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There isn't that many people I can thank, this was the result of pure boredom and spontaneity, but those I can thank the world will know their names. First off myself, without you who would I be? Nothing in the most literal sense of the word. Alex, the best damn girlfriend a man can ask for, thank you for being by my side and continually showing me love and support. I love you.
Chapter 1
A downpour of despair fell upon the city, that city so full of sin, that city so selfish. The rain washed away any morality and any virtue that may have clung to those skyscrapers which they, so proud, built. It washed away any hope that remained under bridges and tucked away in alleyways. Optimistic vagabonds dampen by the saliva from a million mouths of the heavens. Mouths that smile on the lucky, the prosperous, but spit on the down trotted and poor.
A canopy of umbrellas concealed the pavement below. Those umbrellas were carried in the hands of the masses, dronesfresh off a never ending assembly line. The drones, so afraid that the droplets of condensation might cause a short circuit, clench their umbrellas and continue to march to their meaningless professions.
Each with a different complaint, but with all the same meaning. Some with their minds set on fulfilling their sexual desires. One man thought, I hope I get laid tonight; while another, with eyes transfixed on a woman’s posterior, thought, look at that bitch’s ass. With all the rest contemplating on the most common of man’s sins. The things I’d do with a million bucks, a man longed for great wealth, in contrast is a woman with more modest yearnings; damn I wish I had some money. Still the thoughts of some were not sustained to their minds. They voiced their wants, needs, and empty justifications through their cellular phones. They held the phones with such care one would think they were holding infants.
“Babe, I know I was late last night, but I’ll make it up to you.” I’ll make it up to you, a tawdry excuse to mask a night of adultery, along with other corruptions of the soul. An addiction to the pleasures of the flesh lead men and women, alike, to hurt those who care most for them.
“I’m going to need an extension on that loan… yeah another one.” A man, fearing for his own safety, sacrifices his pride and dignity. Felt-covered tables were his ruin, forcinghim to live in his deplorable situation.
“Sir, I’ve been in lower management for so long please I need a raise, a promotion, anything.” A brave, feeble coward, asserts himself, grovels at the feet of a man. The feet of a man that holds no real power. No particular or superior physical attribute; his intellect is not on par with the Greats. The man only holds scraps of paper, dyed green, covered in seemingly meaningless symbols. What real value could a slip of paper really hold? That man’s true power is to feed the avarice, the greed, of his fellow man.
And it goes on each one different, but each with the same meaning. Ingrates with pathetic lives just waiting for the end, having it all in hand, given every opportunity but they threw it away.
In the streets cars drove by, wheels ran through puddles, splashing water on those afoot on the sidewalks. Not even one shakes a fist in anger as they stand there, water dripping from their clothes, gawking obtusely at one another.
Taxis were everywhere, rows of yellow moving in either direction, occasionally stopping to pick up new passengers.
From within the crowd one woman stood out. All the others, exact carbon copies of the last, with the next losing more and more of their individuality, but she was unique. Her foot steps were not in synchronous with the others. In a sea of black and gray, a bright yellow sun dress draped over her voluptuous body. An odd choice for such a night. The tapering of the dress pays complements to her form. Her face, sweet and compassionate, free of the hollow cheeks or seared lips of an amphetamine dependent whore. Her hair cascaded over her shoulders, some down her back, and some down over her breast. It was the color of gold and appeared to glow. Could she have been an angel, a divine being sent to this wrenched world, that depraved city as a beam of hope and humanity?
From the corner of her eye the woman saw the silhouette of a body. In the alley, perpendicular to the sidewalk, a shadow sat rocking back-and-forth against the wall. She stood there, staring, as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. She saw that under the filth of an old blanket sat a boy and a girl.
In the darkness the boy turned his head toward the street and glanced at her. The crowd continued to progress, but as the woman stood in their way, they merely changed course and navigated around her and returned to their original route.
Their eyes met, his-to-hers and hers-to-his. Thoughts began to arrange themselves within the woman’s mind; Damn dirty little bastard. I bet you won’t make it through the night… good! One less piece of trash in the world. In disgust the woman turned her head and spat. A glob of saliva and mucus fell to the ground, just as another droplet of rain. The mass of yellow and white hit one of the many puddles, creating a ripple then sinking.
