This was a story i started writing two years ago, after coming back from new orleans. I always wanted to fix it or to finish it but i never could. I don't usually post my stories up because i never think they're any good...but ill try to start doing so.
Chapter I..:
It was just another night out in the Jazzy city of New Orleans. Bourbon Street was thriving as usual, with its colorful display of drunken frat boys, rainbow banners, and fat ladies showing their all. The smell of fermented beer and vomit tainted the air with its lingering aroma, while the smell of rotten food items flowed from the over whelming trash left out on the corner from nearby pubs. Beautiful, some how this lust driven city was the most beautiful place she had ever seen. Maybe it was the southern comfort getting to her head, but she knew she could never leave this god forsaken place even if her life depended on it.
Chapter II
She stood there soaked from the heavy rain with her lips parched from the cold. As she stared at her pruning fingers, she knew in her mind what she had to do, and no matter how long she had to wait, she was willing. Hidden in the shadows of the dark alley she waitedshe saw him staggering towards her half drunk; his hair was a stringy mess, and the stubble on his face made him look older than he really was. Disgusted by the sight of him she looked away for a moment to settle her stomach. There was a thud, and the sound of trash cans falling over, when she looked back she saw him face first in a puddle of water. Now what to do? She had waited hours in that rat infested alley only to lose her victim to his own addiction. Great. She knew even though she would probably regret not killing him on the spot, she'd rather dismiss her own better judgment and drag him down the alley to her car. As she pulled him into her car as best as she could, accidentally hitting his head on the roof, he started to stir
"What the hell, aw my head, it feels like I got hit with a fucking brickwhere the hell am I"
Speak. Noting came out, no words, no sound, nothing. What could she say without him recognizing her? Without him discovering who she was
"Who are you?"
He was looking at her, still heavily intoxicated. His vision was obviously blurry, because he kept referring to her as "hey man!" Half struggling she finished pushing him inside the Mustang, shut the door, walked over to the driver's side, got in, and turned on the ignition. He smelled like shit. She kept thinking if she didn't breathe, she wouldn't puke all over her leather interior. She hit the gas, and sped off down the street. She remembered everything, where he lived, what apartment, where he hid his extra set of keys, and even where he hid his extra cash, his left dress shoe in the closet.
It was hard trying to get him up the stairs, dragging him by his feet did no good because it chanced his head getting cracked open on the brick stairs, not that that would be a bad thing, but there wouldn't be any fun in it. She grabbed him from underneath his arms and pulled him step by step to the front door, by the time she had gotten to the top her arms had started to ache tremendously from the weight of his heavy body. She didn't remember him being this heavy; oh wait a minute that's because she was always on top. She looked inside of the plant container for the spare key, found it, and carefully unlocked the door. He still wasn't fully awake, but she did notice the way his eyes squinted when she flipped on the hall way light.
She hurried towards the bathroom and turned the bath water on. Cold. Her exact emotions towards him, she dragged him from the hallway to the bathroom. There she pealed off his articles of clothing and rolled him into the tub. She had never had such a good laugh as that moment when he hit the cold water, and woke up instantly
Chapter III
"What the hell!" He was pissed, she was laughing.
He was staring at her, still a little drowsy but awake.
"Wait, who are youI know you from somewhere" Her eyes widened. Shocked, she couldn't believe he had forgotten her, the ass had forgotten who she was, and where they had met.
"Yeah, you know me," she was irritated. He started to get up from the bathtub but sat back down from dizziness. He stared at her yet again, observing, taking her in. She was beautiful. Not the kind of "beauty" that you see in Hollywood, not at all, she was ruff around the edges, but something about her made her easy on the eyes, maybe it was her smile, maybe her voice, or maybe it was the way she stared back at him, like she could see straight through his very soul and she wasn't afraid.
"Well I'll be going now." As she started to walk away, he started to rise from the bath tub yet again. He noticed his fingers were already starting to prune from the water so he quickly grabbed a towel, wrapped it around him and hobbled after her as she walked towards the front door.
He grabbed her wrist, "wait a sec, how the hell did you know where I live, and how did you get me herewait who are you?" wrenching her hand away she pulled open the door, and ran down the stairs.
She was gone, gone from his life, from his bathroom, from his apartment. Damn. He didn't even know her, yet something inside felt at loss. After staring off for a while, he finally decided I'd be best to close the door, she wasn't coming back, and so he bolted the top, walked slowly over to his couch, he laid down, and flipped the tele on. Infomercials, how he dreaded the thought of turning on the television on to find nothing but infomercials on, yet here he was late Saturday night.
She was in her car, heading back towards Bourbon Streeteverything felt upside down, nothing had turned out quite like she had wanted it to, and right now all she needed was a drinkwhat was she suppose to do now? The job was supposed to be easy. Simple. Quick. And instead it turned out to be more like a blast from the past. Plan B.
