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Short Story / Taxi Drivers
I looked ahead into the street watching the people scurrying around like ants, trying to not be late to their menial jobs. This makes me angry. Self-centered, disrespecting, unforgiving, “I-only-have-time-for-myself” people.
They find time to watch Oprah though.
I pick out my subjects carefully, watching their movements, listening to their cell phone conversations, learning their daily routine. I learn everything about everyone. I’m just a passive observer. I stand here at the corner every day feeding the birds, walking up and down the streets, studying and remembering anything and everything.
My current subject is a lawyer. He cares only for himself, kicking dirt into the eyes of the poor and the middle-class. He is a pig. His entire world revolves around his wallet. He thinks he’s the boss, but today he will learn his lesson.
I stand and walk to my job as a cab driver. This is where it all started, driving the rich snobs to their ten-million dollar mansions, accepting their generous tips and watching them with utter disgust as they walk into their houses, a butler solemnly opening the door for them as they approach. They think they’re invincible but they’re just so paranoid. So paranoid . . .
I sit down in my cab and turn on the ignition, I pan my eyes around the streets until I find him and I drive off.
Late again! I thought checking the watch on my right arm. It read, 4:38. The watch was a digital. I never could read the manual watches. It was the second time this week I was going to be late to a hearing; not good for my client. I look down the street and flagged a cab. Almost immediately one pulled to the curb. I jump in.
“Char . . .”
“Charlotte Courthouse” the man in the driver’s seat said not looking back. He looked oddly familiar but, being an attorney at law you recognize a lot of people you don’t really know. In the seat beside him was a stack of papers and what looked like pictures of some kind. I ignored it though. A man’s entitled to his own space.
“Yeah, yeah. Do I look that much like a lawyer?” My wife’s words leaked into my head, David, shut up! I’m your wife! Not one of your stupid clients! When I married you, you were David McNally . . . now . . . now you’re just David Attorney at Law. Shit, you’re even starting to look like one. I wiped the thought from my memory; I had a case on my hands.
“No David,” the man in the front seat said, “I just know you.”
“What?” This guy’s starting to creep me out. How did he know my name?
“I know more than just your name David,” He’s reading my thoughts! “I know that you’re worried your wife is going to divorce you. She is. The papers will be in tomorrow.”
“How do you – ?”
“I really hate being interrupted. Just listen; your questions will be answered.” And so I sat back and listened to this psycho tell me my entire life story as if he had been there with me. He told me things that only my closest friends would know. I sat in confusion and acute fascination as the man drove me to wherever it was I was going. (I had already forgotten). Then the man was finished. We sat there in silence for what seemed like years when a light went off in my head.
“Has my wife been paying you to follow me? How do you know this about me? Who are you? Did my wife pay you to . . . to kill me?” The man almost laughed out loud at this, which was not the least bit reassuring. I wanted to get out of this idiot’s cab and walk away, but something compelled me to stay.
“No, no my boy. I’m not going to kill you, you did that yourself.” What did he just say? I didn’t think I heard what he said exactly. Not that I wanted to anyway.
“Who are you?” I asked again, leaning toward the man in the driver seat. He had gray hair and a receding hair line, his eyes were small; they seemed to twinkle like a wise Indian elder in those old western movies. They sank into a sea of wrinkles that stretched across his face like tiny hands. His skin was pale as if he were sick; he had splotches of freckles and moles that looked as if pepper had been thrown onto his face. His arms were small and frail looking. His long pale hands wrapped around the steering wheel, his knuckles were white as if he were nervous or concentrating. He had a slight hump in his back but still looked to be about five-nine.
“What does it matter to you who I am?”
“What? Listen, you freak, I’m going to report you to the police. I-”
“If you must know who I am,” He said as if he hadn’t heard a thing I just said, “I am a teacher and a student, a hunter and a listener, a slave and a king. David, I know you better than you know yourself. I know you’re a liar, a cheat. You don’t deserve anything that’s been given to you. You’re a pig! I see the future as a mirror, the past in the shadow.”
