For Six Sentence Stories where the given word is Visa.
Last week… a taxi appeared…I climbed in and asked the driver to take me there…he said nothing…I recognised his face in the mirror…a Local …
…everything became a blur as he drove faster and faster, cars swerving to avoid us, horns blaring, and voices screaming, all the time his eyes staring at me in the mirror, not at the road ahead.
We left the city and shot through a forest, gradually becoming enveloped in a thick mist, his eyes still trained on me, then everything began to flicker; light, dark, light, dark…dark.
I squeezed closed my eyes and suddenly everything fell silent, still, peaceful and when I slowly opened them I was back in the ballroom, alone; no music, no dancers just me, alone.
There was an ornate mirror to my left and I walked towards it, my image was at first a little hazy but as I got closer the person looking back at me wasn’t me, it was Local, then I heard the sound of a gong and strolled from the ballroom into a dining hall where a table laden with food stretched into the distance.
Locals sat shoulder to shoulder gazing in my direction, I felt different, calm and contented, and as I looked into the eyes of the silent diners, one by one they welcomed me but not with words, words weren’t necessary.
I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned to see a lady, that lady, you remember her, and she handed me a piece of parchment which looked like a document, a visa or something, and then….
To be continued.
Thanks to Denise at GirlieOnTheEdge for hosting.
PART ONE CAN BE FOUND HERE
PART TWO CAN BE FOUND HERE
PART THREE CAN BE FOUND HERE