Memoirs of a Wretch. (18+)

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JonnyJerny
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Memoirs of a Wretch. (18+)

Post by JonnyJerny »

((Hi, I'm Jon. I'm terrible at writing. Here's something I've been writing that I'd like to incorporate into ALFA. It's short. It's rough. I think it needs a ton of work. I just want to share it to get some insight on what I need to improve on. Please don't lynch me.))

I can't do this anymore. Annabelle. My last sunshine in this cesspool. Mum told me to look out for her. To care for her. To protect her. Look at her now. Blind. Sick. Starving. But her dreams, her ambition, her heart, it gets larger and larger after every miserable day. Everyone I've killed, everything I've stolen, every lie I've told. It's for her. That pathetic whelp. That miserable soul. And she doesn't even realize that. That's fine. No child wants to look at the decaying walls they're trapped in. I'll let her be naive. It's the only way any of this will work out.

And now she's caught the plague. Our luck had to run out sometime. They stormed in. Those silver knights. Menacing warriors, noble creatures, so they say. They took her away from me, my cries and screams muffled to all. Not one person would care about another tally mark on the board. It's part of everyone's life. Death.
No. Annabelle can't. I won't let it happen. She doesn't know any better. She just wants to be happy. What a terrible sibling I'd be to deny that fledgling happiness. But it's so, so far from my grip.

But the plague, it kills slowly. It's not too late. The healers must have something by then. They need to, for her. For me. I don't get to see her anymore. A messenger relays our letters to each other, brightening my sorrow by just a bit. But what then? Be given a second chance at life, a second chance at blissfulness, only to be cast back into the prison they call "home" for us? I can't let that happen. I won't let that happen. She'll see the sunshine she longs for. With blood and sweat, I'll make her innocence glide through the night. I'll slip out when she doesn't know. I'll have a kingdom, just for her, when she gets better. She'll fall into my arms and tell me how I'm the best sister one could ever have. She'll do that, if I can just get a bit more time.

There's got to be someplace out there that I can take from the fat cats. A place I can seize, for myself and her. Where plague and starvation and crime isn't a problem. I'll write. On the walls, in the stores, on the signs. I'll steal what I can. Books, money, dolls, bread. I'll lie. I'll convince the locals that I'm insane, that I'm just another nut. Then I'll manipulate them in the shadows. Doing evil doesn't concern me anymore. I'm not a person anymore. I'm a wretch inside. But Annabelle isn't. There's still good in her, she's not corrupted like me. Every evil I commit is a step closer to seeing Annabelle's bubbly smile once more.

((And there's my edgy prologue. Thanks in advance for any critique you may have. I really need it. I haven't done this in so long.))
Last edited by JonnyJerny on Mon Dec 24, 2012 1:56 pm, edited 1 time in total.
[22:46] <Ronan_> I once stabbed a man in Reno just to watch him bleed.
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Re: Memoirs of a Wretch.

Post by Rumple C »

Brilliant!
12.August.2015: Never forget.
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Re: Memoirs of a Wretch.

Post by hollyfant »

If that's terrible, you'll need to recalibrate. 8)
A bit of critique: I like the short sentences, it gives the character a bit of added identity. But it might be tiring to read longer texts in a "stuttering" structure, so I hope next instalments will occasionally switch to a 3rd person view and more flowing prose.
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Re: Memoirs of a Wretch.

Post by JonnyJerny »

I totally get what you're saying. But this "ambiguous" style is how I've been writing for ages. I'm very weak at a third person point of view, because I can't grasp the character's emotions and feelings as much.

As for the "stuttering" style of writing... Yeah, I've been doing that for awhile too. I'm not saying it's my -ONLY- way to write but it's a way I feel the most comfortable in. I'm not very detailed in my writing. I like being ambiguous and vague, I think it's strong to do and provokes thought into the reader.

And I really do think this is sub-par, at best. The more I reread it the more flaws I can point out, how I could've made it better. Sad life of a writer, I guess. Never being satisfied with your work.