This man is insane! I thought. What does he mean he knows me better than I know me and he sees the future as a mirror and the past in the shadow? What does that mean? What else does he know?
Then, as if he had read my thoughts like a book, he said, “I know you cheated on your wife and she found out and now she’s divorcing you. Don’t you think it’s ironic David, that you’ve spent your career taking people to court and now you’ve been taken . . . by your own wife?”
“Shut up!” I said as I slammed my fist against the driver’s seat.
“Hey kid, don’t get mad at me; you’re the one who did this.” He looked at me through the rear-view mirror; his beady little eyes staring at me, penetrating into my being, making me feel naked and afraid.
“Watch.” He said nodding his head toward the street, “a woman wearing a black dress with a fur overcoat will walk by. She’ll hit the hole there by the curb and almost fall. She’s going to IHOP to work, if you look close enough you could see her name tag, ‘Hi, I’m Nichole’ it says.”
I looked through the wind shield to where the man had motioned to and sure enough a woman walked by wearing a black dress and an overcoat, stumbled in the hole in the ground, said a few choice words and walked on. As we drove by I looked at the name tag on her shirt.
Hi, I’m Nichole.
“How did you know that?”
“Shhh, and here comes little Allan. Such a sweet kid. He’s going to run out into the street, a car is going to almost hit him, but luckily the man driving just got new brake pads, so Allan’ll be fine.” And almost on cue everything happened.
Exactly as he said it would.
“How did you know that was going to happen?” I said. I had leaned closer to the man driving the cab. Curiosity killed the cat. I thought, yeah, and persistence was the murder weapon.
“I told you, I see the future as a mirror. I know everything about anyone and anything. I even know your future David.” The man’s last words struck me silent. He said that he knew my future. My future. A flicker of belief crept into my mind but I smothered it with what was possible and impossible.
“I don’t believe you.” I said but, even as I said it, it didn’t sound convincing. This man had read my thoughts or had appeared to read my thoughts, and then the girl, and that kid that was almost run over.
How could he have known?
“Ah, but you will believe David. When I drop you off at the courthouse the judge will have called in sick so there will be a continuance. You won’t make it though. You’ll leave the courthouse and a FedEx truck will drive by, it’ll run over today’s paper. A man wearing a black jacket will come up to you, he knows you. You once defended his brother in a misdemeanor trial. You won’t remember him, but he’s the guy that you heard calling your name yesterday. He’s been gone on a business trip to Tennessee, he’s a truck driver.”
“Then you’ll see a woman with gray hair feeding the birds, she’s a nice lady. Her name is Beth. She’s a bit of a worry-wart though . . . but she’ll like you, she’ll tell you you need to get more sleep though. And then that’s when everything will fall into place.”
I sat in the man’s cab in silence; staring at him as if he were some sort of alien. What is this guy talking about? His cheese has slid off his cracker. He’s got a few loose screws in his head. Not all the lights are on in his house. Why are there only analogies for describing insanity? His PEZ dispenser has run out. His elevator doesn’t go all the way to the top. STOP IT!
The man finally stopped the cab. I looked out the window. I was at the courthouse.
“Here we are.” He said as if we were best friends, “No charge. Just go.” As if I’d pay him anyway, “Oh and by the way David.” He turned in his seat so that he was staring at me directly in the eyes. His wrinkled face was curled into a strange smile. I couldn’t read any emotion on his face.
“You are going to die at 8:35 tonight David.”
I stood in the middle of the street for a moment, staring at the spot where the cab had faded away into the distance.
(You are going to die at 8:35 tonight David.)
My mind refused to accept what I had heard. I was in shock. I’d probably have stood there all day if a man in a car had not blown his horn at me. I walked in a daze onto the sidewalk. My mind sorting and reorganizing the events that had led up to this moment.
I stood a while longer to gather myself and remembered I had a case on my hands. I started up
(The judge will have called in sick-)
the stairs to the courthouse. My secretary greeted me at the door.
“Hello Mr. McNally.”
