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    Good Night Primrose
    Good Night Primrose
    Good Night Primrose
    Ebook65 pages53 minutes

    Good Night Primrose

    By Oscar A McCarthy

    ()

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    About this ebook

    I THOUGHT I'D LOST YOU, I THOUGHT I'D LOST MYSELF....

    Night.

    Rain.

    The low engine hum acted as the pedal point to the endless strikes of soles on pavement, the distant cry, all replaying in a percussive loop, all blanketed under the constant shower of white noise. The impression it created (for it is mere impressions which we feel and the details which one plagiarizes from the imaginations of others) reminded me of the lonely nights in a parlor with the radio across the table. The sounds of distant voices used to reach my ears but not quite reaching through the warm fog of her breath across my ear. Her embrace, the soft brush of an outline of her lips…Grace…

    Enough past tense, I thought. Such an overused perspective, such a mechanic to paint only what one has seen (while guiltily acknowledging I won’t be quite so adamant). I reached and turned a knob, the new rhythms rising over the drones but much quite the same really.

    As every song, not quite indifferent from another.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherOscar A McCarthy
    Release dateApr 14, 2018
    ISBN9781386061441
    Good Night Primrose

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      Book preview

      Good Night Primrose - Oscar A McCarthy

      Good Night Primrose

      Oscar A McCarthy

      Published by Oscar A McCarthy, 2018.

      This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

      GOOD NIGHT PRIMROSE

      First edition. April 14, 2018.

      Copyright © 2018 Oscar A McCarthy.

      ISBN: 978-1386061441

      Written by Oscar A McCarthy.

      Also by Oscar A McCarthy

      Ancient Astronauts

      Conrad

      Sinensis Camellia

      Space Librarian

      The Revelation

      The Trial

      Good Night Primrose

      Immortal Blue

      Sharp

      Eternal Nature

      Barbarian

      Dental Warfare

      Game Of Immortals

      Society

      Table of Contents

      Title Page

      Copyright Page

      Also By Oscar A McCarthy

      Good Night Primrose

      Sign up for Oscar A McCarthy's Mailing List

      Further Reading: Immortal Blue

      Also By Oscar A McCarthy

      About the Publisher

      Night.

      Rain.

      The low engine hum acted as the pedal point to the endless strikes of soles on pavement, the distant cry, all replaying in a percussive loop, all blanketed under the constant shower of white noise. The impression it created (for it is mere impressions which we feel and the details which one plagiarizes from the imaginations of others) reminded me of the lonely nights in a parlor with the radio across the table. The sounds of distant voices used to reach my ears but not quite reaching through the warm fog of her breath across my ear. Her embrace, the soft brush of an outline of her lips...Grace...

      Enough past tense, I thought. Such an overused perspective, such a mechanic to paint only what one has seen (while guiltily acknowledging I won’t be quite so adamant). I reached and turned a knob, the new rhythms rising over the drones but much quite the same really.

      As every song, not quite indifferent from another.

      But quite different from another, the muffled pulse which slowly grew over a distance. Soon, they would drown the boisterous laughs ringing in the car, screams and yelps, distant echoes of the beat resonating within each of their own chests.

      Man, we gonna get laid tonight! one would say.

      Yeah, dude! This party’s gonna be so sick! echoed the next.

      Nothing left here. We are boys, but soon, we are all men! Well, (cue the awkward pause as I feel the eyes lying on the back of my neck) most of us...

      The energy permeated through the soft glow of combinations of fluorescent and LED light, myself lying as the stark black within. I was clearly not a commoner, rather, perhaps ironically, a stranger to the night.

      What was I here for?

      Escape, I told myself. Because I am not and never will be...there. Because I cannot go back there...

      We reached a spot around two blocks away from the house. Always best to have a buffer, just in case...

      Soon enough, I was standing on the doorstep. What once seemed a distant, small particularity now shook and shattered around in a claustrophobic expanse of air. Hyperactive energy was heard within; this would soon be an interesting night, if I may point out so poignantly.

      I looked back again, back at the darkness which seemed to hold nothing, the darkness which slowly crept before consuming and retreating back from a true consummation. The sun was gone, and there was no light. The stars, so it appeared, had all been snuffed out.

      I stepped inside.

      WHILE THE SENSATIONS of a first glance could easily have been overcrowded with the incredibly dazzling lights, the over confluence of sweaty bodies moving with vigor, the numerous topless containers on the table, the thumping near-blown speakers taking up half the room, and even the smashed ceramic remains lying on the floor, mine, in particular, were drawn to the wonderful décor. The excessively painted walls, the tasteful photographs and paintings, the hanging chandelier covered in paint...this truly was a nice house.

      My acquaintances soon fled forward into the room, loud shouts rising from the crowd. One in my view leaned toward a woman, his back bending with the incredible stress of the effort. He was certainly trying...

      ...and she turned away. I supposed even those self-professed elitists tend to find themselves in the fall.

      I regained my sense of self. The thought in my mind circled endlessly: I am at a party. A party, I am at...

      The scene itself was appalling, yet...alluring. The attitude was all one of instinct, primitivism, all tribal...and yet, industrial in a sense (not to imply innocence). I could feel the energy. Its source was within yet escaped me...I should run with it,

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