Status: Very active.. like the universe.
Dead!
Chapter 1
It was early evening in New Jersey, the almost invisible sun was casting dim rays of light through the blanket of grey clouds and smoke that hung over the city, making it seem like it was cut off from the world. Witch in some ways it was, new jersey was a place well known for crimes and murders, on most occasions bodies were found in the swirling muddy waters under the bridge in the middle of the city, the bridge earning itself the name ‘death walk’.
This was probably why nobody was ever out after dark, and if people were they were probably up to no good. New Jersey was a society built on religion. If someone wasn’t a criminal, they were probably deeply religious. Noting unusual was tolerated in this strict build of society, the schools were taught strictly along the basis of religion, all the families and house rules operating in much the same manner. In fact there was nothing unique about anything anywhere in the city at all. All the houses were pretty much the same, dreary and grey, with the inside walls painted cream or brown, the typical depressing Jesus figure on the cross in the hallway...
Frank, on the other hand, was either an exception, or headed for a life of crime. Unlike the other teens that turned to crime because they thought it was cool, frank had done it simply to get by. His views and sexuality clashed with those of the strict teachers at school, and he was always speaking his mind in class, weather it was inappropriate or not mainly to piss people off.
He’d never agreed with society but was still looking for a way to express himself. Frank never really had any friends mainly because he was so different from everybody else, his only friend, the weed-addicted metal head Bob. This is probably another of the many reasons he was walking down the dangerous alleyways of New Jersey at 11:00 at night.
The chill from the wind sent shivers down frank’s spine and he pulled his scarf further up round his face, he wasn’t here on any particular business, just to get supplies. Supplies meaning cigarettes and whiskey, as he was only 17 he couldn’t get them easily, but he knew the right people so it was never too much of a problem.
Frank didn’t get wasted for the sake of getting wasted though, he did it to loose himself, just for a few hours it felt good to have an escape from his shitty life and routine, nothing, he told himself would ever replace his addiction.
Frank shuffled down the narrow decaying pathway, rats running from under his feet as he walked at a brisk pace, looking up at the blocks of shabby flats towering 15 stories high above him. His mind was not in the mood for wandering now though. He wanted booze. And he wanted it now.
He reached the end of the alley, stopping at a small door, covered in peeling black paint with a small sign reading ‘room 101 bar’ frank chuckled at the sign before hurriedly looking over his shoulder and entering. Once inside he was greeted with the warm yet overpowering scent of pot. It was everywhere and almost made him gag. He was not here for the drugs.
He pushed his way roughly past various dealers trying to offer him things, you had to make an impression here or they’d think you were weak. He leant on the old oak bar and waited.
“Well frank” a familiar rasping voice whispered from behind him, worn from the years of hard drug abuse, frank turn to face him. Frank had always wondered why he hadn’t died; he was practically a skeleton, his skin pale and stretched over his hunched frame
“Hello Sam.”
“Haven’t seen you around in a while”
“Yeah well I’ve been busy.” Frank snapped he was really not in the mood for talk, he hated doing this and the smell of pot was beginning to make him feel sick.
“Aw little Frankie’s all moody now is he? We can sort that out... No problem...” Sam smirked “here
try thi-“
“Fuck of Sam, you know what I came for”
“Fine, fine, no need for that” he grumbled grabbing the pile of money from frank and roughly shoving the bag full of bottles and packets into his arms.
Once the goods were in his hands frank bolted. It was a dangerous game he was playing in there and he wasn’t stupid. But in his mind the rewards were well worth the risk.
Once out of the haze of the room and back onto the street frank lit up a cigarette, he needed to clear his mind and decided to put off going home for as long as he could by taking a new and longer route, the one that went alongside death walk.
The night air was sharp and it felt good as he walked slowly down the path by the brown mess that they called a river. It wasn’t long before he was at that ‘famous’ bridge. It wasn’t that he was scared, it was more the fact that so many people had died here, it was like he could feel their unrested souls in the air, waiting for someone to claim them, for them to be at rest, or to seek vengeance on their killer.
He shivered and carried on walking, quickening his pace so as to get past the place as quickly as possible, if he was caught around there questions would surely spring up as to where he’d been.
As he neared the street he was to go down he thought he heard a noise. A faint whispering, someone talking? But who else is out at this time? Murderers? No, there’d been a kill not 2 days ago nobody would risk another in such a short time space unless they were mad.
Against all common scene frank turned towards the sound, drawn to it’s mystery he made his way to the river bank and looked down to the strip of mud that led into the water.
A chill sped its way through his whole body though he knew not the reason, just that feeling like there was someone next to him, but when he turned he saw nothing but the lights of the apartments behind him and heard nothing but the whisper of the wind.
There was a figure sat by the water with its back to frank, a man maybe in his early 20’s? With messy raven black hair at about shoulder length, pale, almost white skin that gave off a ghostly glow, he was dressed completely in black, from his black leather jacket, black skinny jeans to his black dress shoes. Attractive.
He was talking to something. There was nothing there. Was he mad? Frank had so many questions now, being the inquisitive little prick he was. He sighed loudly. Too loud.
The figure snapped his head round and looked frank directly in the eye, his piercing stare locked with frank, he couldn’t help but notice how well structured and... handsome his face was, high cheekbones given shadow in the light, dark eyes, contrasting with his radiant pale skin.