“Hello Gina. Any news?” I waited for her to answer. Not wanting to hear what she may be about to say but finding myself eager to listen.
“Yes actually, the judge has called in sick today. He’s called for a continuance.” Her words hung in the thin balance of air between us. My mouth fell open and my eyes grew wide. Just like the man said it would happen. No, no . . . anyone could’ve figured that out. All they’d have to do is to come up to the courthouse and check. Yeah, that’s what the man did.
Then why would he have told me?
Subconsciously I took a step back. My hand rose to my forehead; it felt hot and clammy. My hands were shaking. I ran them through my hair and looked down at my feet.
“Mr. McNally? Mr. McNally. Are you okay?”
“Y-yeah, yeah I’m fine . . . I-I just need to get . . . get some fresh air.” I rushed out of the building as if there were no oxygen inside and the only oxygen was outside.
Get a grip David! It’s only a coincidence. Besides, nothing else that the man said has happened yet. I straightened up. Coincidence. That’s exactly what it was. Just a simple coincidence. I looked ahead into the street. A white FedEx truck drove by, running over today’s paper. I watched it roll past, noticing the arrow between the E and the X and then
(a FedEx truck will drive by and run over today’s paper)
with what was similar to a bucket of ice water being dumped on you during a hot summer day. I remembered. It was like having the breath knocked out of me. I toppled forward in the perfect puking position when-
“Hey, David!”
-a hand grabbed my shoulder. I screamed in surprised then stifled it when I turned around to face the man who had grabbed me. He was wearing a black overcoat; his face was splotched with acne.
“David McNally Are you okay man? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.” The man started to laugh.
(a man wearing a black jacket will come up to you-)
“No, no, no.” I whispered horrified.
“Hey,” the man waved his hand in front of my face, “remember me? You-”
(You once defended his brother)
“I defended your brother once.” My voice was flat and lifeless.
“Yeah I’ve been out of town for awhile up in Tennessee. You see I drive a truck for this company and,” I stopped listening to the man and started to walk backwards. The things that the man told me were coming true. The man was telling the truth. No. I will not believe it. Then what? How did he know? How could he have possibly known?
The man was still talking to me. What was he saying?
“-my brother’s doing fine. Every time we talk about money he mentions you. Hey, I tell ya’-” Honestly, I couldn’t care less what the man was saying. All I wanted to do was get away, get away from everything.
I turned away from the man, “Hey, are you all right . . . hello?” I didn’t want to listen anymore, “Are you deaf? Well you’ve gotta be . . . I remember yesterday when I was calling your name . . . you didn’t even turn around – are you sure you’re okay?”
I turned and ran from the man and out into the street; angry drivers blowing their horns at me. I got to the other end of the street. Everything seemed to be spinning. Everything seemed to be closing in on me. Every sound I heard echoed through my mind, rattling my head.
I had to sit down or I was going to fall. I looked around and found a bench and sat down in it. I covered my face with my hands and closed my eye’s until the world stopped being an out of control County Fair ride.
I opened my eyes and stared at the ground. As I looked, a pigeon hopped by my foot and ate a piece of bread lying on the ground. I watched the bird peck at it vigorously until it had diminished into tiny crumbs.
“Hello, there.”
A woman’s voice whispered into my ear beside me. An old woman’s voice. I turned and looked into the eyes of a woman that looked to be in about her late sixty’s early seventy’s. She had gray hair and a very wrinkled face that was curled into a warm and welcoming smile. She was wearing a blue apron and a blue dress that had white lace trim around the edges.
“Hello child. You don’t look too well. Anything wrong?” Her voice was small and it shook at the exact rhythm her hands were shaking. She tossed a piece of bread to the birds who then eagerly ate it up.
“Yes,” I said, “A lot of things are wrong.”
“Oh I know dear,” she waved her hand as if swatting a fly, “with the war and President Bush and all that, honey I just don’t think my little old heart can take anymore of this.” She began to laugh and to my surprise I began to laugh too. Not laughing-laughing but kind of a nervous laugh that one might give during a seminar after the speaker tells a joke you didn’t get but you wanted to impress him so you laugh anyway.
