Dreary or Scary

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Action and Adventure  |  House: Booksie Classic
His in a bar... who is he? Meeting someone in a bar she doesn't know, who is she? Barging in, again the hell is his. Like I'd know. How about you

Submitted: November 15, 2016

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Submitted: November 15, 2016

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No matter what, the world around him seemed dull and inert. It was a dreary afternoon; rain was pouring relentlessly. Even people with smiles forcefully etched into their faces, failed to hide their jadedness. Everything seemed fruitless, there was nothing to do. The musk of smoke overtook the fragrance of the flowers and scented candles scattered around the restaurant. The staff’s attempts to cover up the stench of cigarette smoke were futile and ineffective. Sympathy tempted him to tell them he’d help out, on the other hand he had no room to talk. Since he was a frequent costumer, whose smoking habit assisted the pollution of the restaurant air.

Beside the fact the place reeked of almost toxic fumes, their foods were delightful and heavenly and as for the drinks. They were extravagant and ornate, nothing could beat their range of drinks in his mind. Nevertheless, he still felt hollow, even in a place where he usually felt undisturbed and at peace.

Relishing every sip of his harshly bitter yet intoxicating drink. He withered into a slump in his seat, displaying how much of a miserable, deplorable life he lived. Inside the restaurant, he reserved and now resided at a cramped, rounded, smooth wooden table pushed into a narrow corner. Fortunately, that didn’t stop his view of it’s deluxe, spacious, opulent room.

Where he sat, he slouched tight-lipped, meanwhile someone slowly trudged over to his rounded table. Clearing their throat, it was an extravagant, towering woman. Wearing an elongated beautified dress, coloured like the clear blue skies of a summer day. It only had one strap that latched on to her left shoulder, while her costly lavished blonde hair swept and swirled down her right. Excessive amounts of make up shifted and shaped her face, on her lips she had blood red lipstick. Mascara, making her eyelashes look like they’re stretching out into the air. She was a doll, her face dead-panned and impassive. No facial expression could make it past her barrier of chemical beautifiers.

Puffing her lips before talking, her eyes giving him the once-over.

“So. How you, hottie?” she attempted to flirt but her efforts to hide her ulterior motives were all in vain. Scuffling to the left, he allowed room for her to grab a spare chair to sit next to him. Elated by this unexpected action, she jauntily took this opportunity and plunked herself only a few millimetre from him.

Almost bursting with laughter like an over filled balloon. He suppressed this urge to snigger at the overly joyed, overly sized adult acting like a three year old with no expressions. Propping himself against the wall, while facing her head on. Thoughts that admired her unique, unprecedented looks ran though his head, before a penny dropped in his mind. Was she one of them?

Withholding his question for her, he almost leaped of his seat before snaking his way through the spread out tables. Tranquil, serene music was barely audible as he reached the entrance of this high-toned, showy, exclusive restaurant.

“Hey, Phoenix!” a booming voice shouted. Slowly rotating to the source of the voice, he took in the placid atmosphere of the room. Almost empty, the few who were there helped emphasis on the clear shortage of people.

The few jittery, hesitant faces looked in his direction. Eyes lightly tracing the figure he was now half seeing.

Phoenix gasped at this unexpected figure, making full on eye contact… What was he doing here?…

Badump! Jane’s heart pounded loud like a drum. How rude could he have been? Weaving through the tables just after finally offering up a seat for her. Almost leaping out of his abnormally steady chair and smoothly rushing to the entrance. Words of aggression wormed their way up her throat like her body was trying to throw up all the repressed words she kept hidden all this time. She knew this unfathomable hate wouldn’t show on her doll face, which made her hate it even more. Before rage completely swallowed her whole, the figure that appeared behind the man run to the enterance, threw that feeling out the window. Replacing it with fear and anxiety.

Since she was little this face caused her trouble, she used make up to try and hide this emotionless hint she had to her face. But instead it made it look like it’s make ups fault that she couldn’t smile cheerfully. This person was able to break this problem. Unfortunately, not in the good way, she was now one of the jittery and nervous faces staring in awe at this phenomenon…

 

A joyless and standoffish face was only a few steps away from where he stood. Bewitching features outlined and filled in his face. He had storm-filled eyes; bluish grey. Like the skies being allowed to warn humans of the storm brewing above. Sharp and pointed, his nose sparked a giggle but his inhuman grin made your stomach churn in aggravation.

“Mr. Hudson, w-what are you d-doing here?” Phoenix asked, stuttering drastically while being glared at by this so call “person”.

“Well, I heard you screwed up on another mission,” his voice may have been consistently plain and monotone-like, but you could hear his anger wriggle through his voice. Worming its way into Phoenix’s mind and triggering the suppressed memories he had of when he provoked him. When aggravated, Mr. Hudson was like a whirlpool of annihilation, of which nothing can keep clear of.

“Let’s get out of here. You know I can’t forgive you this time. You had enough chances.”

 

Cold nipped and bit at my fingers and nose, as the wind howled like a wolf in the night. The small shabby bus stop was dimly lit by an orangey light that softly hummed. Waiting put weights on my eyelids. My limbs were like stone and refused to move. Behind the bus stop was a restaurant named “The White Rabbit.”

After a few minutes two guys walked out, I was to tired to listen in into the bundle of mumbles and hisses of the conversation. The only thing I could discern from it was ‘Phoenix.’

My legs still stiff and achy; standing up when I heard the bus haltingly stop at the small shack that could barely be called a bus stop it was so run down and beaten up. The door shushed open and the drivers scarcity of life showed through his ‘I don’t care’ expression on his face, as he asked for my money then tightly handed me my ticket.

Shush…

Closing up behind me, it invited yet trapped me into the warmth of this moving box on wheels.

Following reluctantly, he's head ached and a ringing sound lingered in he's ears. Stepping out the door sent a blast of invigorating air to give him the old one-two. All he could do was a evade and reject the pain of the outdoors and keep on walking. "M-Mr. Hudson, why did you come here t-to meet me?"

Rolling his eyes, he focused his bluish eyes honed in on the path ahead. "Where are we going?" Phoenix asked in a pointless effort to regain Hudsons attention; passed a bus stop. Hudson opened his mouth after mumbling to himself. Mentioning Pheonix multiply times. "The place you failed to 'complete' you mission..."


© Copyright 2017 K.M.Jean. All rights reserved.

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