But I digress. Thanks for the feedback.
[22:46] <Ronan_> I once stabbed a man in Reno just to watch him bleed.
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Re: Memoirs of a Wretch.

Post by puny »

loved it!
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Re: Memoirs of a Wretch.

Post by Castano »

faulkner wrote an entire book like this. it was horrible to read. he won a nobel prize because of it.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Sound_and_the_Fury

keep up the good work.
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On bad governance: "I intend to bring democracy to this nation, and if anybody stands in my way I will crush him and his family."
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Re: Memoirs of a Wretch.

Post by JonnyJerny »

((Hi. I'm Jon. I'm still terrible at writing.))

Here I am. At the docks. The dingy docks. The smelly docks. The vile docks. Ugh. It disgusts me. It revolts me. But it's the only, relatively quiet place in this city. Been here for about a month now. I'm used to this. Haven't even set foot outside the city. I'm not interested in getting myself killed right now. I set myself on the edge of the docks. Sitting. Thinking. Pondering. About Annabelle. How is she? Is she okay? Is she dead? Am I doing all this for nothing? I sighed. I gazed at the ocean.

Then they walked in. Dock workers. Or sailors. Hell, could've been pirates for all I care. Reeked of the ocean. Disgusting. The captain started reveling about a card game they'll have with someone. Card game. High stakes. High stakes means gold. Gold. Rich. Power. I froze at the mention of money. Those clunky shiny pieces, soaring through my mind. Power means wealth. Wealth means power. I need power. I need wealth. It's the only reason I'm staying at this dump. Finally, I snap out of my conscience. I approach the ringleader of the crew. Tall man, missing an eye, looked like he's been in a few battles. Not going to lie. He was intimidating as hell. I swallowed a lump in my throat. My dry mouth opens. I was surprised at how I was able to perpetuate the uneasy conversation.

"Hm? What's this about gold, lads?" The man looked at me confusingly. Poor nut. Probably never seen a lady his entire seafaring life.
"Eh? Jus' a card game. Ya play?"
I froze. I've never held playing cards my entire life. I didn't have the luxury to gamble away my money. I swallowed hard and cleared my throat. I yawned, to make myself look apathetic, to look more professional. To look less of a child.

"First time for everything, no?"
"Arr... Hard ta tell if ya bein' serious, or pulling me leg lass. Stop da bullshit and gimme a straight answer, yah? Ya either play, or ya don't. Ya can't even cut a deck, and stick a queen up ya sleeve at the same time, I bet!"

My eyes widened. My mouth turned dry. I blinked dumbly at the man. Still, I kept my stance. I kept my horrible bluff going. I opened my mouth. My words were strained. I sounded like a puppy barking at the hound. Ugh. Pathetic.

"Who... Who do you think I am?! Course I can do that." I felt my body tremble. I felt myself melting. I felt the sweat on my brow.

"Ah... Den ya better prove it to me." The captain tosses a deck of cards to me. "Go on... I'm waitin!"

There I was. With a deck of cards. A stack of foreign playthings. A pile of alien faces. I peered dumbly at the cards. "Uhm..." One of my hands instinctively grazes the top of the deck. I felt my cheeks blossom. My clumsy hands attempted to shuffle the cards, to no avail. I furrowed my brow. Too late. I've been caught. There's nothing I can do to make this situation better for me... Unless...

I look back up to the sailors. They were confused. They were looking at me like I was a freak. I probably was to them. My worried, confused expression transformed quickly into one of my false moods. I throw the deck up into the air, cards gliding through the air, landing into the salty ocean. I slowly approached the captain. I plastered a grin onto my face. I fixed my eyes to his dull orbs. I chuckled cunningly.

"Listen... Enough with this child's play. I know what you're trying to do. Con some poor idiot out there for some cheap gold. That gold can be easily yours, you know. No wasting time on petty little games." I repeatedly flashed him a smile. I kept flipping my hair. I kept glowing my eyes at him. My attempts at flirting were pathetic. While I sweet talked the muscled moron, one of my hands slipped into his coinpurse, deftly digging through, retrieving a small pouch of gold. I quickly retreated my arm back to myself, raising my pouch-filled hand in front of the captain. I widened my eyes.I gasped. I pretended to be surprised. "Oh! You poor thing, you seemed to dropped this! You need to be more careful with that!". I stopped my ruse. My surprised expression changed into a smug smirk. I dropped the pouch in front of the man.

