Tyler D. Findlay

Post image for Tyler D. Findlay

by horrorsleazetrash on April 19, 2011

Lights Still Burning

Cars beeped and sputtered down Ponce de Leon Avenue as Candice sat on the curb in utter bewilderment of her current situation, her big doe eyes lost in the headlights speeding by.  The crowd had thinned, the last drunken stragglers tripping toward their cars.  Planted pathetically on the curb, like a beautiful flower sprouting from a crack in the concrete, she cradled her knees and tried his phone one more time.

Straight to voicemail.

“Shit..”

She was far too young, pretty, and white to be wandering the streets at this hour.  It was getting late, and she was running out of options.  He wasn’t in the club.  He wasn’t at his car.  He was nowhere, a vague memory caught in the labyrinth of the nights events.  Like some partying apparition, he seemed to have slid through time and space to absolute nothingness.

Or most likely to some slut’s apartment.

She stood up, a gust whipping her little black dress, pulling it tight against her body, a whirlwind of summer night air dancing with her.  An invisible partner twisting around her shape, caressing her bubble butt through the thin black cloth stretched across it.

Holding her high heels, she stood barefoot on the curb, waiting for an opening to cross the street.  A garden statue, beautifully sculpted, left to weather storms alone in the dead of night, the glare of streetlamps and headlights revealing her sadness in shadowy flashes of revelation and abandonment.

Rising through the static of traffic and wind, she heard a voice calling across the parking lot.  She turned. It was a security guard from the club, slowly approaching, his gaze locked.  Prowling wolf.

“Hey! You alright?”

“I’m fine,” she replied sternly.

“Need a cab?”

“No money.”

“Well, can I give you a lift home?” the wolf asked, flashing a quick smile.

He was picturing her bent over his bed.

“My ride is on the way,” she lied.

“If you say so…”

Turning back towards the road, she could still feel his lustful eyes rolling down her back, pouring over her ass, and dripping slowly down her legs. A sharp chill ran up her spine and wrapped itself around her.  Inhaling deeply, she listened as the wolf walked off into the night, his footsteps eventually losing themselves in the pounding buzz of the city.

After thoughtfully looking both ways she dashed across Ponce, quickly slowing to a hurried walk upon reaching the relative safety of the sidewalk.  She briskly found her way back to Terry’s car, which was still parked and undisturbed where they had left it.

It was parked at a run down grocery store dubbed the “Murder Kroger” after a body was found in the parking lot.  She had laughed when she had learned its nickname, chugging beers in the car with Terry before they walked to the club.  Now standing alone in that empty parking lot, she no longer found it the least bit amusing.

News stories filled her mind.

Another body found at the Kroger on Ponce de Leon.

Teen missing after disappearing from nightclub.

But first, your local weather report.

Terry had assured her that this was a decent neighborhood, but to her young suburban eyes the shadows danced before her, each promising its own grim headlines of a young girl missing.

Her face on a milk carton.

She tried his phone one last time.

Nothing.

Sitting on the hood of his car, she frantically scrolled through her phone, searching for a way out, a chariot waiting.  Who would answer at four in the morning?

She called Amanda.

It rang twice.

HEY GIRL! GET OVER HERE!” Amanda answered, screaming over a buzz of bedlam in the background, electronic bass distorting through the line.

“I’m stuck downtown. Can you come get me?”

WHAT?!

“I need you to come get me.  Terry left me stranded.”

GET OVER HERE!”

“I can’t! I’m stuck!”

I CANT HEAR YOU! I’M FUCKING WASTED! GET THE FUCK OVER HERE AND DO SHOTS!

Click.

Fuck.

Thumbing through her phone again, she ran across the name Karen.  A name she barely knew.  Terry’s ex-girlfriend.

They had met at a party, and Karen had mentioned something about her apartment downtown.  After hovering over the call button, she shut her phone, lifting her innocent face again towards the abject void of the parking lot.

A black sedan approached, slowing as it cruised by her, brakes squeaking.  No music. The windows were tented, but she could make out the drivers sinister silhouette, a head and neck turning to take in her vulnerable frame.