“My name’s Beth.” She held out her hand and
(Her name is Beth.)
as I was taking it I remembered what the man had said and my insides turned cold. My stomach seemed to do aerobics and I thought for sure I was going to throw up but I stifled it before it breached the surface.
“You look tense hon. You know that being tense all the time can cause birth defects and retardation in young.” This I knew was untrue but it still sent a shiver down my spine as cold as ice.
“I-I’ve got to go.” I said, standing up awkwardly to leave.
“Well it was nice talking to you. Go home now and get some sleep, you look as if you could use some more.” She smiled and continued feeding the birds. I walked briskly (to be blunt) as far away from the woman as I possibly could.
And then I saw it.
Standing a few yards in front of me was a figure of a man. The man was staring at me with a sadistic smile smeared across his face.
It was the man in the cab.
My blood ran cold and I began to sweat from every pore in my body. My throat went dry as a desert and I found myself unable to move. I felt a scream form in the depths of my stomach and start to rise to my throat but all that came out was a feeble little yelp similar to that with which a new-born puppy might make.
The man smiled at me and pointed towards the sky. No. Not the sky. I put my hand over my eyes to block the sun so that I could see what the man was pointing at, and when I saw it I almost cried.
He was pointing at a clock on a building. It read,
6:31 pm.
NO IT CAN”T BE! THIS ISN”T HAPPENING! I”VE GOT TO GET OUT OF HERE! Was the last thing I remember thinking before I began to run.
Run away from everything, the man, the nice old lady feeding the birds, everything.
8:35 8:35!
Time was the only thing that my mind allowed in my head. The time until it happened.
I found myself in the woods, somewhere in the woods. I had been running so fast, so hard. Everything seemed to be a blur. I had lost track of time. What time was it? I looked at the watch on my wrist.
7:45
“Noooooo!” The scream erupted from my mouth even before I had had time to register that it was coming. I fell to my knees, crying. Tears fell from my eyes like rain.
Get a grip David! The rational side of my mind spoke up, it may not happen. Just calm down. Calm down! I wiped the tears from my eyes and stood up.
I was shaking all over. My legs felt like Jell-O and I was breathing heavily. My heart seemed to be having tap dance lessons inside my chest with a heavy-metal drummer. My heart was pounding so hard I was sure that at any moment it would burst from my chest and land on the ground before me.
I looked around taking in my surroundings. I was in a forest that I’ve never been in before; it was dense and over grown with vines but the area I was standing in was somewhat clear.
(You’re going to die at 8:35 tonight David)
“No, no, no, no, no. NO!” Everything seemed to start spinning again. The trees around me started closing in and tears once again dive-bombed from my eyes, and that’s when it started.
Voices.
At first they were distant, then, as if someone had just switched on an amp they began to scream at me from inside my head.
(You’re going to die!)
I fell to my knees again and I heard a small beeping sound. For a second I didn’t know where it was coming from but then my eyes drifted downward. To my watch. I brought it up to my eyes. It was a digital.
(Time is drawing nearer!)
I never could read the manual watches. It was beeping because . . . because of what? My mind drifted back to the day I bought it.
(“Yep, it’ll tell you ever hour on the hour by ringing.” The salesman had said.)
8:00!
That means I’ve only got thirty minutes!
Everything was still spinning. My head hurt. I was crying hysterically now. I tried to stand but stumbled and fell into the ground. It sent
(Prepare yourself David!)
shockwaves of pain through my body. I was going to die!
But how?
This thought sent a new wave of terror through my body causing it to jerk convulsively on the ground. How will it happen?
The man had told me the time it would happen but not how. How? I opened my mouth and regurgitated
(Closer now! Closer now David!)
onto the forest floor.
What horrific way of death would I be subjected to? I looked around and another wave of terror sent chills down my spine.
I was in a forest.
Alone.
All except for the animals.
