obsoletism

A silly little story I started. . . doubt I'll be able to finish it though.

Meh. Have a look see.



The world is dying, didnt you know? was the venomous reply.
Gavin had asked a stupid question, so he deserved a ridiculous reply. At that moment, his mind pushed off from the ephemeral dock of reality. The stuff was good, he had to admit, but there was no compensating for what he was feeling that day. Imaginary pain seemed to course through his body just as fast as the chemical did. Unnatural calm paralyzed him and allowed him to behold the bewildering sight. In his eyes, the worlds aura collapsed. In his ears, he could hear the screams. In his mouth, he could taste the blood. The invisible boatman that guided his mind to safety, to the other end of the river of drug abuse, must have died, and turbulent waves rocked his consciousness, jarring what little coherency that remained. The vision gently faded away as easily as they came, and he passed out.
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The backyard ambiance of the alley was marred a bit; as our unconventional hero regained all the wavering consciousness he could muster. Loosing consciousness wasnt his idea of a nice night, but what was? Gavin was a junkie, nothing more, and yet, nothing less, and another night sleeping in an alley wouldnt change that. All he could hope was that what little money he had was still shoved safely into his socks, and he had all of his limbs. Check and check. In this era and in this neighborhood, the all-around thought, which passed through peoples minds when they saw a person passed out in an alley, was to leave the poor bastard alone and hope he dies before he wakes up. There wasnt quite a shortage of people like him, and, being the lowest rung of the lifestyle ladder, no one cared if a few showed up missing.
Ah, another fabulous day in the neighborhood, was muttered as the fallens arms spread wide to the blue-gray sky. Around here, optimism was the driving force of most people that could afford it, and another waking day in this hell-hole was always a fabulous day. Deep wells of sleep-deprivation took in the familiar environment of the back alley, which he spent most of his nights, or days. It was always the same, dark stains littered building walls and the concrete pathways, and the same bundles of sullied cloth that marked the other forms of humanity that took residence on his street. The buildings that surrounded the street were tall, and kept the alley in the shade and in reclusion, when it was needed.
Another fabulous day, was repeated, more in spite than to reaffirm his previous comment, and now its time to get some breakfast. The ladder was more muddled as an afterthought. The weather tried to be good to our scorned hero today; the sun shone bright, but there was an underlying wind that cut threw flesh and chilled the bone; it was a common fall day in the city, nothing too surprising. Worn Converse sneakers brought Gavin to his feet and sent him out to search for much-required sustenance.
Hm, so what shall we dine on today? It wasnt a question. He already knew what he would eat; it was what he ate everyday. Soup. Not that it was bad, it was quite tasty. Though the people of the city didnt care for the homeless, they tended to keep their homeless, at least, content in this city, or thats what Gavin thought. Dried lips curled into a smile at his misfortune, and nervous hands darted into his torn overcoat, which was his only protection from the elements. That morning, Gavin was a bit too strung-out then he would have liked. Last night or the parts he could remember, shook him up pretty badly. The memory of what he saw was burned into his mind and scar tissue screamed at him, but then again what could he do about it. Childhood precautions forced him to glance up and down the street that intersected the alley before he crossed. The local soup kitchen was on one of the corners of Destinys Crossing, the intersection between heaven and hell as far as he was concerned. The paths that traveled north and east led to salvation, and also somewhere that Gavin couldnt travel. Profiling and corrupt police officials made the journey a dangerous one. Being on the streets was a punishment, but being in a cell was damnation. The opposite paths of the crossing, the ones to the south and west, led back into the heart of Hells Kitchen, A bloody common name for the bad parts of cities, Gavin would always say. Too much conformation, A thought that sickened his stomach. The soup kitchen was more of a weigh station, separating Destinys Crossing. It was a semi-large structure with over-sized windows revealing the promised roads to the condemned. A horrible kind of torture entwined in a horrible kind of hope. Hope for more than what they could have, and hope for what they could achieve.
