11-20-2009, 03:00 AM
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TELL ME, ARE YOU FREE, WHEN THE FEAR FALLS ON YOU?
Private; Halifax
The sun was just beginning to make its descent toward the horizon, casting the streets in a murky orange glow as it fell. The color always added a little life to the dead city streets, but it changed nothing. They were just the same old streets painted in a different shade of monochrome. Dante picked his way through a familiar street, trying to block out the noise of some memories screaming in the back of his head with a mind-numbing walk. Yet it was just his luck that it wasn’t doing a thing to help. He could almost see Viola there in front of him, babbling in her pathetic and needy ways. In the next moment she was screaming at him, begging him to stop his ruthless beating. The boy could feel her standing there in front of him, her large form battered and bruised by his own doing. Her eyes were always set in an accusing glare, the familiar amethyst gaze blaming him for his deeds where her words could not.
Before he could even let the guilt build up and gnaw at him, he growled in frustration, choosing to let his anger flare up instead of the remorse. There was only one thing Dante ever found to ward off the spectre, and that was to get pissed drunk. So with that goal in mind, the doggish male set his mindless wandering into a determined pace, knowing exactly where he would stop by. The bar was a couple of blocks away, familiar to him as he had scouted the place out a few times before. It was in good shape and still relatively well-stocked. He would take advantage of its bounty now, all too eager to lose himself in the haze of the fire-water. He stepped right into the little building, still too focused on drowning out the noise of his dreadful memories to notice the scent of another lingering around the place.
The sun was just beginning to make its descent toward the horizon, casting the streets in a murky orange glow as it fell. The color always added a little life to the dead city streets, but it changed nothing. They were just the same old streets painted in a different shade of monochrome. Dante picked his way through a familiar street, trying to block out the noise of some memories screaming in the back of his head with a mind-numbing walk. Yet it was just his luck that it wasn’t doing a thing to help. He could almost see Viola there in front of him, babbling in her pathetic and needy ways. In the next moment she was screaming at him, begging him to stop his ruthless beating. The boy could feel her standing there in front of him, her large form battered and bruised by his own doing. Her eyes were always set in an accusing glare, the familiar amethyst gaze blaming him for his deeds where her words could not.
Before he could even let the guilt build up and gnaw at him, he growled in frustration, choosing to let his anger flare up instead of the remorse. There was only one thing Dante ever found to ward off the spectre, and that was to get pissed drunk. So with that goal in mind, the doggish male set his mindless wandering into a determined pace, knowing exactly where he would stop by. The bar was a couple of blocks away, familiar to him as he had scouted the place out a few times before. It was in good shape and still relatively well-stocked. He would take advantage of its bounty now, all too eager to lose himself in the haze of the fire-water. He stepped right into the little building, still too focused on drowning out the noise of his dreadful memories to notice the scent of another lingering around the place.
OH, TO BREATHE IN FIRE, AND KNOW I'M FREE