"...Now you see what I mean? Hm?" I chuckled playfully in front of his confused face.

The moron acted just as I expected. He glanced to his purse, then to the pouch I laid for him on the ground. He cursed, then bent over to retrieve the undeserved gold, muttering to himself, "...bitch...". What a gentlemen.

"...Alright, lass, ya think ye impress'd me with your petty thievery?" He grumbled. "...Aye, ya got talent in that. Fine, fine. We'll do it your way. Ya steal from our main man, ya come back with the gold, we split it fifty fifty. Deal, lass?" He looked at me with a stern face. Fifty percent. That's half. "half" isn't "all". I need all if I ever want to see Annabelle again. I sighed. I couldn't bring myself to challenge his proposal. I'm up against not one bimbo, but three. If I'd have picked a fight with them, I'd be leaving the docks in a body bag. I pondered. Fifty percent. Fifty percent. Finally, I sighed. My options aren't exactly favoring me.

"...Fine, fine. Fifty percent. Where's your man? Tavern? Inn? Brothel?"
"Nay, nay... By that bridge ova there. You take his shit, you come back, you give me my share, and you get the fuck out. Ya get caught? Tough shit. We never saw you. Still up for it, wee little lass?" A devilish grin creeped onto his face. Ugh. Ass. I wanted to kill him right there. I took a deep breath and rolled my eyes.

"Yeah, yeah... See you in a few, champ."

I walked off where he told me my target would be. I walked to the bridge slowly. I faintly closed my eyes and took a deep breath, uttering a whisper to myself.

"...Annabelle..."
[22:46] <Ronan_> I once stabbed a man in Reno just to watch him bleed.
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Re: Memoirs of a Wretch.

Post by JonnyJerny »

((I don't even what was going through my head on this. Something I spat out while studying for finals. Thought my prose was bad? Well, you're in for a treat.))

Your eyes,
my beautiful lies,
made me start wondering why...
Why am I so tongue tied?
Why am I so obsessed with making you leave?
A head on my shoulder is a sign to run,
we've had it, we've had enough of this fun.
So stay low, stay quiet,
breathe air.
I'll come back to this shipwreck.
[22:46] <Ronan_> I once stabbed a man in Reno just to watch him bleed.
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Re: Memoirs of a Wretch.

Post by JonnyJerny »

Edit : Never mind
[22:46] <Ronan_> I once stabbed a man in Reno just to watch him bleed.
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Re: Memoirs of a Wretch.

Post by JonnyJerny »

The Golden Oak. Decent establishment. My favorite place to just sit down, and think. Cerebrate. Ponder. About this city. About the life I've thrust myself into. About home. About her. About her condition. Does she do the same? Does she cry herself to sleep every night like me, wondering where her sister, her supposed protector, ran off to? Does she write in a crude pocketbook, whining, crying, pleading for help? I don't hear from home anymore. I've assumed everyone thinks I'm dead. Good. The less involvement I have on Annabelle, the better of a person she'll be. But my goal. My promise. My lifelong commitment to her. This is all I have left to give her. I can't botch it. I CAN'T. But, back on track. The Golden Oak. Quiet place. I see a few faces come and go as I dwell in my corner. Dwarves, elves, men in tin suits, all sorts of people. They're loud. They can be obnoxious sometimes. They talk about things I don't care about. The faces get more and more familiar each day. I never talk to them. I try not to talk to them. I find no reason to. They let me do what I do, I let them do what they do. There's someone that stands out among the nameless crowd, though. A woman. I don't know what she is. Elf? Half Elf? Pale skin. Fairly Short. Wears glasses. Silver, long hair. She comes into this tavern, doing exactly what I do. Sit around a table, reading. Sometimes people will make conversation with her, while I observe from my unkempt corner. She seems to be well known. Respected. Trusted. Friendly. Some days it's just me and her in the atrium, we rest ourselves in opposite corners from each other. I periodically lift my head up from my journal to get a glance at her, glances she never returns. A mysterious creature. I'm sure she's great company. But I don't need company right now.

