I'm going to post a couple of stories I've been writing for a while and see if anyone is interested in reading the rest. Here is the first one and the first thing I wrote with the idea of other people reading it. I've gotten good feedback for the most part with a couple of exceptions. Let me know what you think and thanks in advance for taking the time....
Nicky contemplates the nicotine stains on his fingertips, and wonders if bleach will really remove them, as Stacy asks him for the fourth time if he wants to go out for dinner or order in. 'Killing In The Name Of' by Rage Against the Machine pumps out of the hi-tech stereo system in an otherwise relatively unfurnished apartment. A bare bulb hangs from the ceiling.
Stacy's voice takes on the strident quality he loathes as she begins to ask him about dinner for a fifth time. Nicky finally looks up from his in depth study of his fingers, and sighs, "Whatever, I really don't care Stace,"he says. He notices a pinhole in his tuxedo shirt that he wears un-tucked over a pair of washed out jeans as she slams the door shut behind her, leaving. Things have been deteriorating between them the past few weeks. He senses the end of their time together, and wonders why he doesn't care more. He stubs out the cigarette he was smoking and fishes a joint out of his pocket and lights up, switching the stereo to some vintage rock from The Who. Sitting on the carpet with his back to the wall, Nicky just can'tt seem to care about anything too terribly much today. In fact, he doesn't feel any motivation to move from one minute to the next on most days. His green eyes coupled with his jet black hair and added to an attractive smile keep him from spending much time without a girl in his bed. Thinking of Stacy, he briefly considers calling her on her cell to ask her to pick up a pack of smokes while she's out, then reconsiders. Deciding it wouldn't be worth the latest edition of 'The Gospel according to Stacy' he would have to wade through, he decides to ditch her for now and get something to eat. He pushes himself to his feet, and takes a large draw off of the joint he is smoking. Stifling a cough and holding in the smoke, he walks to the stereo to turn it off.
As he walks to the bathroom to take a piss, the earlier scene with Stacy replays in his mind, this time with an alternate finish.
"Nicky, do you want to go out to eat, or order in, godammit!?!?!" Suddenly Nicky jumps up from his slouch against the wall, pulling the hunting knife out of his boot, and viciously thrusts it into Stacy's chest, again, and again. Blood spurts warmly onto his hand, his arm, and splatters his chest, staining his white tuxedo shirt in a pattern he finds strangely beautiful. Stacy's screams fill the apartment. Nicky realizes he enjoys the sound of Stacy screaming in horror and pain as much as he hates the sound of her talking....the stereo plays on in the background.
Nicky contemplates the nicotine stains on his fingertips, and wonders if bleach will really remove them, as Stacy asks him for the fourth time if he wants to go out for dinner or order in. 'Killing In The Name Of' by Rage Against the Machine pumps out of the hi-tech stereo system in an otherwise relatively unfurnished apartment. A bare bulb hangs from the ceiling.
Stacy's voice takes on the strident quality he loathes as she begins to ask him about dinner for a fifth time. Nicky finally looks up from his in depth study of his fingers, and sighs, "Whatever, I really don't care Stace,"he says. He notices a pinhole in his tuxedo shirt that he wears un-tucked over a pair of washed out jeans as she slams the door shut behind her, leaving. Things have been deteriorating between them the past few weeks. He senses the end of their time together, and wonders why he doesn't care more. He stubs out the cigarette he was smoking and fishes a joint out of his pocket and lights up, switching the stereo to some vintage rock from The Who. Sitting on the carpet with his back to the wall, Nicky just can'tt seem to care about anything too terribly much today. In fact, he doesn't feel any motivation to move from one minute to the next on most days. His green eyes coupled with his jet black hair and added to an attractive smile keep him from spending much time without a girl in his bed. Thinking of Stacy, he briefly considers calling her on her cell to ask her to pick up a pack of smokes while she's out, then reconsiders. Deciding it wouldn't be worth the latest edition of 'The Gospel according to Stacy' he would have to wade through, he decides to ditch her for now and get something to eat. He pushes himself to his feet, and takes a large draw off of the joint he is smoking. Stifling a cough and holding in the smoke, he walks to the stereo to turn it off.
As he walks to the bathroom to take a piss, the earlier scene with Stacy replays in his mind, this time with an alternate finish.
"Nicky, do you want to go out to eat, or order in, godammit!?!?!" Suddenly Nicky jumps up from his slouch against the wall, pulling the hunting knife out of his boot, and viciously thrusts it into Stacy's chest, again, and again. Blood spurts warmly onto his hand, his arm, and splatters his chest, staining his white tuxedo shirt in a pattern he finds strangely beautiful. Stacy's screams fill the apartment. Nicky realizes he enjoys the sound of Stacy screaming in horror and pain as much as he hates the sound of her talking....the stereo plays on in the background.
riae:
Thanks for the nice comment on my new set 