Post by ladyrileylupus on Nov 28, 2003 22:06:03 GMT -5
It was one of those days that you wake up wondering why this had to happen to you. It was like the world was turning against you and everyone was on the other side and you stood alone. That’s how I felt today, but did I care? Not really. I was through with work, I was technically on vacation for 4 weeks with pay but where to go was the main question. I kept driving in my 1980 dark red convertible Camaro with a automatic drive and I had the roof down letting the air hit me as I lifted my black shades. With a flick of the wrists I placed them on, high on my nose ridge as my dark brown hair with copper front streaks blew in the breeze. I pushed the button on my CD player and on came my favorite song, Limp Bizkit ‘Break Stuff’ as I turned the volume up. I looked over my shoulder and cut sharp infront of a green van in the next line, I looked in my rear mirror at them as the lady gave me the finger, all I did was blow her a kiss in mocking grace and speeding onto the highway. Ah well, lets see where I end up this time by sun down, today was looking up for a change but just like the sun; it always had to set.
“I wonder what this place is like,” he quietly said to himself as he waltz into the bar and looked around the dark dank room.
He stepped into the vicinity, it was a strange place but was even stranger was the obscene name that was given but when he looked around it was clear, Satan’s Den. The place was lit only on the stage at the back, while people with pale skin sat drinking, talking or even making out in ways that lead to other stuff. He was dress in his long black leather trench coat hiding that large defined body as his hair was cut clean above the ears; some side burns framed his visage like a burnt frame of sandy blonde. It somewhat hung free and yet was kept tame, his eyes of ocean blue looked more clearly at one woman talking to a man at the bar.
Her hair was dyed in various colors; black, red and blonde, lips a crimson red while piercing in her nose, eyebrows and even her tongue as she stuck it out to French the male. He looked away, disgusted with her actions, not quite sure why he came in but a nudge from his left gave him his answer. It was a tall dog, the breed was a white Doberman with one eye green the other blue as his tail was pre-cut and so were his ears. He walked with his dog to the bar, but no one seemed to take notice of an un-collared mutt walking beside a stranger in a dark place. Reason was; it was a ghost dog only those chosen for the coming war of Good and Bad would be able to see the canine.
He used a hand to brush the coat open as he draped it over the stool rim and settled down on the cushion, hands on the bar top as he looked at the bar tender. He was a skinny guy with a shaved head and goatee with a mustache that made him look like his hair was running from his empty brain. He had some tattoo’s there, on his arms, the black t-shirt covered his top and those khaki pants were so baggy for such a stick figure. His dog just sat there beside him and laid down facing the door as the guy ordered his drink.
He had only picked up the drink, the music was low and gothic type as much as this place was but no one bugged him so he just sat there ready to drink the Strawberry Daiquiri when someone walked in. Usually he wouldn’t have bothered but he felt the dog sit up just as the person walked in. He turned and looked over his shoulder and saw a woman standing there in the sunlight as the doors where wide open. For a moment he figured he was dreaming, he was only half right. His eyes saw a figure standing in the sunlight with one black wing the other wing like some angel walking the thin lines of good and bad. He had to blink and look more clearly to see her, she had hair shoulder length that seemed to have a life of it’s own while it danced around her oval head with copper streaks running down the sides of her face while those black shades hid her eyes. Most looked at her but then discarded her for being one of them and not some nark; she was dressed in a black leather jacket, pants and boots with silver loop earrings that went twice in her ear lobes.
She skimmed the crowd and seemed to look towards him; after moments as she seemed to debate in her head where to sit and finally she claimed a stool beside the stranger. The leather on her body groaned with her feline movements as she had a certain air to her, confidence and power that usually meant one was dangerous. She ordered her drink, a scotch and tonic as she waited for the drink she looked over at him. Didn’t say anything as for some reason the dog got up and looked at her, she seemed to look back and then he figured out why the dog had him come in; to wait for her. She extended a hand and patted the canine’s head.
“Hey there boy, and what’s your name?” She asked, her voice pleasant as if she was talking to a child.
“His name is Wyn, and how is it you can see him?” The man finally turned his body around to face her as Wyn licked her hand and his stubby tail began wiggling as if happy.
“What? He’s a nice dog, and he’s out in the open in this dark place.” She raised her head, glanced at him as if he was weird and she moved to take a sip of her drink.
“I wonder what this place is like,” he quietly said to himself as he waltz into the bar and looked around the dark dank room.
He stepped into the vicinity, it was a strange place but was even stranger was the obscene name that was given but when he looked around it was clear, Satan’s Den. The place was lit only on the stage at the back, while people with pale skin sat drinking, talking or even making out in ways that lead to other stuff. He was dress in his long black leather trench coat hiding that large defined body as his hair was cut clean above the ears; some side burns framed his visage like a burnt frame of sandy blonde. It somewhat hung free and yet was kept tame, his eyes of ocean blue looked more clearly at one woman talking to a man at the bar.
Her hair was dyed in various colors; black, red and blonde, lips a crimson red while piercing in her nose, eyebrows and even her tongue as she stuck it out to French the male. He looked away, disgusted with her actions, not quite sure why he came in but a nudge from his left gave him his answer. It was a tall dog, the breed was a white Doberman with one eye green the other blue as his tail was pre-cut and so were his ears. He walked with his dog to the bar, but no one seemed to take notice of an un-collared mutt walking beside a stranger in a dark place. Reason was; it was a ghost dog only those chosen for the coming war of Good and Bad would be able to see the canine.
He used a hand to brush the coat open as he draped it over the stool rim and settled down on the cushion, hands on the bar top as he looked at the bar tender. He was a skinny guy with a shaved head and goatee with a mustache that made him look like his hair was running from his empty brain. He had some tattoo’s there, on his arms, the black t-shirt covered his top and those khaki pants were so baggy for such a stick figure. His dog just sat there beside him and laid down facing the door as the guy ordered his drink.
He had only picked up the drink, the music was low and gothic type as much as this place was but no one bugged him so he just sat there ready to drink the Strawberry Daiquiri when someone walked in. Usually he wouldn’t have bothered but he felt the dog sit up just as the person walked in. He turned and looked over his shoulder and saw a woman standing there in the sunlight as the doors where wide open. For a moment he figured he was dreaming, he was only half right. His eyes saw a figure standing in the sunlight with one black wing the other wing like some angel walking the thin lines of good and bad. He had to blink and look more clearly to see her, she had hair shoulder length that seemed to have a life of it’s own while it danced around her oval head with copper streaks running down the sides of her face while those black shades hid her eyes. Most looked at her but then discarded her for being one of them and not some nark; she was dressed in a black leather jacket, pants and boots with silver loop earrings that went twice in her ear lobes.
She skimmed the crowd and seemed to look towards him; after moments as she seemed to debate in her head where to sit and finally she claimed a stool beside the stranger. The leather on her body groaned with her feline movements as she had a certain air to her, confidence and power that usually meant one was dangerous. She ordered her drink, a scotch and tonic as she waited for the drink she looked over at him. Didn’t say anything as for some reason the dog got up and looked at her, she seemed to look back and then he figured out why the dog had him come in; to wait for her. She extended a hand and patted the canine’s head.
“Hey there boy, and what’s your name?” She asked, her voice pleasant as if she was talking to a child.
“His name is Wyn, and how is it you can see him?” The man finally turned his body around to face her as Wyn licked her hand and his stubby tail began wiggling as if happy.
“What? He’s a nice dog, and he’s out in the open in this dark place.” She raised her head, glanced at him as if he was weird and she moved to take a sip of her drink.
