The official website of writer Alexander Bjørn

ABK Stories

Writer’s Cafe 1

These stories are direct from the mouths of what happens here at the writer’s cafe. They can be a little NSFW- so… Enjoy!

Motel Tonight?

Writer’s Cafe 12019/03/01

Your face said that it didn’t matter where we went, because it was the destination that was the point. Would the truck outlast us? Your body relaxed and almost detached from our world. I couldn’t help but to smile myself. “Motel tonight?” I was nervous for some reason that you might say no.

Sometime in the late afternoon, the canyon spat us out. Then I made you pull off onto a side street. I found the familiar red fire escape with it hanging, waiting, hanging waiting. I was thinking like a snake, or a stick, or a pole.

In the end, it was like a dragon cock.

“I was gifted in elementary school too, but then it grew.”

“That’s what happens to me when I walk into church.” I said.

I tightened the bandana around my face. And made sure I could produce enough iron and steel to afford your pay. Wielding canes, clubs, and sticks- “Tell me I should get back to work. I got large heavy boots for a large heavy man.”

I swung my elbow into your face, and my disguise was no more. You stepped back from my blow and I swung my fist into your gut. I rushed past you, cane in hand. I made my way up the stairs to the metal walkway, and I hid behind a stack of crates. When I heard your feet, I swung hard at them. You fell, and I continued my way down the walkway. I quietly rushed into the office where the door had been left open.

“If there are any unionists still working about, I’ll give them something to work for.” I said to myself. I put the cane down and grabbed a letter opener from the desk. I sheathed it into my belt and crouched forward. I counted to three, and you were there.

You turned to me and your face twisted into fear as I pulled out and jammed the letter opener into your throat. I went back into the office, took the cane, and left. I made my way to the street where my cousin Tommy waited with a wagon.


On Fridays we have a writer’s get together on campus. This is the first in a narrative series of what we said.

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