This is a story I wrote so long ago. I was probably like 15 when I penned these words. I adore the story though. I think I did a pretty good job with making a base story. I never finished it, of course. I think it's time to edit it.
-------
He hands me a Marlboro cigarette and tells me to take a drag. His hand quivers slightly and his eyes are barely open. I decline, feeling embarrassed. Is this what it's all about? Dinky, I think that is his name, is the shadow of human sorrow. Black curly locks hang down his forehead and all over his head, reaching beyond the nape of his neck. He's thin and as transparent as a mythical creature. He wears all black, making his skin glow like some annoying bright light situated in a dark room. Sitting on worn, brown couch beside me, he attempts to engage in conversation. The music blaring, teenagers mingling, everyone is making out. He sits there unusually still. I don't know anything about this guy.
"Shitty nightlife." he comments stretching his long branchlike legs. I barely turn my head towards him. I am hoping my dark skin will blend with the dimness and darkness of the room. But he is a night creature. He can see right through me.
"It's the music." I reply in a shallow voice. I'm afraid to speak, to be noticed. I want to fade in the background. Hot air succumbs to the tunes of some foreign rock band.
"Hate rock?" he invokes. The voice reflects no emotion, not the least bit of shock. I shake my head at his comment.
"I like music that means something. Doesn't matter what type. It just has to mean something."
"Meaningful." he remarked dryly. "What the hell is meaningful? ******** it. Children's nursery rhymes are fine with me." He stares into nothingness. I laugh softly. He responds to that and glances me over.
"What do you think?" I ask, just above a whisper I'm gradually opening up to his presence. "About the party?"
He takes a long drag off his cigarette.
"******** up." He said exhaling a thin cloud of smoke into the air. "Everyone's having sex but me. You into that?"
I glance in his direction and shake my head once more. "No. I'm not into that. I have a lot of self respect." He smiles and curiosity sparkles in his eyes.
"s**t, You're the first girl to admit something like that to me."
"Oh?" I return his smile. "Is that something most girls are ashamed of? Should I be ashamed?"
"You shouldn't be." He says. He inhales and exhales a large cloud of white smoke. The silence hangs in the air for several long moments. I take a long look at him and for a moment, a moment so clear, I can see right through him. I can see his soul, a ball of dark energy. It entrances me. Finally, he realizes his vulnerability because he quickly draws up.
"Sorry." I apologize, glancing away. His eyes are dark and searching for a while. It makes me want to recoil.
"s**t. That's okay." He answers. "So can I have your phone number?"
 Chahklat · Sat Aug 01, 2009 @ 04:56am · 1 Comments |