Visions of wolves coming and ripping me apart piece by piece filled my head. Of getting lost and dying of dehydration. Or starvation. Maggots feeding on my cold lifeless body, building nests in my nostrils and my eye sockets. Flies swarming around me and then diving into my mouth and then into my stomach living there for weeks, maybe even months.
I couldn’t take it anymore. I felt dizzy and had the feeling of falling and drowning.
(8:25)
Then my hand landed on an object in my pocket. It was
(You’re going to die soon David! You’re going insane!)
cold and metallic. I reached in and pulled it out and a soft insane, hysterical laugh escaped my mouth permeating through the forest. It seemed
(The animals in the forest are going to mutilate you and then feast on you like the Hoos did at the end of How the Grinch Stole Christmas)
that all the animals in the forest had gone quiet.
In my hand was a Glock 9mm handgun. I had picked it up at my house before running to the forest.
I raised it to my eyes, still laughing. I could not accept the death that may happen to me by the man. I just need to end this. End my suffering.
(End it David!)
(Do it!)
(You insane little freak!)
(Die Die!)
(Ha Ha Do it! Do it David!)
I put the gun underneath my chin and squeezed the trigger. There was an ear- shattering bang as a bullet burst from the barrel of the gun and into my head. I fell onto the ground, blood spilling all over the place.
I lay with my head turned sideways staring at the clock on my wrist.
(8:35)
I should be dead.
(8:36)
(8:37)
Blood was beginning to form in a little puddle around my head; some of it ran up into my ear.
The man was wrong!
The thought didn’t strike me at first but then, as the blood began to clot in my hair and stick into my ear and as I watched time tick away; past the time the man predicted my death.
I remembered.
The papers on the passenger seat of the man’s cab were . . . they were . . . what were they? My mind seemed to be in a fog.
Notes!
Notes of some kind, and pictures.
(Hi, I’m Nichole.)
A picture of that woman, and the kid, and of Beth. Then the pieces of the puzzle fell into place.
(“I know everything about anyone and anything.”)
I began to sob. Sobs that were choked with blood. The man in the cab must’ve just . . . must’ve just memorized
(8:40)
everyone’s routine. The man did look familiar . . . I’ve seen him . . . watching people . . . memorizing people. The puddle of blood had reached my wrist now and darkness was beginning to ascend upon me. I was dying.
The final thought that came through my head before my last breath escaped my lungs was:
I’ve been fooled. I killed myself over nothing because I’m so paranoid, just so paranoid. Goodbye . . . goodbye . . .
And then it was over.
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Brybrad reviewed Version 1 -
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First, I must say I liked the story very much. It grabbed my interest right away and I definitely wanted to see how it was going to turn out. The basic plot is very well done.
Now for the criticism. I didn’t really understand the purpose of starting the story from one point-of-view and then switching to another for the remainder. I was expecting you to go back and forth between them, but when you didn’t do that, I was expecting the taxi-driver to speak again at the end. When that didn’t happen either, it left me wondering the reason for his pov at the beginning. This wasn’t a major flaw, but it bothered me some.
The ending became predictable a little too early, but overall this was a fine story. I will recommend it to others.
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rpadilla reviewed Version 1 -
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this was outrageously entertaining to read quite disturbing but very creative to present. I find it to be very brilliant. Somewhat of an original idea, it almost reads like a movie I once seen. I can not recall the title that comes close to it. Perhaps, it should be publish in Literature Magazine, see where it goes from there
thedudeabides reviewed Version 1 -
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After the first paragraph, combined with the title I thought you were going with a Travis Bickle type story of latent and impotent anger turned into something malignant. But you went in a far less conventional direction which I liked though it felt like an abrupt and unexplained change suddenly when your perspective shifts to that of the lawyer.
And once you do decide to go with a jarring change of 1st person character and glide through the entire story from that new character’s perspective (the lawyer) I think for the sake of continuity you need to then at least close with a switch back to the taxi driver’s perspective for some kind of denouement.
