pulling a train...

[Mr Noone]

name Fintan DeCoursey

outward appearance Late-fifties, slight paunch, thinning grey hair, close cropped. Wearing an off-the-rack suit, but no tie. By his feet, a carry-all for the weekend. He adjusts his glasses to read adverts for holidays in Malta and Oporto.

insider information The kids have grown and moved out, the wife has left and he didn't blame her. The small house in Holland Park reaped a huge return and he's grown comfortably complacent in his new-found bachelorhood, but it's been a struggle to avoid getting a cat.

what he is thinking/doing He questions the logic of taking the boat train to Holyhead, when he could fly to Dublin in an hour's time. Something slightly masochistic about retracing the steps that brought him to London thirty-five years ago—but that's the way he is: the need to close the circle is a fitting penance. He can't wait to stand at the rail of the ferry, smell the sea and see the spires of Dun Laoghaigh come into view.

 

[sweepthefloor]

George Green sits on a train. He wears a long black cape and a hat. In the hat he pulls out stray cats and bouquets of fake flowers. He’s a magician. He sits on the train and thinks of his act. Will he be pulled off the stage with a hook? The blonde with big breasts in the cutter box will make his nightly swill egg in a brown paper basket, and the crook takes half his silver dollar tips. The tips he spends on sips of cheap whiskey and bread. He’s moist with the shakes on the way to his show. He doesn’t even have an erection.

 

[RobDownSouth]

name Kathrine Bate, PhD

outward appearance
She is dressed in tweed, with professional horned-rim glasses, although she normally wore contacts. She smells of sex. Recent sex.

inside information
In the past hour, she'd fellated the department head of the local community college and signed a contract to teach English 101 (again!) for the upcoming winter semester. These two events were related.

what he's thinking/doing
Five straight minutes of gargling with Scope couldn't get the taste of him out of her mouth....

"You've got to give head to get ahead" she had thought bitterly. Jobs were scarce. Her partner would understand....she HAD to understand. It was either this or sell the horse.

"I should have gone to Med School" she sighed, not for the first time.

 

[butters]

name Harley Cochrane

outward appearances
twentyish skinny aesthete, skinny black hipster jeans, pointy black suede boots, leather vest, ash-blonde shoulder length hair and a goatee, stood in the doorwell with a guitar case.

insider information
part time actor who can't play a note, making his way to a fete after his mate called him to say someone couldn't make it and all he had to do was stand in the background pretending to play guitar to a backing track. fortunately his girlfriend had a guitar he could borrow for the gig cos money's money, right? real name Jerrold Long but thinks Harley Cochrane sounds better. his girlfriend is convinced he's the next big talent. he thinks she's a twat but she pays the rent.

what he's thinking/doing
trying to look cool as fuck, but glad the other commuters can't see inside the guitar case. the guitar's pink. barbie pink. thinks he'd really like to work with horses.

 

[HarryHill]

Marked for future depredation.

 

[glynndah]

Name: Charlene Parker

Outward appearance: Middle aged, slightly frumpy with hair that's not quite right, wearing clothes chosen for comfort rather than fashion. There's nothing that stands out about her.

Inside information: Charlene's heading for a clandestine weekend with a lover she's met online. Inside her bag in the overhead bin is a selection of toys and a collection of cosmetics. By the time the train reaches her stop, she will have transformed herself into Cherie.

What she's thinking or feeling: She's giddy with excitement, her whole body thrumming with anticipation.

 

[butters]

loving these. keep on pullin' that train along the tracks.

 

[RobDownSouth]

name Susan Dolfolino

outward appearance
She is carrying an oversized gym bag slung over one shoulder, wearing jeans, a Queen t-shirt, and somewhat incongruously, five inch stilletto heels

inside information
She's just completed a grueling double shift dancing at the Pussycat Lounge, netting thirty four dollars.

what he's thinking/doing
She sits next to a woman in tweed who smells of sex and Scope.

"Thirty four dollars...oh God one of these bills smells literally like shit!" She quickly stuffs that bill into the red Solo cup of a homeless-looking bum who passes down the aisle begging.

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!" she mutters softly.

Ms. Scope-n-sex wonders if she has Tourettes.....

