Noir Car, Episode 4

when she's suprised to be alone.

She's sober now, and sauntering into the shower in the silence of the hour and the nights too hot to sleep. She swears he's somewhere she doesnt want him to be. Hanging on the shoulder of the road, handling the shoulders of a rouge-cheeked good for nothing girl who doesn't know where he's been. Betting against his better judgement, laying in a liars lounge chair...he could be anywhere, but she only knows where he's not.

She's towelling off and the telephone is sounding its teltale two AM tone. She reaches, and retreats...

TO BE CONTINUED
episode 4 by Sonya Walker

Noir Car, Episode 3

The patter of his own noseblood falling to the ground roped his mind into a memory, years ago, the sound of wet brown rocks blindly dripping and dreaming like his busted nose, dementia of love he, he, didn't, not quite, didn't know, her, face, it was, well, he couldn't...he couldn't say it, couldn't say it too...her face...her eyes were, like the brown rocks, dripping cold...cold ocean water, and the memory was punctuated with sharp toothed pain, a loose mouthed mastery of nerve endings shouting now and then but the ocean and the dripping brown rocks called him back to stepping out of the car onto the soft sand, taking her soft hand and walking from the edge of the road that always only ended up leading to the nowhere of now, but then, then, she sang him a soft song in the ear of his history, that landed like blood drops drip drip drip from the heart, far away from the moment he met a man he never met at all, who took him hand in hand in fist in face from the soft singing sands where he and his love once walked on blood drips drip drip drop. As he's alone he falls asleep until It's dark outside and after being back in the bar she's back in the street walking home to her home where he's not awake or asleep but just not, he's somewhere else as she opens the door and she knows it so she's surprised when

TO BE CONTINUED
episode 3 by Matt Fontaine

Noir Car, Episode 2

“Looks like I’m overdressed,” replied the captor to the groaning ache of opening eyes, dried from the vision of too much night, too few punctuation marks except the occasional misplaced, comma and rolled over to see the ceiling of possibility, the limit of his own laugh, the busted bloody tooth now no doubt deserved in his drunkenness. The last thing he remembered was her spilt Scarlett splashing into the street and trails of glittering glass hucked at the last taxi cab, followed by famous words, “you lousy bastard!” fading into the air behind. He wished he’d not thought of staying, had not asked her to rescue him, because besides a better mousetrap the human mind can cobble cathedrals of shame out of the fading mirror of amnesia as it shatters with each second, each breath. When would he be big enough to see the whole thing? Only after another forgotten bloody tooth? Only after she asked him to buy her one more drink? Only after she quit chasing him, spilling her drink again and again, deciding finally, forever, to stay sitting, facing him with her back, her eyes occupied with the dewy drama of television and the eternal happy hour? When would he quit being worth the kindness of the fists of strangers? When would what he knows quit making him forgetful? His captor rubbed bandaged fists and took a drag from a cigarette, feeding the cancer in his heart, waiting for the truth to emerge. The bloody nose recalled the spilt Scarlett, running after him in rivulets, his roped wrists the compulsion to flee, the bondage of broken promises.

TO BE CONTINUED
espisode 2 by Matt Fontaine

Noir Car, Episode 1

"Give her the slip" he called out, from his gangster car standpoint at the corner bar, at the corner of the bar she sits sulking and sipping her Scarlett O’Hara (Southern Comfort and some sort of sweetener), he saunters up and smiles that smile she’s seen somwhere else.
"Honey, he wants me to hike out of here" he hisses through his half hearted smile. Her slip is showing, He hails a hansom cab and hears her scream at him in the silent corner bar. He gave her that slip and he gave her the slip and she screams in stereo in that hansom cab. "Isn’t she just that way," he says, "Isn’t it just that way..."

TO BE CONTINUED...
episode 1 by Sonya Walker