Hurricane, a drama

Started by Catiarp, May 05 2012 10:45 AM

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#1 Catiarp

Just Registered

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LocationPortugal

Posted 05 May 2012 - 10:45 AM

Okay, I'm going to be honest: I don't like TSR's new system for stories. Everytime I tried to submit a story with more than one picture at time, he wouldn't let me. So I got tired and decided to start posting on the forums! Plus, the story here looks much better!

So, for those who haven't read chapter one, you can read it here.

Oh, and let me take the chance to apologize if there's any mistake in the story. And for those who want to see the pics of the chapter, they're attatched to this post. Just in case

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Chapter 2, «Dreamer»

It was an easy task for him – he had already become highly experienced when it came out to break into homes, making the method increasingly sophisticated over time. Like stealing an ice cream to a child, he would say.
Opening the door slowly and quietly, the man in black enters the small wooden house step by step, addressing himself more to the inside.

Along the old bed of worn aspect, he sees the one he’s been seeking sleeping peacefully. How she had grown over the past three years, he thought. Her chest rose and fell with each exhale of the air, the body twisted on itself. The last time he saw her, she was an immature teenager, but now she revealed herself in the figure of an attractive and irresistible young adult.
Now he had found her and he wouldn’t leave without her. No, he wouldn’t waste years of searching in vain.
Approaching the sleeping body, the painted black gloves lowered, touching the body lightly.

“Get off me!” I cried hysterically.

I rose quickly over the old quilt, absorbing several gulps of air, and looked across the whole room searching him.

There was nobody there.

It was only a dream, thank God…, I thought, relieved. I couldn’t bear the idea of running away again, having recently arrived in this city not explored yet.

With the purr of my stomach, I went to the refrigerator where I noticed it was completely empty. I can’t starve!, I thought.

Noticing it was still day, I decided to advance the shopping day for the moment, no ulterior motives to return to sleep.
Going out the door, I stopped to think how I was going to the center at that hour, without any transport passing by. Despite the additional charge, I called the taxi central, requiring one to come quickly.

How far should I be?, I inquired, looking at the clock where it passed ten minutes since the call was made.

Turning my back to the road, I noticed the strange ledge that didn’t fit with one of the foundations of the house and I approached.

Holy cow! It’s a bike!

“Is anyone here?” I called. Someone could have left the vehicle there by mistake. However, its rusty air wasn’t fooling – the bike shouldn’t be used for years. I assumed that it came included with the house.

Despite the suspicion, I couldn’t help feeling excited. A motorbike of my own. Mine. It needed badly a few repairs, which would probably cost me a bit if I would go to an experienced mechanic, but I was willing to take the risk. If mom knew of my new gift, she was pretty able to smash it and throw it into the trash.
Hearing the taxi arriving, I left the new toy back and I followed the trip.

The misty green landscape ran through the windows of the car as a blur while I revised again the list of things to buy. Eventually I found myself remembering the bike.

“Excuse me,” I said, reaching ahead in the seat. “do you know of any workshop where they don’t cover much for some arrangements, sir?”

The man at the wheel looked sideways at me in front of the mirror.

“We have Nel’s workshop, the only one in town, but I warn you that usually they tend to avail. Try the junkyard – there’s a handy kid and he usually doesn’t charge any fees.”

I considered my options and decided to opt for the less expensive, though risky. “And do you know how late he’s there?”

“Usually he stays ’til the end of the day, around seven. Some days he gets to spend the night there. Some say the boy doesn’t regulate well from the head, I say it’s passion for the craft!”

And then, on a journey of nearly half an hour, the man spoke of how he had become a taxi driver and the romantic adventure with Francine, a french clandestine which reached to his wife. I nodded my head only for each question posed, sounding more like the man was speaking to himself. I sighed as soon as the yellow car stopped and I quickly went out to the street.

The fresh air came to meet my face, causing a brief chill. I started walking, ready to dispatch the shopping as soon as possible.

Later that afternoon...

“Here we are, miss. It’s 10$.” The robust and frowning woman announced, turning back waiting for payment.

I gave her a green note of the same value, leaving the yellow vehicle. On every purchase, I had accepted home delivery, sparing me of carrying bags and more bags around the city.
The atmosphere in this place was exclusively heavier and loaded with chemicals released by the piles of garbage that were presented in a fairly wide field.

I inspected visually the whole lot until I found someone nestled beside a pile of rusty iron objects. I gently cleared my throat as I approached, leading the same person to face myself.

“Good evening, miss.”, he said when rising. “Do you need any help? Is there anything you want to find but you aren’t making it?"

“No, no” I interrupted before he could launch any more questions. “What I really need is some services when it comes to mechanics.”

The guy seemed somewhat disappointed, which was denoted in his voice now not so enthusiastic.

“Then it’s not me who you want to speak to. You can find your man in the office. “He said pointing to the concrete shed in the corner of the lot.

I thanked. Upon arriving at the pile of iron I could only hear silence, nothing usual for a workshop. I looked through the incorporated window next to the door trying to see something, but the shutters didn’t facilitate the work. I gave up and decided to knock on the door once for all. The voice that came from inside, husky and manly, caused me astonishment and chills, in addition to tease my curiosity and hesitation.

“Come in, the door is open.”

Sighing, I got inside imagining the picture of the kid given by the taxi driver. I had never deceived and surprised myself so much before.