 

[butters]

this kind of interaction between passengers is what ties the book together. well played, bobble

 

[RobDownSouth]

this kind of interaction between passengers is what ties the book together. well played, bobble

It's harder than it seems.
(I say that a lot, sadly)

 

[neci]

name Martin McGee
outward appearance A bit shorter than average, pudgy man pushing 40. His hair thins out a bit at the top. Black peppering with grey stress. The stress is also pulling into his eyes. Lines being set for a very aged 50. Black mustache. Clean chin. Black suit pants have a clean hem. White button down shirt with the bottom button stretched across the tightening gut, pressed green tie. The suit jacket a more worn shade of black than the pants.
inside information Martin picked the suit pants at the department store on clearance. The mustache was grown back in Movember. He shaved the beard at the end of the month, but thought the stache was cool. His face is shaved twice a day at the same time he goes into brush his teeth. Like clockwork. Instead of looking cool, he looks like a middle aged pervert. Martin is wearing a silky, stretchy, camo print thong.
what they are thinking/doing Martin stares ahead and scratches his balls without thinking. Martin has big balls and has to dig around his pants to scratch the spot that's tickling him. Martin's mind drifts off to the lips on the lady who entered last stop. He gets a pudgy thinking about her pout. Martin stretches out and straightens his pants. His balls begin to itch again. He might have to find a different laundry detergent.

 

[jomar]

Huh, I would have thought this thread would have gotten more op intended traction on the AH...how about that.

 

[glynndah]

loving these. keep on pullin' that train along the tracks.

This thread needs a soundtrack:

Casey Jones

Steel Rail Blues

Wreck of the Old 97

City of New Orleans

And a mascot: Boomer

A from the good little witch.

 

[neci]

Huh, I would have thought this thread would have gotten more op intended traction on the AH...how about that.

fuck the AH.

 

[RobDownSouth]

name Kwala "Bear" Washington

outward appearance
He's wearing a brand new "Pussycat Lounge" t-shirt, which he received for purchasing three table dances in advance.

inside information
He and his best friend Marty McGee (a man that talked so much trash he was called "garbage can" behind his back) had been having one helluva time at the bachelor party at the Pussycat...until they were thrown out.

what he's thinking/doing
"It's not like I MEANT to shit myself!" he fumed.

He glanced at the end of he car and startled. "oh hell. There's a cop!" He had two outstanding warrants. He tried to make himself look inconspicuous.

 

[butters]

Huh, I would have thought this thread would have gotten more op intended traction on the AH...how about that.

except i find the posters here more interesting, not quite so ''focused'' and open to imaginative play. the authors i enjoy from the AH frequent here as well.

 

[HarryHill]

This thread needs a soundtrack:

Casey Jones

Steel Rail Blues

Wreck of the Old 97

City of New Orleans

And a mascot: Boomer

A from the good little witch.

Aerosmith rock on down the line

 

[butters]

name Jade Abbly

outward appearance
overweight teen with purple and cream hair, glasses, stripey hoop tights, orange satin skirt and white lacey top over a too tight black bra. black nails and a tiny pink and black back pack. reading the latest manga in a vampire series.

insider information
parents are still happily married and dote on her. she does ok in school but not well, and would rather immerse herself in manga worlds than think about science or religious studies. gave up smoking after three days - considers herself hardcore for quitting cold turkey.

what she is thinking/doing
turning the pages and sucking on the ends of her hair, thinking !!O\|WOW and ZOMG!@:[!

 

[jomar]

fuck the AH.

Those bastards!

except i find the posters here more interesting, not quite so ''focused'' and open to imaginative play. the authors i enjoy from the AH frequent here as well.

The AH May be doing through a phase, was lots of varied author challenges awhile back. Seems less so now, but you know how memory of the good old days go...

Thanks for the compliment.

 

[gotsnowgotslush]

Twig' and 'Sparky'

A tall young woman with short, dark brunette hair
A tall young man with strong, large hands and arms
that are thickly covered with light blonde hairs.

They are both to begin their teaching careers.

They stand side by side, with their backpacks resting
on the double doors of the train car. Their backpacks
are enormous.

She steadies herself with left stair rail. They both stare
straight ahead, out of the windows of the opposite doors.

