Malicecrusader
Virgin
- Joined
- Feb 1, 2003
- Posts
- 3
Boy it was cold.
As he walked the streets of the city he cared too little about to learn its name, his silhouetted form looked a posessor of no arms, seeing as they were wrapped desperately around his torso under the tattered overcoat he wore. Under which were only the clothes on his back, a turtleneck, (hiding whatever may be on his neck) pants and boots, all in equally poor condition as his coat. On his shoulder was that lucky duffel, obviously not fulfilling its lucky namesake from the cold air torturing his poor forehead and ears at the moment. On this head lay his only warm posession, the black, Jaque Cousteau(sp?) style skull cap with kept that precious fourty percent of his body heat trapped within his freezing head.
He couldn't take walking anymore, his legs were in too much pain. He'd entered the city and kept on walking, never looking at anything but benches and street lights, one luring him forward, the other tempting him to sit down on his grave. But now it was pointless, this city had no end, and he had no energy. He breathed his acceptance out into a misty cloud in front of him, only to watch it cool and disappear. His eyes slowly slid closed as he though back to the various times in his life, filled with sore knees and aching tongues. It was the only thing to keep him concious. And alive it seemed, as he slowly drifted off into sleep, dreaming of the times he'd never get to relive.
[End post. Open thread]
As he walked the streets of the city he cared too little about to learn its name, his silhouetted form looked a posessor of no arms, seeing as they were wrapped desperately around his torso under the tattered overcoat he wore. Under which were only the clothes on his back, a turtleneck, (hiding whatever may be on his neck) pants and boots, all in equally poor condition as his coat. On his shoulder was that lucky duffel, obviously not fulfilling its lucky namesake from the cold air torturing his poor forehead and ears at the moment. On this head lay his only warm posession, the black, Jaque Cousteau(sp?) style skull cap with kept that precious fourty percent of his body heat trapped within his freezing head.
He couldn't take walking anymore, his legs were in too much pain. He'd entered the city and kept on walking, never looking at anything but benches and street lights, one luring him forward, the other tempting him to sit down on his grave. But now it was pointless, this city had no end, and he had no energy. He breathed his acceptance out into a misty cloud in front of him, only to watch it cool and disappear. His eyes slowly slid closed as he though back to the various times in his life, filled with sore knees and aching tongues. It was the only thing to keep him concious. And alive it seemed, as he slowly drifted off into sleep, dreaming of the times he'd never get to relive.
[End post. Open thread]
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