Squeaking steps kept him in stride, which allowed his mind to wander a bit. The heros shaking hands restlessly fondled a cardboard pack that contained tiny, life-giving gods and the tool for their systematic destruction. Hinds blood, it wasnt, but the translucent-pink lighter did the trick. The dry gravel steps he took seemed to echo in his skull and his hunger returned. Nicotine couldnt fill him, but it could always tide him over. Calloused fingers grasped at the endangered beings in the box and plucked one from its habitat. It transferred from shaking hands to creaking lips, trapped in the clutches of blood-stained tiers. The lighter followed and with one zip the god was set ablaze. Inhale. Exhale. That sublimed death suited him for now, but not for long.
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The general atmosphere of the intersection of Main and 5th was more cheery then the alleys that formed a concrete web around it. The buildings werent so imposing around the circle intersection, and the sun shone magnificently, almost blinding the eyes. In the center of the same circle of road that made the crossing, were a small park and a commemorative fountain adorning its center, the eye of the storm? Benches and shaded pathways littered the lush grasses of the park, which was ironically names Beacon Park; a beacon for the citizens and an example of how life should be. Transparent tensions rose from the ground of the park, like weeds. Constricting the beauty and killing the plants. There was a perpetual unseen hatred that flowed through the people and things, prejudice that was blind to skin color and creed, but focused on social standings. Some called it the perfect mentality, but nothing was ever perfect. More recently, the park had been the sleeping quarters for the more rebellious squatters of the city, mostly the spoiled, neo-punk, anarchist pricks that actually had a warm bed somewhere else. These kinds of people wanted to show their distaste for the system and show society that they could do without the system until the system arrested them. Cynthia didnt follow this certain belief, but just like a gang, they were a group of people that could watch your back, and she did quite like the park. Sapphire blue tendrils drifted out of an old army jacket that she had thrown over her the night previous, using it as a crude blanket. The nights in the park, were relatively peaceful, yet not as reclusive as her tall, gloomy counterparts part of town, and she, being a social butterfly at times, liked the company of other humans every once in a while. The dormant jacket was jabbed, the blow hitting right in her ribs and it made her jump from the feeble attempts of sleep she tried to make. Delicate digits ran over the pain in her ribs and complimenting blue eyes gazed up at her perpetrator, as she made an attempt to sit up.
Hello, sweetie, honeyed tones rolled off her velvet tongue with ease. She picked up the proficiency from conning her mummy and daddy out of more money every month.
Dont you Hello, sweetie me, Gavin snapped playfully in retort Another teasing jab fell in one of Cynthias more ticklish spots, Ive caught on to your little games, you know.
A small squeak leapt from her lithe form. Soft and gentle hands trying to bat away the attacks, Yes, yes, I know, but that doesnt stop me from trying, thin lips caressing the reply back to him, her eyes noted the low position of the hanging sun absently.
What time is it? Why did you wake me up so early?
I thought you could use something to eat, and I could sure use the company. Anyway, you know patrollers will be all over this place in the morning, Ive heard from Teddy that theres been another stabbing around the northern end, near Heaven, and you know how the coppers love to interrogate pretty, young things like you. Sarcastically put, but it did hold some truth to it, and that worried him.
I can take care of myself, you know that, Thin brows bobbed up and down at her pale companion and a star-burst pattern eyelash batted down into a wink. There wasnt any use in worrying Gavin more, but to try to assure him that she was fine.
Well, she-hulk, get your jacket on, his hands grabbing at the jacket and throwing it over her head deftly, We have a ways to go to get to Bubbas. I still dont understand why you sleep so Heaven-ward in the park and not closer to Dawbs side, or at least near Griegs fountain. Its a real pain in the ass to come get you every morning. Turning away from her bench and Conversed feet slid towards the fountain and Grieg-ward.
I like it here, and I dont care how near to Heaven I get, That same velvet tongue shot out at him, just to get a taste of her worn coat getting thrown at her. Slipping the extra-large coat over her extra-small frame, she ran after him. Upon reaching his side, her arm instinctively sliding around his crooked elbow and her head slid onto his, reveling in the warmth and comfort. As in most every situation, the buddy system always applied. Being alone was relatively safe, but being in pairs was safe, and above all, if people thought you were involved, you were safest of all. Honor. Twisted samurai in Converse shoes and over-sized army jackets that tried to scrape along the bottom rung.