red solo cup

Arthur Monahan · 02-20-2012, 07:14 PM

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Sorry Shaw, I would have this up sooner if it was not for making a table just for this thread. @_@ Also, I'm sooo very tempted for Arty to sing this song later on... *derp*
Btw, anyone may correct me if plastic cups are not able to survive the toll of time; I assumed they would, being unopened and in a damp, dark place.

Word Count → 578

Everything was quiet. Usually, Arthur found peace in the silence, as did his parents, with the distant sound of gulls and the lapping of the bay few yards away. But this was dead silence. No noisy birds broke it, and the rolling water was far from where the boy was at that moment. The only sounds that disrupted the quiet were the boy’s muffled footsteps and the occasional rustling of drifting human garbage. The only other things that accompanied him was the dead cars that littered the streets and the plant life that somehow managed to squeeze their way from the solid rock that covered the ground.

Monahan knew he was alone, but he could not help but grip the bag that was slung over his shoulders even tighter, as if fearing someone would suddenly rush in from no one to slit his throat. I don’t even see how those bloody humans could live in such a creepy place, he thought as he looked up at the beaten down, broken-glassed buildings that enclosed around him as he scurried past them. He knew now why some could reject the more humane lifestyle; who would want to live in such a God-forsaken hellhole? Never mind such things, he thought to himself, trying to focus on the task at hand, It’s not like I am gonna go sleepin’ in this neighborhood, just takin’ a gander at things.

It was late noon, the sun beginning to set, but there was still enough light for the pale wolfdog to see his way around. What was he exactly doing, poking around in the more run-downed part of Halifax? Well, he was hoping to scavenge some items that have been on his wish list for a while. Mainly a thing his mother would probably chew him out for, while his father would proceed to beat the sense he was born without into him. He paused when he saw a gritty sign that had long lost its color reading “E R ‘S STOR “. Stor…? Store!

Immediately, he leaped through the broken display window, careful not to step on any glass. Most the shelves were either tossed over or empty, with a few random items still on display. Quickly, Arthur rummaged through whatever was left, hoping to find something useful, as well his prized item. Sadly, all he came up with were soggy cardboard boxes, a hammer, and an unopened pack of red cups whose colors were quite faded. He decided to take the hammer and cups, never knowing when he was going to need them. He quickly exited the store, and continued glumly down the street.

Feeling disappointed, he barely passed up a building that was shady looking, and if he did not take a chanced glance towards it, would have went on his not-so merry way. What his green eye beheld was a familiar word: bar. Faint, nearly washed away the word was, but it was there! Now with a devilish grin relishing on his face, he pushed up the door, which was quite difficult do accomplished, considering that it had not been opened for thirty years. After busting down the door, Monahan was greeted with a sudden gust of dust and the scent of very stale alcohol, which left him coughing for a moment. But, once the breathing fit was over, the boy dove into the building, leave the door behind him opened. Now, all there was to do was to find it…

Table by Aly, code by the Mentors!

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