Post by Drakz on Mar 19, 2008 20:03:16 GMT -5
It's easy enough to sit around in here and just let this carry on forever, and forever is a long time......I think. Saying things like sit though makes me sound like I'm stuck in the physical but fortunately for some that's not the case. I'm not even sure what I'd do if I did get out. It wouldn't take much for me to just pretend this is how it should be, it's not as though I really remember any different. It's not all about what you remember though. Clearly this body I'm stuck in is my own, but I don't remember that. Clearly this voice I'm thinking with is my own as well, but again I don't remember that. Don't get me wrong I haven't actually got a clue what I'm talking about here and if I ever do get out I might end up in a totally different place to where I'm thinking of. All I've got right now though is my thoughts, so I might as well keep thinking. Damn I'm poetic.
The street is empty. Entirely empty. Not a single person even hides themselves in the shadows. It's somewhat eerie seeing a city street that would usually be so full of life this dead. Heaving bin bags litter the edges of the pavement awaiting the truck to come along in the morning and take them away from this place. One or two have been ripped open, most likely by cats but it is uncertain. Above the roof tops the grey clouds swell, looking as fit to burst as the bin bags. It's going to rain tonight.
The clubs lining the road are all shut, the lights are off and there's nobody home. Not even the cleaners have arrived yet to get things looking spotless for the following morning. From the outside each club and bar looks very corporate, more likely than not they are all owned by the same company. There's no room for the independent business man here any more. The only place that looks even remotely individual is boarded up. Unlike the other clubs the outside of this building looks much less clinical. It doesn't seem to have the same sense of snobbery about it as the others, maybe that's down to the fact that we can't see in the windows because of the MDF boards. The only sign of life to exist in this area comes now as a loud smash from the rear of the building.
A pane of glass smashes and it's executor now lays on the inside of the building in the form of half of a brick. It has no remorse about it's violent attack but why would it? The catalyst of the said damage stands a mere 5 feet away from the now empty window frame. He takes little time to move though as he begins to climb through the gaping wound in the structure's side. A shard of glass still lodged in the wood of the frame gouges its way into the figure's palm but he doesn't pull away, instead he continues to move forward, thus placing an uncomfortable amount of pressure onto the hand. As he moves away from the frame the glass slides back out with ease followed by a stream of blood.
Now why would “I” do that? Why would “I” show such disregard for “my” own body. Who cares, at least I didn't feel it all the way in here. That's one bonus of not being in control I guess. Speaking of pain, what the hell was all that fighting about the other day? Looked like a wrestling ring to me. I don't know why “I” was there but “I” sure as hell kicked the f*ck out of that pr*ck with his name on his sun shades. I guess some of us were just born winners, even if we're not in control. It does leave me wondering whether I'm going to be doing it again though. It seems odd that I'd go fight some one in a ring just the once. What am “I” up to? Jesus this place is a dump, no wonder it's all boarded up.
Very little fills the room but rubbish and broken glass. Empty cans are strewn all over and there's even a blanket over in the corner.
Looks like some one slept rough in here at some point as well. You mind explaining where we are?
There's no reply
HA! You keep trying to ignore me bruv, you'll break in time.
At the side of the room there is what looks like an old bar although none of the taps remain and only a couple of empty bottles sit on the shelf behind it. At some point this room would have been bursting with life and full of people but now it lays dormant, used for nothing at all. The sound of running water can be heard as the red discharge pouring from the masked man's hand collects in a pool on top of an old newspaper.
Well this is a hoot. I can barely see where I am and even if I could it wouldn't help. I just wish I could remember more then maybe this place would bare some relevance in my life, if a life is what you would call it. Damn it I'm losing a lot of blood.
Out of no where images rush through his mind, violently, far too warped to make any sense. The room bursts into life for a second with people dancing and falling around from wall to wall. Colours flash and the noxious smell of cigarette smoke fills the air. Then it dies again only to come rushing back moments later. The figure, seemingly on his own in here falls to one knee and clutches his head. Then as quick as it came it ends.
What..........................................I...........................Was that?
This is where I found you.
Found me?
This is where I took control.
What do you mean? What is this place? Am I feeling faint from losing too much blood?
The figure rises back to both feet, standing straight as though nothing had even just occurred. The room is as dirt ridden and empty as it was moments before and still blood gushes from the deep wound in his hand.
Don't sound so shocked. Don't you remember?
Of course not!
..................................
Tell me! Why did you come here?
.................................
What is this meant to mean?
