The Lift

The Lift
By J. R. A. Gigney

David waited at the lift doors and was aware that someone was standing beside him. He glanced over. He was standing next to a tall good looking young man of about twenty. The lift arrived and the doors opened. It was empty. The young man followed David inside. The doors closed and the lift began it's journey after the floors had been chosen. The young man had deliberately, it seemed, brushed his hand against Davids as he chose his floor. Both choices where near the top of the tower.

The lift was halfway up when the power failed taking out at least twelve districts of the city. The vents opened and emergency lighting came on bathing the two young men in a soft yellow light. A sound came from the emergency phone. David instinctively opened the panel and picked it up.

"Hi?"
"oh great!" the voice was urgent, "how many of you ate in the lift?"
"Two," David replied. He glanced around at the good looking young man who seemed to be shaking, "what's happened?"
"Powers out. May be some time before it comes back on."
"Okay," David intoned as he watched the young man, "we'll be okay."
"Right, thanks I'll be in touch when we know more!"

Before David could answer the line went dead. David replaced the handset and looked at the young man again. There was fear in the boy's eyes.

"Don't worry," David said kindly, "we'll be out of here soon."

The boy tried to smile, but his mouth wouldn't play ball.

"I'm David," David said, "what's your name?"

"Joe." the voice was soft.

David held out his hand, "nice to meet you, Joe."

Joe took David's hand and gently shook it. Their eyes met. Joe smiled. David smiled back. Joe was still shaking.

"What's wrong, Joe?"

"I dunno," Joe replied softly.

"Okay. Don't worry I don't bite!"

David smiled a broad goofy smile. Joe noticed something different about the smile. Now Joe felt strangely safe. He'd noticed David's fangs.

"You're a Daywalker aren't you?"

"Yeah," David replied, "and you're very perceptive, Joe."

to be continued...



• All poems on this blog are written and belong to J. R. A. Gigney, unless otherwise stated.

Tears

Tears By J. R. A. Gigney

His tears run down his face,
Unnoticed as they mingle with the rain.
The tears keep coming,
As he sees his love disappear down the lane.

He turns to hide his face.
The loss running through his mind.
Not believing that it's over,
And why she could be that unkind.

Still the tears come,
They seem to sting his face.
Now there's no one to comfort him,
In this unforgiving place.

He trudges slowly back inside,
His hair sodden from the rain.
He sees no point in carrying on,
Like dying under a train.

He shuts the door behind him,
Goes and slumps down on the bed,
Cries himself to sleep,
Until there's no more going through his head.

The morning brings no comfort,
The pain is still there.
But now the anger starts to burn,
So much he can no longer care...

Tired of Love

Tired Of Love*
By J. R. A. Gigney
(Inspired by a good friend)

I'm tired of love,
Yes tired of it.
Tired of being told of it.
Tired of hearing it.
Tired of giving it.
Doesn't mean I'm not in love,
Means that it's time for the words to remain unsaid.
They don't need to be said now,
Because they cut like a knife into my heart.
Doesn't mean I'm not in love.
The words must become action,
Must be converted into reality.
If you love me as you say you do,
Then don't say, show!
Don't tell me you love me,
I know that implicitly,
Just be with me,
Support me,
Give me space when I need it.
Set me free to be me!
I'll still be there for you,
I just need some time for myself.
I'm tired of love,
But not being in love.
The love is there but the words are beginning to mean nothing...


*this is only a poem. For me it's not true...




• All poems on this blog are original unless otherwise stated.
• Posted with BlogPress for iPhone.

Location:Green Trees Ave,,United Kingdom