Part 3: Sylvia's Mother cont.Dan saw to my awakening personally when the time came for my performance. A series of sharp raps against the door in time with orders for me to come downstairs roused me back to consciousness. Stretching my fingers in preparation for their exercise yet to come, I walked out of my room and descended down to the main bar room floor. The number of patrons now in the bar made this morning seemed to make jest of the meager showing in the early morning. The room was packed to the point of becoming one single entity. One enormous crowd, the only distinguishing feature being the noise it gave off.&nbsPart 3: Sylvia's Mother cont.
Part 3: Sylvia's MotherMy first reaction wasn’t much of a reaction at all. I sat there dazed that I had been so close to what I came for the entire time I had been in the bar. I had been played the fool yet again, and had more than deserved it. Were I only to give my surroundings a bit more attention, everything I hoped to accomplish on this little excursion could have very well been resolved moments ago. They had both been within my grasp, and I’d let them slip through. However, I couldn’t help but be somewhat unsettled by the stranger who was sharing the company of the one I loved and the one I loathed.Part 3: Sylvia's Mother
Part 2: Piano manMorning had set out like a lonely hunter to take down its prey of the night, and was closing in on the kill. Though the streetlights and stars were still visibly lit, the horizon which the train yard occupied to my back was becoming better illuminated by the second, and soon a flurry of other travelers would be arriving at The City by more traditional methods, making it far more difficult to find some place with vacancy for the night. Judging by the fact that the regardless of how tightly I clung to my old, hand-me-down, aviator jacket my skin still crawled with goose flesh, I had no intention of sacrificing a room to soPart 2: Piano man
Part 1: The GamblerThe fact that he was sickly was apparent from clear across the rattling boxcar. The way his hand shuddered like a leaf on an autumn wind when he held it out at arm’s length and the signature rattling cough he gave at the end of every several spoken words showed that his time was limited. Obviously as aware of his limited amount of time as the rest of the collective group of hobos squatting in their own personal section of the boxcar, he ushered his nearest neighbor to him, undoubtedly a young man like me once his vagrant stubble was shaved, and began to whisper something into his ear in between the loud fits of coughing.Part 1: The Gambler
Update
Neutral
--
Twitter // My blog // Facebook
Comment to comment, not to get them back
--
"I'll take the job!"
--
Twitter // My blog // Facebook
Comment to comment, not to get them back
--
"I'll take the job!"
So what kind of stories did you write for the campus publications? That sounds really interesting
I am just busy with work and life in general, I feel like I never get to just sit down and veg. But I had 2 months of that, so I guess it's not too bad
--
Twitter // My blog // Facebook
Comment to comment, not to get them back
--
Note: Sarcasm.
Not My Page ; Not My Work
--
WHAT! WHAT!!!???
--
Note: Sarcasm.
Not My Page ; Not My Work
--
"I'll take the job!"
Previous Page12345...Next Page