a warm chimney to perch upon. Her hair, black as a murderer's heart and cut short like a pageboys hung limply on her brow. She wore a crooked grin, and not much else as he quickly scanned her.
"Did you forget something?" she purred.
Bradley stared, amazed. It wasn't often that he had woken up next to strangers, but at least they were strangers he remembered meeting.
Her, he would have remembered.
She shook her head slowly, chuckling under her breath. A dainty hand emerged, to stop hanging over his like a luminescent spider.
"Nice to make your aqquaintance. My name is Isobel" she paused, smiling "and how are you?"
Bradley slowly blinked, shaking her hand. Her hand was dry and warm, like desert sand baking in the settings suns kiss goodnight. He smiled back "I'm Brad-"
"I remember...you told me last night" she interrupted.
"I did? When?"
"Right after we met" her eyes roamed, settling on a pack of Camels on the nightstand. She reached over him to snatch it gracefully. She lit one with some matches tucked in the cellophane, and layed the pack on the bed next to Bradley. Isobel inhaled deeply, and let the smoke drift lazily from her nostrils. It inched itself upwards, torwards the shaft of light that was centered on the wall above their heads. She snorted disdainfully.
"How ironic. To be born in the heart of a dying star, travel millions of miles with resolute cause and purpose, just to end up on your wall" she paused, her green eyes flitting over to look at his face, as if reassuring herself of something. He reached for the pack of cigarettes.
"Yeah, kinda pointless, isn't it?"
She furrowed her brows "No..it had a point. A reason" she looked back up "One of which is to affirm us of our very existence."
Bradley exhaled, and looked at her.
"If you looked behind that wall, there is no light. It stops..thus proving the wall exists. Us seeing that..proves we exist" she stopped and took another drag.
"What about the radiation that passes through. We can't see it, it passes through us. What does that say of our reality?"
Isobel smiled. "You're catching on...there are different definitions of existence."
He looked closer at her, noticing the pale curve of her neck, so thin and graceful. Her torso was covered, but one perfectly formed calf peeked out and brushed his down the bed. He swallowed.
"Did we..last night.." he started. She smiled wider.
"You weren't good for much more than stumbling to the bed, as far as we could tell."
Bradley took another drag, then his eyes went wide. "We?!" he looked over. Isobel smiled, and nudged the space behind her. "..urmm.." a female sounding voice answered.
"That's Molly..she's not really a morning person" she glanced at the clock half covered with an errant t-shirt "or an afternoon one it seems either".
"He snores" came a muffled statement from Molly.
Bradley shook his head and layed his head back on the pillow.
"Now wait a minute. You're saying I came in..my room..and passed out?"
"Yeah, something like that."
"..REALLY loud!" came another muffled exclamation.
Isobel pressed her lips together and winked at him. "Drools, too"
"Okay, okay" he growled. damn "so how'd you end up in here?"
"Your roomate. It's cool, I work with her. She dropped us off here to crash before she went off with her boyfriend. We liked your room better. That pink in there is..unsettling."
She reached over, brushing a stray lock of hair from his face. "You're cute when you're not drooling." She ran one lacquered fingernail down his cheek, lightly pressing harder at the end of the caress. He flinched slightly inspite of himself.
"Sshh..go back to sleep." she murmered. Bradley found himself lulled, almost unwilllingly closing his eyes. He could deal with this later..rest sounded good. Sleep came, sat on his chest, and breathed smokey dreams into his eyes.
And all went dark.
The sound of Armageddon rolled into the room, boucing off the art covered walls and spinning in the air mid-room. Sensing its purpose served at the stirring soul awakened, it swirled out the window and back to the cold awaiting stars.
Bradley groaned, opened his eyes, seeing the ceiling staring down at him. "Some dream," he muttered, rolling over. No girl. He reached into the jumble of pillows and blankets. No complaining girl.
"Hmmm.." he glanced around the room, suddenly noting the few items of girl stuff on the bureau. "ahh.." He sat up. Still wearing a stained shirt and ratty cargo pants from the night before. Looking at the clock-6:30 pm glowing back at him. He lit a cigarette and walked to the door,opening it.
As he started down the hall, he heard Isobel's voice-
"..not going anywhere, babe. No ride."
Bradley coughed and walked into the kitchen, where he was greeted to the sight of Isobel standing by the stove, wearing one of his clean shirts and (he guessed) boxers. She was tall he noted, perhaps 5'8", and slim. The other girl, Molly, was perched up on the counter, her bare legs swinging listlessly back and forth, thumping the cabinet door with her heel. She had greasy blondish hair that hung in her face, which was pleasant enough if not as striking as Isobels.
"So..hey. Guess you were real after all."
Molly rolled her eyes as Isobel looked at him. "Yeah, real stranded."
"Where ya going?" he asked, moving over to the refridgerator and opening it. Bradley peered inside it, blinking against the light. Empty.
"No where right now. Not at least until your roomate gets back..she has the only keys to my apartment, and the landlord is away." Isobel walked up beside him and glanced into the fridge "Mind the company?"
He looked at her, then shrugged. "No, not at all," he closed the door "make yourself at home" he finished, letting a faint hint of irony seep into his voice.
this is an original work of fiction of yours personally.
oh..and softlinks like those only egg me on to write more stinky stuff. -Mr. Stinky