Sentenced to Life., That's not your own. Options Track this topic Email this topic Print this topic Download this topic Subscribe to this forum Display Modes Outline Switch to: Standard Switch to: Linear+

[CoalHeart]

A simple story about a bad day. Part of my new TT's BG story. Sensory Adept, with Amnesia, and lots of pain resistance too. If anyone likes it I can make more. But I was wondering for a critique, and if it's too trite and done a million times, so I can rewrite.

The cramped room is dank, and stinking like moldy plasterboard mixed with the puntent aroma of a urine soaked mattress. How he cursed the day he woke up with his nose so tweaked. The wailing of babies and shouts of the neighborhood the sour lullaby which pervade the night. Sound of the rat and roach roomates scurrying in the dark annoy him constantly.

"God, don't let me wake up." was his last thought before a restless night of fitful sleeping overtook him.

The morning came too quickly for his tastes. The sound of the neighborhood is different during the day, more serene. Like the world had finally gone to sleep.

His bright blue eyes fluttered open in the dismal light filtering into the room. Sweat soaked sheets tossed aside. Wait... something caught his eye. The sheets had a spot of blood on them, well alot more then that. "Shit" he thought, and snapped up to his feet and looked around. Nothing, nothing out of place except the large red stain on the bed.

A state of confustion came over him, thoughts racing a thousand miles an hour. Did he? What happened? Nothing he could think of could explain this. No history of sleep walking, no previous blackouts. As thoughts passed at the speed of light through his mind, he took a deep breath and tasted a foul scent. Thoughts crashed against the flood of his senses and he sniffed again. Oil, sulphur, rubber, blood? A gun. A gun was fired in this very room, very recently.

Randomness came into his mind again, wondering coming up with senario after senario. Nature struck then too, the urge to relieve himself came strong. Staggered steps take him to where he wants to go, the filthy bathroom. Eyes closed, leaning back, and high arching, his aim perfect. Half way through opens his eye just a sliver peers over to the grimy mirror.

At that moment his eyes snap open, his aim thrown off. Pissing everywhere matters little when you see yourself for the first time. A face he dosen't know looked back at him. A ragged edged hole decorates his forehead just above the temple. "What the frag?" he whispered as his finger touched the edge. No pain, and very little blood flow.

He touched his face, where broken bones lay, bruised and torn flesh. Still nothing but the sensation of touch. Again, he stopped and stared at the face looking back. The eyes seem familiar, but nothing else. The question came to mind, and passed his lips to ask his doppleganger. "Who are you?"

Breaking the silence, the phone rang... It was some man named Johnson.

******Fin for now******