Léon Dunois
Stories (4)
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A Game That Lost Time
An amassing horde swallows the platform as the bullet train rolls in promptly for the evening rush hour. A man in a suit and sharply fit glasses holding a brown leather briefcase and a silver watch escapes the mob and leans against a pillar with an exasperated sigh. The train halts to a stop and the doors shoot open. The man steps forward to board and in that moment a young boy runs right in front of him. Lurching back just in time the man stumbles in after the kid as the doors close behind him. A sigh of relief escapes his mouth as he finds himself in one of the few open cars and practically collapses on the stiff, blue plastic seat. The summer heat is inscribed in the pit stains revealed after removing his blazer and the loosening of his scarlet tie.
By Léon Dunois2 years ago in Fiction
A Newly Painted Canvas
It was just another day of wandering within my canvas, splotched with striking black ink, as Ronin Underwood, a high school student trying to escape that which haunts him. One day I stumbled upon a small cafe. I thought to myself it might provide some solace to my bleak existence, so I drag my legs to the door. The chime of the doorbell echoes as I swing it open with a lazy shove and time seems to slow and as I look to the counter I’m shocked to find that there isn’t a soul to be seen. The tables and chairs remain occupied by phantoms and the pastries in the display case still radiating heat. My vision goes blurry and in an instant, my head spins as the world starts to go dark. I think to myself, am I dying? What is going on? Is this the Danse Macabre I haven’t heard so cacophonous since the car accident that took away everything? The questions dissipate as the ink maelstrom overcomes my vision with swift, vehemence and the world becomes a void.
By Léon Dunois5 years ago in Humans
