michaelhctam
Don Juan
- Joined
- Jan 13, 2007
- Messages
- 193
- Reaction score
- 3
The twilight sky reigns supreme over the landscape, a cascade of red, orange and purple. A large globular orange florescene slowing dying at the far edge of the horizon and disappearing into oblivion.
Michael Tam wakes up with a black eye, amongst the concrete jungle, exhaling a breath of pain, condensing the cold, dry air sorrounding him. He makes an effort to strike a cigerette, strangely already placed in his hands. He takes a drag from his cigerette and savours the almost orgasmic sensation of nicotine. He tries to find another cigerette on his body to feed his addiction, to no avail.
"This is my last cigerette, and it is ashing fast". He checks his wallet for some money....any money.
Empty wallet-A crumpled, blood-stained piece of paper was all that was found in his wallet where the green's should be. A number was written on the piece of paper with the numbers 1-212. The 5th digit, quarter completed, a violent indentation of the paper where the pen tried to write, indicating a struggle.
"Blood?!" hesitant, Michael takes a closer look at the piece of paper, turning it back and forth- nothing, just the errie numbers. A cold sweat, a flood of adrenaline saturates Michael's body in an instant.
"What have I done" as he stared at the skyline with glaring eyes. "I went to club blue last night" flashes of vibrant colours and images floods his memory as he tries to collect the fragments of memories of last night, then suddenly, a dark figure in the realms of his mind slowly walks closer uneveningly and sickly, beckoning for forgivness. His rememberance, interuppted by the obtrusive ring of his cell phone.
The caller ID states.......911.
What you think?
Want more?
Michael Tam wakes up with a black eye, amongst the concrete jungle, exhaling a breath of pain, condensing the cold, dry air sorrounding him. He makes an effort to strike a cigerette, strangely already placed in his hands. He takes a drag from his cigerette and savours the almost orgasmic sensation of nicotine. He tries to find another cigerette on his body to feed his addiction, to no avail.
"This is my last cigerette, and it is ashing fast". He checks his wallet for some money....any money.
Empty wallet-A crumpled, blood-stained piece of paper was all that was found in his wallet where the green's should be. A number was written on the piece of paper with the numbers 1-212. The 5th digit, quarter completed, a violent indentation of the paper where the pen tried to write, indicating a struggle.
"Blood?!" hesitant, Michael takes a closer look at the piece of paper, turning it back and forth- nothing, just the errie numbers. A cold sweat, a flood of adrenaline saturates Michael's body in an instant.
"What have I done" as he stared at the skyline with glaring eyes. "I went to club blue last night" flashes of vibrant colours and images floods his memory as he tries to collect the fragments of memories of last night, then suddenly, a dark figure in the realms of his mind slowly walks closer uneveningly and sickly, beckoning for forgivness. His rememberance, interuppted by the obtrusive ring of his cell phone.
The caller ID states.......911.
What you think?
Want more?