The woman turned and walked away, pass the corner of the building’s wall and out of sight.
As she walked from his field of vision the boy looked toward the ground. He saw his shoes, worn down from countless hours of walking throughout the city. His feet were positioned in a puddle, with water seeping through his shoes several holes, but he did not care, if he were to move he might wake her. He looked at the girls face as she laid asleep, her head buried in his chest.
The boy had no thoughts of malice toward the women that had just showed so much disdain toward him, he was fine with where he was.
Her compassionate face, so kind and sweet; her beautiful hair, so brilliant and perfect; and her body so attractive, they were just a facade. They were just a skin covering her ugly being, a vessel holding her rotting innards. She was no angel, just one of the other six-billion-and-some-odd others that were the same.
The world was uncaring, full of proud sinners and meek saints. The world was dying from its past evils. The world was as it always was.
The boy’s name was Felix, his eyes were as dark as coal; they were windows to a broken and tattered soul. His hair was just as dark, unkempt, with clumps of hair bulging out in every direction. The rags he wore settled over his tiny frame, like they would on a hanger. The beautiful girl that lay on him was Rose. Beneath her eyelids were concealed bright blue eyes. Her long dark hair trickled over her shoulders.
“So man, what’s your plans for tonight?” Came the high pitched voice of a man.
“You know, hang out, bang my old lady, you know the same old.” A second voice, also that of a man’s. His voice was deep, in contrast to the others.
“I’ll probably just lie on the couch, beat off and fall asleep.”
“I hear that, you poor bastard.” The other man said with a chuckle.
From deep within the depths and shadows of the alleyway emerged two men. They were shabby, wearing clothes that were several sizes too large. They both wore large hooded sweat shirts, with pockets along the abdominal section of the shirt. Both had there hands in their shirt pockets. The one that spoke in a deep voice wore a black shirt, while the other wore a gray shirt.
They walked in the direction of Felix and Rose unnoticed.
As they approached and saw the two lying there, they cut their conversation short and made no further noise.
When they were within an arms length, it was far too late for Felix to react…
The one wearing black’s hand came from his pocket, revealing a gun; a small 38 caliber revolver. The other man seized Rose by the hair, pulling her from Felix. She awoke, thrashing her legs and rapidly looking this way and that way to try to figure out what was happening.
Felix scrambled to his feet. The man pointed the gun at him. He stood there, staring down the barrel of a gun.
“Well man,” said the one in gray, “we sure do have a fine bitch here, don’t we.” He ran the back of his hand across Rose’s cheek, tears wet his fingers.
“Hell yeah! She hardly looks dirty. Still man, I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t trust that pussy.” The one in black replied, turning his head to look at his partner, neglecting Felix.
“No shit Sherlock! What are you stupid? I got a condom.” With his free hand the man patted his right back pocket.
The one in gray had his fingers tangled in Rose’s hair. She desperately held on to his wrist to help relieve the strain her body was putting on each of her hair follicles. Tears flowed from her eyes and down her face. What’s going on? She thoughtthrough the waves of pain, she could not hear the conversation that was taking place just feet a way. But Felix heard it all, even with a gun aimed at him, he did not think about his fate, he only cared for the safety of the one he loved.
Passers-by on the street could hear Rose’s screams, they could see the gun pointed at Felix. They knew what was happening and what would happen. That man has a gun, what can I do? I have children that depend on me, a woman looked away and continued to walk.Surely some one will help that girl. Unfortunately the true nature of some showed its self in the form of truly disturbing thoughts. Damn I left my camera at home,God damn it, the disappointment of one, with not being able to later feed his twisted desires. I’ll get my ass thrown in jail if the police come and see me watching, I hope someone has a camera! The hopes of another, with reliance that other like minded, morally deprived, individuals might capture the moment for eternity.Damn, this is going to be so hot, and the simple, disturbing, thought of a true reprobate.
Standing there, without away to assist her, Felix could only utter, “Please, don’t.” in a barely audible tone. Two words, filled with such pain and so much despair…
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