If you took the time to read it, it's not much but let me know if u think its a good start. or bad.
Chapter I..:
It was just another night out in the Jazzy city of New Orleans. Bourbon Street was thriving as usual, with its colorful display of drunken frat boys, rainbow banners, and fat ladies showing their all. The smell of fermented beer and vomit tainted the air with its lingering aroma, while the smell of rotten food items flowed from the over whelming trash left out on the corner from nearby pubs. Beautiful, some how this lust driven city was the most beautiful place she had ever seen. Maybe it was the southern comfort getting to her head, but she knew she could never leave this god forsaken place even if her life depended on it.
Chapter II
She stood there soaked from the heavy rain with her lips parched from the cold. As she stared at her pruning fingers, she knew in her mind what she had to do, and no matter how long she had to wait, she was willing. Hidden in the shadows of the dark alley she waitedshe saw him staggering towards her half drunk; his hair was a stringy mess, and the stubble on his face made him look older than he really was. Disgusted by the sight of him she looked away for a moment to settle her stomach. There was a thud, and the sound of trash cans falling over, when she looked back she saw him face first in a puddle of water. Now what to do? She had waited hours in that rat infested alley only to lose her victim to his own addiction. Great. She knew even though she would probably regret not killing him on the spot, she'd rather dismiss her own better judgment and drag him down the alley to her car. As she pulled him into her car as best as she could, accidentally hitting his head on the roof, he started to stir
"What the hell, aw my head, it feels like I got hit with a fucking brickwhere the hell am I"
Speak. Noting came out, no words, no sound, nothing. What could she say without him recognizing her? Without him discovering who she was
"Who are you?"
He was looking at her, still heavily intoxicated. His vision was obviously blurry, because he kept referring to her as "hey man!" Half struggling she finished pushing him inside the Mustang, shut the door, walked over to the driver's side, got in, and turned on the ignition. He smelled like shit. She kept thinking if she didn't breathe, she wouldn't puke all over her leather interior. She hit the gas, and sped off down the street. She remembered everything, where he lived, what apartment, where he hid his extra set of keys, and even where he hid his extra cash, his left dress shoe in the closet.
It was hard trying to get him up the stairs, dragging him by his feet did no good because it chanced his head getting cracked open on the brick stairs, not that that would be a bad thing, but there wouldn't be any fun in it. She grabbed him from underneath his arms and pulled him step by step to the front door, by the time she had gotten to the top her arms had started to ache tremendously from the weight of his heavy body. She didn't remember him being this heavy; oh wait a minute that's because she was always on top. She looked inside of the plant container for the spare key, found it, and carefully unlocked the door. He still wasn't fully awake, but she did notice the way his eyes squinted when she flipped on the hall way light.
She hurried towards the bathroom and turned the bath water on. Cold. Her exact emotions towards him, she dragged him from the hallway to the bathroom. There she pealed off his articles of clothing and rolled him into the tub. She had never had such a good laugh as that moment when he hit the cold water, and woke up instantly
Chapter III
"What the hell!" He was pissed, she was laughing.
He was staring at her, still a little drowsy but awake.
"Wait, who are youI know you from somewhere" Her eyes widened. Shocked, she couldn't believe he had forgotten her, the ass had forgotten who she was, and where they had met.
"Yeah, you know me," she was irritated. He started to get up from the bathtub but sat back down from dizziness. He stared at her yet again, observing, taking her in. She was beautiful. Not the kind of "beauty" that you see in Hollywood, not at all, she was ruff around the edges, but something about her made her easy on the eyes, maybe it was her smile, maybe her voice, or maybe it was the way she stared back at him, like she could see straight through his very soul and she wasn't afraid.
"Well I'll be going now." As she started to walk away, he started to rise from the bath tub yet again. He noticed his fingers were already starting to prune from the water so he quickly grabbed a towel, wrapped it around him and hobbled after her as she walked towards the front door.
He grabbed her wrist, "wait a sec, how the hell did you know where I live, and how did you get me herewait who are you?" wrenching her hand away she pulled open the door, and ran down the stairs.
She was gone, gone from his life, from his bathroom, from his apartment. Damn. He didn't even know her, yet something inside felt at loss. After staring off for a while, he finally decided I'd be best to close the door, she wasn't coming back, and so he bolted the top, walked slowly over to his couch, he laid down, and flipped the tele on. Infomercials, how he dreaded the thought of turning on the television on to find nothing but infomercials on, yet here he was late Saturday night.
She was in her car, heading back towards Bourbon Streeteverything felt upside down, nothing had turned out quite like she had wanted it to, and right now all she needed was a drinkwhat was she suppose to do now? The job was supposed to be easy. Simple. Quick. And instead it turned out to be more like a blast from the past. Plan B.
If you took the time to read it, it's not much but let me know if u think its a good start. or bad.