They are wearing hiking clothing and well worn boots.
Everything is clean, but seems penetrated by dusty sand.
What they have been through, and where they have been,
insulates them from the other people on the train.

Something has happened, during their travels,
that has separated them from each other.
They are each in their own world.
They don't reach out to each other.
The connection between them,
envelopes them.

 

[cleaver]

this one's easy, harry thought.
though it wasn't, and he knew it...

he tugged, absently
at the front of his grimey chinos
then tugged again.
a stubby right paw with greasy nails;
more grazing at the head of his cock
than to adjust anything.

this was her stop, he knew.
and just down the street from the station
was the tight little flat where she lived.

he had followed her there once
and a couple of times since.

she was quite lovely when she wore blue...
or the sweater with stripes
and any time she was in heels
or her hair was up.

if he was lucky,
as he was this afternoon,
she would pass him on her way out the door.
he'd inhale of her with a low grunt
and sniff at her wake...

spinning. sweet.

harry would find something to say
to her
one of these days.

and the train lurched to real away.

 

[CandiCame]

for you writery types:

in less than 250 words, write a passenger on a tube train (underground), broken up between the headlines of

• name
• outward appearance
• inside information
• what they are thinking/doing

a voyeuristic snapshot that delves inside. the headlines don't count in your word tally.

one post = one passenger. could be interesting, especially here, on this board.

the idea comes from geof ryman's book 253, where he's written 252 pasengers plus the driver, separated out into 7 carriages and covering the course of a 7 minute journey on the london underground, dedicating 253 words to each person. given the characters here on the geebee, i think we have the makings of a fascinating commuter ride.

the intention is for purely fictional creations and not about this being used as a shit fest. i'm sure eeyore won't mind me taking liberties for the example - yanno, sice he couldn't pass up the opportunity to snipe.

oh, do what y'all like. you will anyway

This actually sounds like fun. I'll try it.

[*]name:
[*]outward appearance
[*]inside information
[*]what they are thinking/doing

His name isn't important, nor is the fact that his clothes are stained in something- red wine? Blood? He's picking tiny chunks of gravel out of the side of his arm absentmindedly; he reeks of alcohol and the dark roots are peeking through his green, tussled hair. He struggles to keep his mind occupied, takes out his phone and sticks in the headphones. His leather skinny jeans are ripped right above the rim of his knee high boots, and that is definitely blood still pouring from the fresh cut. His mind is still on the club; the fight. He knew he was too young to be in there but his friend had SWORN that he wouldn't have any problems. Too much to drink- his head was swimming. He took a look at his reflection in the phone by the too-bright lights of the train and caught his brand new bruises; his smudged punk eyeliner- and a girl behind him reading a manga that he was sure he knew by heart. She reeks of money and he's not even sure he still has his wallet. But maybe the night wouldn't have to be a total waste.

"Hey," he smiled, hoping the blood on his canines was enticing rather than offputting, "Into vampires?"

 

[Equinoxe]

Oh, the inevitable hazards of multiple authorship genre blurring!

So, we've got contemporary realism¹ from assorted authors, poetic musings from cleaver and gotsnowgotslush, vampire fiction from Candi, some semi-Crichtonian revenge fiction from Rob who is now inexplicably Bob, comedic stylings from several authors…

I'm sure I missed something.

¹ That's the genre for fiction that isn't "genre fiction".

 

[neci]

choo! choo!

 

[neci]

barbara's got big old titties and long red nails. the french is on her toes. tanning bed legs rubbed in what smells like coconut and lime and vanilla. tennis are on. ankle socks. athletic legs. knees held strong. bit of a belly like a belly dancer. soft and curvy. denim skirt shorts. blue tank with a red and white jacket. i would say a size 10/12. color treated brunette with chunky blonde highlights. "natural makeup" mascara and lipgloss. some liner. the basics.

barbara just lost 45lbs.

barbara sits on the train eating kit kat bar after kit kat bar. she licks the chocolate off her fingers as the oil rubs into her pores. after the fifth kit kat bar, she reaches into her purse and pops four diet pills and and two emergency relax pills. she washes it down with a plastic bottle of life flavored water.