Post by Some dipshit on Oct 15, 2010 15:51:19 GMT -5
Yeah, I wanted to jump on the SCAWWY STOWIES bandwagon for this Halloween, so here it goes. Send questions, compliments, textual fellations, criticism, hate, death threats, etc. to me via PM.
So far a WIP.
-------------------
I glance at my watch one more. It's six to four.
It's a cold, rainy day. I rush to the train station. Like every day. I can't miss my train.
I arrive to the station. Just in time.
Like every time i walk into a train, I look both ways before sitting. I make sure nobody is following me. Not that anybody would be following me. It's just a precaution.
The wagon is not very crowded. It never is. There is only a short boy with a flat cap and a lazy eye. He's got a big bag. It's full of papers
My fingers twitch a bit. I'm a bit impatient. This train is old and a bit unkempt, so it's very slow, and it's noisy and rusty. Grime everywhere. The windows are almost translucent. It moans and screeches as it leave sthe platform.
Like every time I'm on a train, I glance around to look at the other passengers.
I look at the kid again. He looks at me. He looks like he's trying to say something, but he stops himself. He opens his mouth time and time again, and he closes it. He breathes deep and looks at me. With one eye.
He asks me if there is something wrong. I ask why. He points his finger. It's my leg. Shaking. Moving. Tapping my shoe against the floor.
It shakes and jerks a little. I put my hand on it. It stops moving. I breathe. I'm a little nervous. But I smile for the kid. To reassure him.I say it's just the rain and the cold. I do my best to look friendly. The kid smiles too, and drops the subject.
He remains silent for the rest of the journey. He looks away.
With one eye.
I look at the caked mud on the kid's clothes. I shrug. It rains a lot in this city. It always does.
The cold is the least of my worries. I'm on a rush. Can't afford to run late. I fiddle with my watch.
I walk out of the wagon, feeling uneasy. The fog is not very thick, but it doesn't help. I never liked foggy days. Never since I was a kid. Never since.
As soon as I step out, I spot him. Like every day.
He's an old man. Always dressed formal. Smiles at me while I'm walking up to him and asks me about something. I try to smile back. Scratches his neck while talking. He always does.
He says I arrived just in time, in a casual tone.
Just in time to go to work.
So far a WIP.
-------------------
I glance at my watch one more. It's six to four.
It's a cold, rainy day. I rush to the train station. Like every day. I can't miss my train.
I arrive to the station. Just in time.
Like every time i walk into a train, I look both ways before sitting. I make sure nobody is following me. Not that anybody would be following me. It's just a precaution.
The wagon is not very crowded. It never is. There is only a short boy with a flat cap and a lazy eye. He's got a big bag. It's full of papers
My fingers twitch a bit. I'm a bit impatient. This train is old and a bit unkempt, so it's very slow, and it's noisy and rusty. Grime everywhere. The windows are almost translucent. It moans and screeches as it leave sthe platform.
Like every time I'm on a train, I glance around to look at the other passengers.
I look at the kid again. He looks at me. He looks like he's trying to say something, but he stops himself. He opens his mouth time and time again, and he closes it. He breathes deep and looks at me. With one eye.
He asks me if there is something wrong. I ask why. He points his finger. It's my leg. Shaking. Moving. Tapping my shoe against the floor.
It shakes and jerks a little. I put my hand on it. It stops moving. I breathe. I'm a little nervous. But I smile for the kid. To reassure him.I say it's just the rain and the cold. I do my best to look friendly. The kid smiles too, and drops the subject.
He remains silent for the rest of the journey. He looks away.
With one eye.
I look at the caked mud on the kid's clothes. I shrug. It rains a lot in this city. It always does.
The cold is the least of my worries. I'm on a rush. Can't afford to run late. I fiddle with my watch.
I walk out of the wagon, feeling uneasy. The fog is not very thick, but it doesn't help. I never liked foggy days. Never since I was a kid. Never since.
As soon as I step out, I spot him. Like every day.
He's an old man. Always dressed formal. Smiles at me while I'm walking up to him and asks me about something. I try to smile back. Scratches his neck while talking. He always does.
He says I arrived just in time, in a casual tone.
Just in time to go to work.