Frank was snapped back into reality when the man lifted his gaze from him and stood up, murmuring something to whatever he had been talking to, and returning his stare to frank with a look of malice. Oh fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.
This was probably why nobody was ever out after dark, and if people were they were probably up to no good. New Jersey was a society built on religion. If someone wasn’t a criminal, they were probably deeply religious. Noting unusual was tolerated in this strict build of society, the schools were taught strictly along the basis of religion, all the families and house rules operating in much the same manner. In fact there was nothing unique about anything anywhere in the city at all. All the houses were pretty much the same, dreary and grey, with the inside walls painted cream or brown, the typical depressing Jesus figure on the cross in the hallway...
Frank, on the other hand, was either an exception, or headed for a life of crime. Unlike the other teens that turned to crime because they thought it was cool, frank had done it simply to get by. His views and sexuality clashed with those of the strict teachers at school, and he was always speaking his mind in class, weather it was inappropriate or not mainly to piss people off.
He’d never agreed with society but was still looking for a way to express himself. Frank never really had any friends mainly because he was so different from everybody else, his only friend, the weed-addicted metal head Bob. This is probably another of the many reasons he was walking down the dangerous alleyways of New Jersey at 11:00 at night.
The chill from the wind sent shivers down frank’s spine and he pulled his scarf further up round his face, he wasn’t here on any particular business, just to get supplies. Supplies meaning cigarettes and whiskey, as he was only 17 he couldn’t get them easily, but he knew the right people so it was never too much of a problem.
Frank didn’t get wasted for the sake of getting wasted though, he did it to loose himself, just for a few hours it felt good to have an escape from his shitty life and routine, nothing, he told himself would ever replace his addiction.
Frank shuffled down the narrow decaying pathway, rats running from under his feet as he walked at a brisk pace, looking up at the blocks of shabby flats towering 15 stories high above him. His mind was not in the mood for wandering now though. He wanted booze. And he wanted it now.
He reached the end of the alley, stopping at a small door, covered in peeling black paint with a small sign reading ‘room 101 bar’ frank chuckled at the sign before hurriedly looking over his shoulder and entering. Once inside he was greeted with the warm yet overpowering scent of pot. It was everywhere and almost made him gag. He was not here for the drugs.
He pushed his way roughly past various dealers trying to offer him things, you had to make an impression here or they’d think you were weak. He leant on the old oak bar and waited.
“Well frank” a familiar rasping voice whispered from behind him, worn from the years of hard drug abuse, frank turn to face him. Frank had always wondered why he hadn’t died; he was practically a skeleton, his skin pale and stretched over his hunched frame
“Hello Sam.”
“Haven’t seen you around in a while”
“Yeah well I’ve been busy.” Frank snapped he was really not in the mood for talk, he hated doing this and the smell of pot was beginning to make him feel sick.
“Aw little Frankie’s all moody now is he? We can sort that out... No problem...” Sam smirked “here
try thi-“
“Fuck of Sam, you know what I came for”
“Fine, fine, no need for that” he grumbled grabbing the pile of money from frank and roughly shoving the bag full of bottles and packets into his arms.
Once the goods were in his hands frank bolted. It was a dangerous game he was playing in there and he wasn’t stupid. But in his mind the rewards were well worth the risk.
Once out of the haze of the room and back onto the street frank lit up a cigarette, he needed to clear his mind and decided to put off going home for as long as he could by taking a new and longer route, the one that went alongside death walk.
The night air was sharp and it felt good as he walked slowly down the path by the brown mess that they called a river. It wasn’t long before he was at that ‘famous’ bridge. It wasn’t that he was scared, it was more the fact that so many people had died here, it was like he could feel their unrested souls in the air, waiting for someone to claim them, for them to be at rest, or to seek vengeance on their killer.
He shivered and carried on walking, quickening his pace so as to get past the place as quickly as possible, if he was caught around there questions would surely spring up as to where he’d been.
As he neared the street he was to go down he thought he heard a noise. A faint whispering, someone talking? But who else is out at this time? Murderers? No, there’d been a kill not 2 days ago nobody would risk another in such a short time space unless they were mad.
Against all common scene frank turned towards the sound, drawn to it’s mystery he made his way to the river bank and looked down to the strip of mud that led into the water.
A chill sped its way through his whole body though he knew not the reason, just that feeling like there was someone next to him, but when he turned he saw nothing but the lights of the apartments behind him and heard nothing but the whisper of the wind.
There was a figure sat by the water with its back to frank, a man maybe in his early 20’s? With messy raven black hair at about shoulder length, pale, almost white skin that gave off a ghostly glow, he was dressed completely in black, from his black leather jacket, black skinny jeans to his black dress shoes. Attractive.
He was talking to something. There was nothing there. Was he mad? Frank had so many questions now, being the inquisitive little prick he was. He sighed loudly. Too loud.
The figure snapped his head round and looked frank directly in the eye, his piercing stare locked with frank, he couldn’t help but notice how well structured and... handsome his face was, high cheekbones given shadow in the light, dark eyes, contrasting with his radiant pale skin.
Frank was snapped back into reality when the man lifted his gaze from him and stood up, murmuring something to whatever he had been talking to, and returning his stare to frank with a look of malice. Oh fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.
♠ ♠ ♠
lalalalala