The figure now makes a move back toward the window, broken glass crunches underfoot. There is silence now, bar the dripping of the blood running off of the only left hand in the room. Neither of the voices say a word, to themselves or to each other. The air of confusion that is now surrounding everything in the room makes the abandoned club seem even less homely than before and the figure makes an exit back through the window.
What the hell was all that? I feel as though I should know what that was. I feel like I've been there before.
The street is empty. Entirely empty. Not a single person even hides themselves in the shadows. It's somewhat eerie seeing a city street that would usually be so full of life this dead. Heaving bin bags litter the edges of the pavement awaiting the truck to come along in the morning and take them away from this place. One or two have been ripped open, most likely by cats but it is uncertain. Above the roof tops the grey clouds swell, looking as fit to burst as the bin bags. It's going to rain tonight.
The clubs lining the road are all shut, the lights are off and there's nobody home. Not even the cleaners have arrived yet to get things looking spotless for the following morning. From the outside each club and bar looks very corporate, more likely than not they are all owned by the same company. There's no room for the independent business man here any more. The only place that looks even remotely individual is boarded up. Unlike the other clubs the outside of this building looks much less clinical. It doesn't seem to have the same sense of snobbery about it as the others, maybe that's down to the fact that we can't see in the windows because of the MDF boards. The only sign of life to exist in this area comes now as a loud smash from the rear of the building.
A pane of glass smashes and it's executor now lays on the inside of the building in the form of half of a brick. It has no remorse about it's violent attack but why would it? The catalyst of the said damage stands a mere 5 feet away from the now empty window frame. He takes little time to move though as he begins to climb through the gaping wound in the structure's side. A shard of glass still lodged in the wood of the frame gouges its way into the figure's palm but he doesn't pull away, instead he continues to move forward, thus placing an uncomfortable amount of pressure onto the hand. As he moves away from the frame the glass slides back out with ease followed by a stream of blood.
Now why would “I” do that? Why would “I” show such disregard for “my” own body. Who cares, at least I didn't feel it all the way in here. That's one bonus of not being in control I guess. Speaking of pain, what the hell was all that fighting about the other day? Looked like a wrestling ring to me. I don't know why “I” was there but “I” sure as hell kicked the f*ck out of that pr*ck with his name on his sun shades. I guess some of us were just born winners, even if we're not in control. It does leave me wondering whether I'm going to be doing it again though. It seems odd that I'd go fight some one in a ring just the once. What am “I” up to? Jesus this place is a dump, no wonder it's all boarded up.
Very little fills the room but rubbish and broken glass. Empty cans are strewn all over and there's even a blanket over in the corner.
Looks like some one slept rough in here at some point as well. You mind explaining where we are?
There's no reply
HA! You keep trying to ignore me bruv, you'll break in time.
At the side of the room there is what looks like an old bar although none of the taps remain and only a couple of empty bottles sit on the shelf behind it. At some point this room would have been bursting with life and full of people but now it lays dormant, used for nothing at all. The sound of running water can be heard as the red discharge pouring from the masked man's hand collects in a pool on top of an old newspaper.
Well this is a hoot. I can barely see where I am and even if I could it wouldn't help. I just wish I could remember more then maybe this place would bare some relevance in my life, if a life is what you would call it. Damn it I'm losing a lot of blood.
Out of no where images rush through his mind, violently, far too warped to make any sense. The room bursts into life for a second with people dancing and falling around from wall to wall. Colours flash and the noxious smell of cigarette smoke fills the air. Then it dies again only to come rushing back moments later. The figure, seemingly on his own in here falls to one knee and clutches his head. Then as quick as it came it ends.
What..........................................I...........................Was that?
This is where I found you.
Found me?
This is where I took control.
What do you mean? What is this place? Am I feeling faint from losing too much blood?
The figure rises back to both feet, standing straight as though nothing had even just occurred. The room is as dirt ridden and empty as it was moments before and still blood gushes from the deep wound in his hand.
Don't sound so shocked. Don't you remember?
Of course not!
..................................
Tell me! Why did you come here?
.................................
What is this meant to mean?
The figure now makes a move back toward the window, broken glass crunches underfoot. There is silence now, bar the dripping of the blood running off of the only left hand in the room. Neither of the voices say a word, to themselves or to each other. The air of confusion that is now surrounding everything in the room makes the abandoned club seem even less homely than before and the figure makes an exit back through the window.
What the hell was all that? I feel as though I should know what that was. I feel like I've been there before.