Post by Ink® on Aug 31, 2008 20:11:31 GMT -7
[Sort of inspired by Kalix from the book Lonely Werewolf Girl.]
The night was wicked cold but she didn’t care. It was also raining, if it had been a few degrees colder it would have been snowing. The streets were slushy, the icy rain turning some of the snow that had fallen previously to a slick watery substance. She wasn’t wearing good clothes for the weather, walking down the dark and filth allies of the city with some ripped jeans, a thin shirt, and a thread-bare jacket. She shivered and with a red and nearly numb hand pushed her matted hair behind her ear.
She had been without a home for almost a week now. It was almost winter and each night she walked around, only sleeping in the day. She had nowhere to go but walked around just to keep her blood flowing and somewhat warm in the frozen nights. She wasn’t exactly sure what had happened, she had been living on her own for a few months and she owed some dangerous people money. Money that she had no way of obtaining. And then, her small apartment that was only just bigger than a closet, was on fire.
Without a home or money or good clothing she knew she didn’t have much longer to live. She continued to walk and then the rain that had soaked her completely already turned into snow, with a bit of hail in it. She continued walking and continued to get colder. There wasn’t much else she could do though. She was so fatigued and frozen, her ears hurt with the cold and her nose was cold and runny.
A few minutes later she saw a piece of cardboard on the alley ground. Suddenly she thought how nice it would be to just sit on it and rest; after all it had been sheltered and was the only dry thing she had seen in a few days. She flattened it out and sat down, her back against the cold brick wall of some building. She sighed in relief to be resting.
As time passed she began to feel pretty warm despite the night. She smiled; she was both warm and sleepy. Her head slumped down over her chest and then within seconds she was asleep. How very merciful death could be…
The night was wicked cold but she didn’t care. It was also raining, if it had been a few degrees colder it would have been snowing. The streets were slushy, the icy rain turning some of the snow that had fallen previously to a slick watery substance. She wasn’t wearing good clothes for the weather, walking down the dark and filth allies of the city with some ripped jeans, a thin shirt, and a thread-bare jacket. She shivered and with a red and nearly numb hand pushed her matted hair behind her ear.
She had been without a home for almost a week now. It was almost winter and each night she walked around, only sleeping in the day. She had nowhere to go but walked around just to keep her blood flowing and somewhat warm in the frozen nights. She wasn’t exactly sure what had happened, she had been living on her own for a few months and she owed some dangerous people money. Money that she had no way of obtaining. And then, her small apartment that was only just bigger than a closet, was on fire.
Without a home or money or good clothing she knew she didn’t have much longer to live. She continued to walk and then the rain that had soaked her completely already turned into snow, with a bit of hail in it. She continued walking and continued to get colder. There wasn’t much else she could do though. She was so fatigued and frozen, her ears hurt with the cold and her nose was cold and runny.
A few minutes later she saw a piece of cardboard on the alley ground. Suddenly she thought how nice it would be to just sit on it and rest; after all it had been sheltered and was the only dry thing she had seen in a few days. She flattened it out and sat down, her back against the cold brick wall of some building. She sighed in relief to be resting.
As time passed she began to feel pretty warm despite the night. She smiled; she was both warm and sleepy. Her head slumped down over her chest and then within seconds she was asleep. How very merciful death could be…