‹ Prequel: Lost In The Fire
Sequel: Closed Away ›
Charlatans And Saints
Infidels
A bloody hand print laid on the hood of the rusty car, Saint Jimmy scribbled above it, in the familiar font that made my stomach jump in an unnatural way.
It was Jimmy’s handwriting, clear as day.
My stomach lurched, and I had a pretty good idea at who’s hand print it was. Gloria peaked over my shoulder, staring at the print in horror, “Gina.”
“We need to get out of here,” I said in a hushed tone, pulling her out of the sacred junkyard. It wasn’t ours anymore, no this whole damn town was going to fall over a war.
Jimmy’s gang from up north in Jingletown, and my own little Inferno here in Murder City.
I didn’t want Gloria in on this war, I didn’t want anyone but me and Jimmy in on it. I couldn’t help but feel like Jimmy was pulling someone’s puppet strings, and it gave me this eerie feeling that he wasn’t gone. I felt like this was all a trick and Jimmy was waiting in the shadows, cigarette hanging out of his mouth, booze bottle in his hand.
Fuck, he was Saint Jimmy. He could do whatever the hell he wanted to do!
“Gloria, I don’t have a good feeling about this,” I mumbled out, tugging at my spikes nervously as my breath hitched. Gloria looked at me worriedly, and as if on cue a loud cackle rang throughout the junkyard.
“Gloria, Viva la Gloria, you blast your name in graffiti on the wall!” the voice screamed in some form of song, and I was tensing completely. Gripping Gloria and bring her closer to me, I could see his silhouette hanging above the top of the shack, illuminated by fire and the moon.
“Christian, it’s about time your Inferno met my Disciples.”
It was Jimmy’s handwriting, clear as day.
My stomach lurched, and I had a pretty good idea at who’s hand print it was. Gloria peaked over my shoulder, staring at the print in horror, “Gina.”
“We need to get out of here,” I said in a hushed tone, pulling her out of the sacred junkyard. It wasn’t ours anymore, no this whole damn town was going to fall over a war.
Jimmy’s gang from up north in Jingletown, and my own little Inferno here in Murder City.
I didn’t want Gloria in on this war, I didn’t want anyone but me and Jimmy in on it. I couldn’t help but feel like Jimmy was pulling someone’s puppet strings, and it gave me this eerie feeling that he wasn’t gone. I felt like this was all a trick and Jimmy was waiting in the shadows, cigarette hanging out of his mouth, booze bottle in his hand.
Fuck, he was Saint Jimmy. He could do whatever the hell he wanted to do!
“Gloria, I don’t have a good feeling about this,” I mumbled out, tugging at my spikes nervously as my breath hitched. Gloria looked at me worriedly, and as if on cue a loud cackle rang throughout the junkyard.
“Gloria, Viva la Gloria, you blast your name in graffiti on the wall!” the voice screamed in some form of song, and I was tensing completely. Gripping Gloria and bring her closer to me, I could see his silhouette hanging above the top of the shack, illuminated by fire and the moon.
“Christian, it’s about time your Inferno met my Disciples.”