It's about time

I have a bad tendon as direct result of my flat feet.
It's supposed to regulate your arch, and I think I'm straining it or something.
Which is pinching another one on the other side of my ankle.
Lovely.
Medicine is a couple weeks of PT before I can run again.
For now, cycling...swimming...elliptical.
Which I can live with.

Feel so much better as of late.
A good dose of friends does that greatly.

Reworked my playlist.

Ohh, I should show you what I'm working on!!
I only have these two scenes cause I have third yet to be typed out.
No, I've no idea what happened in between the two.
This chick will not give me anything.
Which is kinda the point of her profession.
:)


Scene 1:

She sits at the bar, a girl no more than 16, though her ID claims otherwise. The bartender suspects, but needs the business. No one is ever in here except for the drunken regulars and a few drifters. She was paying well and had nursed several drinks so far. Cheap ones, but he knew the type. Down a couple of soft drinks before the hard liquor came out.

She stares hard at the bottom of her gin and tonic. Swirling the ice around the only remnants of Her sanity. Her past only showing through Her drink preference. It was ironic nostalgia. Her Father had preferred them. It was the only alcohol ever kept in the house. After that first time She had headed to the basement, opened the cabinet, and mixed a gin and tonic. More gin than tonic though. More than he had ever used.

She upended the glass, crunching the slivers of ice on her teeth. She spoke to the bartender, asking for a couple fingers of whiskey. Any particulars? he asked. No. She watched him pour the amber liquid in a small glass. She changed Her mind. Just fill the glass she said. You’re gonna pay fer all this right? he asked. She snorted. He took that as a yes.

She swilled the liquid and took a gulp, not even wincing at the burn in Her throat. The bartender watched warily at her obvious immunity to the liquor and wondered briefly if She were more than 16. He looked Her up and down. Legs clad in fishnets and red motorcycle boots, scuffed and worn. A small black skirt, a black t-shirt, a black jacket. Pale face, with heavy black eye makeup and red lipstick. Pretty mouth. Rather plain after that though. He found himself staring at Her mouth. Very pretty. She felt eyes on Her and looked up. She sneered at him and he dropped his eyes and mopped up the counter.

She took another gulp of the drink and smiled at Her reflection. Every bar had a mirror across from the bar now. It was the American dream She thought, Her smile growing, A house with a white fence, 2.5 kids, and a mirror across from your bar . Her smile was positively evil at the thought of the 2.5 kids. She knew why one would be in half.

She looked down at the half empty drink and drained it. Turning around and standing with a fluid motion. Not even swaying. She could hold Her liquor well. When you’ve been drinking since twelve that happened. How much for the drink? She asked the bartender. 30 bucks he answered, trying to coddle a sale. She saw through it. Smiled and slapped a 20 on the stool. Cheers, She said and walked out.



Scene 2:

She greedily licked the blood from around her mouth as the latest one squirmed, screaming silently through her gag, torn remnant of the pretty little dress fluttering at her sides. Now, She was no Hannibal Lecter, but when its spicy sticky-ness ventured near Her mouth...Well, it was damn near impossible not to take a quick taste. She found that the younger you went the better it tasted. She stared down at the girl lying on the table with a look that could only be described as curious, the girl’s slightly unfocused eyes found Hers and instantly sharpened. How old are you? She asked, making Her voice sweet and un-scary. The little girl gave Her a look of utmost confusion...Primal instincts vs. Learned behavior. The learned behavior won out this time. Tears brimmed on small blue eyes filled with hope, her little hand displayed five fingers.

She smiled and let Her own primal instincts take over. Putting Her mouth over the small slice in the girl’s wrist, She drew a deep mouthful, swallowed, then took another. She stood back up, watched the terror in the girls eyes return. Absolutely beautiful. Back to work, She decided, swiping the back of Her hand across Her mouth. She reached inside Her jacket and pulled out a small scalpel. Inspecting the weapon, She recalled something She had read once. How much shock trauma could the ‘patient’ stand? How far are they willing to go to survive? She smirked and looked at the girl. Experiment number whatever in progress. Lucky you, She purred and the little girl’s tear-stained face gave Her a funny look.

She ignored and looked for a point of attack. She climbed up on the table, straddling the girls non-existent hips. She felt a warm tingle. God, She needed a good lay. When was the last time...A few towns ago, She thought. Well, what the hell was She supposed to do now? She was in no mood for a killing now...Ah, well. It’s you lucky day sweetheart, She said to the girl. What was another witness? What was another character sketch on AMW? She was changing guises again soon anyway. How’s now? She took out the gag and unbinded her, gripping tight on the small hand She led the girl to her home, hot-wired a car, and got the hell out of there.




No, she's not a freaking vampire.
She's completely human.
Well, maybe not completely.
hhahha, yeahh.

Not much else to report.
Signing off!

Uh-huh, holy shit! It's about time you get off my dick.