She watched, the hair on her arms rising, as it turned to circle the parking lot again.

Flipping open her phone, she called Karen.

Ring.

The headlights swept across the other side of the lot, a spotlight hunting.

Ring.

The car turned again, slowly crawling back around.

Ring.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Karen?”

“Yeah.  Who the fuck is this?”

“Its Candice.  We met at Lewis’s a few weeks ago.”

“Oh yeah! Terry’s new fuck!” Karen chuckled, “How’s that working out?”

“He ditched me at MJQ with no way home.”

“No shit? I’m sorry.  Do you need a ride?  You can crash here.”

“Oh my god, thank you soooo much.”

“I’ll be there in five.”

Click.

Sighing dramatically, Candice put her phone in her purse and surveyed the lot.  The black sedan had vanished.

Under the yellow haze of the city, she waited.

After a few minutes, Karen pulled up in a small green Honda and whipped into the adjacent parking spot.  She popped the trunk and hopped out, hardly dressed and sporting a long black ponytail.

“What are you doing?” Candice asked as Karen bent into the trunk, her tight ass peeking out from the bottom of her cheerleader shorts.

She didn’t reply, but emerged with a metal bat and a wide grin.

“What is that for?” Candice gawked.

Without a word, Karen marched to the front of Terry’s car.

Screaming, she swung the bat, hitting the side mirror, sending it skidding across the parking lot.

She screamed again.

“Fuck you, you piss of shit!”

She lifted the bat over her head and brought it crashing down onto the windshield, a web of cracks splintering outward.  The impact triggered the car alarm, sending a barrage of sound and flashing lights cascading around them.

Breathing heavily, she turned to Candice and held out the bat.

“Wanna try?” she yelled over the alarm.

“I shouldn’t…”

“C’mon”

Wink.

Candice took the bat and swung it lightly into the side of Terry’s car, leaving a tiny dent.

“Harder.”

She swung again.

“Pussy!” Karen taunted.

He left her.  He deserves this.

Fuck it.

Squaring her feet, she rolled the bat in her grip, closed her eyes, and swung hard.

The sound of shattering glass blasted past her.  Tiny granules of glass bounced off her face and arms.  The crash echoed through the lot and down the street, a parade of violence.

Together, they broke every window and stole his radio.

Karen’s apartment was smoldering.

And a dump.

Taking a seat, Candice could feel the hot leather couch adhere to her dress, her legs sticking to the moist surface.  She looked down at the floor, a sea of empty beer cans littered the grungy shag carpet.

“Hope you don’t mind,” Karen said as she peeled off her top, “The air conditioner is broken and I’m burning up.”

Topless, Karen walked to the fringe, her breasts bouncing and glistening with sweat, pulled out a few beers, and tossed one to Candice.

“So did he say where he was going?” Karen asked.

“No. Just disappeared.”

“Fucking prick.  He always had his own agenda.  Never gave a shit about anyone else.  I can’t believe he’d leave a cute thing like you hanging out to dry.”

Karen popped open her beer and nestled down on the couch, her tan body shining in the dim light, and began chugging.  Candice stole a glance at her amazing rack, two perfect spheres hanging from her chest, rising and falling with each swallow.  As she looked up, Karen’s eyes met hers.

Leaning in, they kissed lightly, their lips sticking together in the thick heat.  Gently taking Candice’s hand, Karen rose and led her back to the bedroom.

Somewhere in the mess of sheets and clothes her phone was ringing.  White morning light beat into the room from the open window, a heavenly radiance bathing over the bed.  Candice peered up at the ceiling, her naked body still entwined with Karen’s.  Sitting up, she rummaged through the mess, found her phone, and flipped it open.

“Where the fuck did you go?” she demanded.

“I got locked up,” Terry explained.

“Oh my god! For what?”

“Fighting.”

“Goddamnit, Terry!”
“I know, I know.  And to make matters worse, someone smashed up my car and stole my radio.”

“That’s terrible.”

She glanced at Karen, who was giggling madly under the sheets.

“Did you get home okay?”

“Yeah.  I’m fine.  Just exhausted.”

She winked and blew Karen a kiss.



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