Vincent Palmer
Stories (9)
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I Didn’t Care to Listen
I lived in the heart of a tourist coastal city, with fabulous beachfronts and wild nightlife entertainment. The weather was always perfect at night and scorching during the day. Local girls always toyed with the idea of meeting a man from out of the country, during his short visit and desire to do everything in that time span.
By Vincent Palmer about 7 hours ago in Fiction
FOUR WALLS AND NO EXIT
I walked into my place, recently purchased. Some of the furniture was missing, the rest out of place. I dropped the keys on the table into a hand-carved wooden bowl and was greeted by silence and low light. I looked around, scanning, measuring the magnitude of the future work that needed to be done. Work in progress.
By Vincent Palmer about 7 hours ago in Fiction
Burning the Night from Both Ends
The bourbon hit the lips differently today than any other time. I was indulging in a perfect specimen of a cigar, the Padron 1926 Serie No. 90 Maduro, which can hold an ash as long as the cigar itself if you don’t flick it like an amateur. I could still smell the scent of Dior Elixir on me even with all that smoke touching the ceiling. That oud scent, that musk — it always sets the tone just right. But this is not why I was here, contemplating this evening all dressed up, wearing nothing but a custom-tailored grey two-piece suit with a slim-fit solid black dress shirt, cufflinks of course, and ready to go. I had bigger plans.
By Vincent Palmer about 7 hours ago in Fiction
21 Days of Damage
HE had a few days off from stressful, physically and emotionally demanding work. It was 21 days to be exact, and he counted every second of it. Just a short break in-between work contract - something he never did before. Looking back, he didn’t realize how it would alter his whole life, and definitely something he would never do again. But the money was good, the work was flowing with adrenaline and hardship, so the break was well deserved.
By Vincent Palmer about 7 hours ago in Fiction
Advanced Left
I am in the advanced left lane, closest to the curb. Hands gripping the steering wheel. I’m late. Scanning the intersection, waiting for the light to show the green arrow—advanced left. I’m gambling; it might not show the advanced left at all. I need to make this turn.
By Vincent Palmer about 7 hours ago in Fiction
When We Looked Up
I lived in a small town where everything was stale and everyone knew about each other — but not too small that everyone would remember each other. Lots of movement and faded noise from daily activities. The only sense of joy that made you smile came from movies about big, bright cities and stories told by people who traveled anywhere beyond the next two big towns.
By Vincent Palmer about 7 hours ago in Fiction
BREAKFAST
It was one of those mornings. I went to bed late, woke up early. It always gets stuffy in my room in the mornings for some reason; it must be the old carpet. You know, lots of people have allergies to those things, but miraculously, they still install them.
By Vincent Palmer about 7 hours ago in Fiction
The Desire of a Drink
You sit. The spinning stops. The noise fades. Imagine that this place you are in is the place. You visualize; at times, you add more to what you see, just so you can immerse and indulge yourself in a state of perfection and tranquility.
By Vincent Palmer about 7 hours ago in Fiction