But overall your execution was good and some of your insights and descriptions exceeded the reach of most people your age. It felt like you had some genuine experience with some of these dirtier elements of life such as divorce even if 2nd hand. And I especially liked some of your descriptive techniques. That of the cab driver showed a studied eye on your part and the line about the old womans voice shaking in rhythm with her hands shaking blew me away. The heart-heavy metal drummer recalls itself to me right now as well.
Some of the dialogue didn’t feel separated enough for me. But that’s one of the hardest things for any writer at any point in their career to do well so you’re on an ok track there.
I do think the lawyers reaction an extreme one but this is fiction and your character so you can define the lengths he’d go to if put in such a situation.
Chris_Cuga reviewed Version 1 -
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This was good. However, in the begining I originally believed you were a taxi-driver, and then you were… taking a cab. Also, you refered to the omnipotent cab driver as a psycho… I kind of figured he’d be more majestical.
A plus times 20 for creativity, however. At no point was this boring, and the absolute fear that David had of death was what made him do it – irrational of him, but relatable. This really is awesome, a few gramatical errors, but an excellent all-around story.
The_August_Kid reviewed Version 1 -
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I did enjoy this piece. I thought it was pretty original and pretty well written. I liked how much dialogue was in the story and how you concentrated a lot more on that and didn’t have so much narrative in it. For longer pieces like this, that’s always a good thing. Cause it get difficulted to read through thousands of words of just plain narrative. This makes it easy on the eyes and makes it a simple, easier read through. Not to mention your writing is very simplstic and conscise. You don’t rely so much on bogging down the reader with big words and hefty metaphors and similes. I suggest you really try to polish this piece up as well as you can. I can definitely see it going places.
awkwardvibes reviewed Version 1 -
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I found this just extremely hard to follow. The formatting is the obvious problem, but the story itself is so franetic and unfocused it makes the readers head hurt. And you just tell us what’s happening, not show us, over and over so it becomes repetitive. I had to go back and reread a bunch of things to make sure I knew what the hell was going on. Take a red pen and start slashing what you don’t need. Pared down, this is at least moderately interesting.
aharddayswrite reviewed Version 1 -
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Interesting, neat little story. I thoroughly enjoyed this; you kept your pacing and sucked me in so that I read eagerly until the end. I felt like I was devouring the words; as soon as I connected with David and his situation I immediately wanted to know what was going to happen to him. Good character development, nice idea.
Now for some critiquing. There were only a couple of rough spots, and several great ones. I especially enjoyed these lines, which I found highly original: ”...then feast on you like the Hoos did at the end of How the Grinch Stole Christmas”, “looked as if pepper had been thrown onto his face”, and, my personal favorite: “Not laughing-laughing but kind of a nervous laugh that one might give during a seminar after the speaker tells a joke you didn’t get but you wanted to impress him so you laugh anyway.” I actually did laugh at that line. You rarely see originality these days and this one was not to be passed up. However, you detract from that originality in your story through using tired or cliched descriptions, such as “closed my eyes until the world stopped being an out of control County Fair ride” and “my legs felt like Jell-O.” I’d take those out.
I enjoyed the ending. It was unexpected, as I had hoped, but not sensational. I think it could use a rewrite to be a little more suspenseful. Instead of opting for complete dramatics in the final scene, you might have gone for a still hyper-paranoid, irrational David, but decribed more of what he was feeling as he spins out of control (heart racing, sweating, adrenaline rushing, etc.) I think it would make this part more effective, and further pack the final punch of the ending.
Overall, an original story. Keep up the nice work.
squarehopper reviewed Version 1 -
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Never switch from one first person point of view to another! It marks you as an amateur.
You need to stay on one character. Remove the whole beginning with the Taxi Driver thinking. It is not needed.
Edit for grammar and other simple issues.
You need to expand this a little more. It is very rushed throughout.
Change the time of death to be in keeping when court is actually held. 10:30 would work better.
The gun being there… not fair… should be foreshadowed before. Can’t pull rabbits out of the hat like that. We need set up.
Build the suspense up more.
I would like to see a re-worked version. This can be a part of a series of the taxi-driver. He led this one to kill himself, maybe in another he helps Nicole with a life goal?
Good luck!
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