But, she finally approached me. I could hear her light footsteps getting louder, and louder. I froze. I blinked. My pencil dropped to the floor.

"...Seems a bit odd for the only two people in a tavern not to be talking to each other, don't you think?"

((I'm going to comic book this because my brain is not in the mindset to write right now. I'm so, so sorry.))
[22:46] <Ronan_> I once stabbed a man in Reno just to watch him bleed.
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Re: Memoirs of a Wretch.

Post by JonnyJerny »

<Reserved>
Last edited by JonnyJerny on Wed Dec 19, 2012 9:34 pm, edited 1 time in total.
[22:46] <Ronan_> I once stabbed a man in Reno just to watch him bleed.
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Re: Memoirs of a Wretch.

Post by JonnyJerny »

((Also unrelated. Sorry. I'm just trying to have fun with this. My girlfriend made me do this.))

Sigh. Another day, another grueling, agonizing shift. If it weren't for my college tuition, I'd have ditch this job months ago. Every day, every hour, I have to deal with douchebags and self-righteous, scruffy looking, hippy-loving liberals. It wouldn't be so bad if these goddamned liberals would stop hitting on me. Apparently, a 19 year old chick from Los Angeles is the dream girl for these mid 20's, pot-smoking assholes. I'm just here to give you coffee, you ass. Get your scrawny arms away from me.

Three months ago however, the same guy kept coming. Every day. For three months. I swear, this dude was addicted to caffeine. I remember the day he first came in, like it was yesterday. He was... Kind of cute, I guess. Pale, sort of tall but not really, a smug grin stayed on his face every time I see him. He had blonde hair, with that combed style that you see preppy kids in high school showing off. Aw. He was a lovable loser. I don't know where he got his fashion sense, but... Oh my. He was... Different from the Hollister and American Eagle dickheads that hung around here. It was something different every time he walked through those doors. He always wore sunglasses, which he placed over his hair when he walked in. His occult glow juxtaposed with the drab walls and people. It was... Interesting seeing him.

God, the first time we saw each other. My hair was undone and all over the place, I didn't sleep that night. I was in bitch mode that morning. It was 7:30. This bemusing dude walked in and my head immediately turned to see a scarf toting, beaming white boy. He flashed me a small smirk, which I returned. I didn't think much at the time, so I treated him as any other customer.

"Hi, what'll it be?"

He didn't respond. He just looked at me. No, he stared at me. For at least a minute. Is this dude for real? I rolled my eyes, and repeated myself. In a more misanthropic tone.

"Hi. What'll it be?"
"Coffee." His smirk never left his face.

Oh, so he was one of those guys. I rolled my eyes again, but flashed him a smile. He paid, I gave him what he asked for, and he'd flash me the most gorgeous smile I've ever seen a douche gave me. "Thanks." Every day Tuesday to Saturday, at the exact same time (Not that I was keeping track) he'd do the exact same thing. Stare at me, smile, and give that aggravating one word response that I'm accustomed to.

Some weeks I didn't go to work, so I could concentrate on my studies. Jerry filled in for me. Every time I wasn't working, he'd call me, always chuckling uncontrollably to himself.

"Hello?"
"Hey... Sup Kaley."
"Hey, what's up?"
"Some punk-ass white kid is wondering where you're at."

I'd sigh and smile to myself.

"Yeah? Tell him I said hi."

That's when I'd hung up.

Who the hell is this guy?
[22:46] <Ronan_> I once stabbed a man in Reno just to watch him bleed.
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Re: Memoirs of a Wretch.

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"...Seems a bit odd for the only two people in a tavern not to be talking to each other, don't you think?"

Gods. Why here? Why now? I don't come to a tranquil place to be subjugated to this sort of thing. I closed my journal and looked up at her, with what I hoped was a curious face. My dry mouth opened as I uttered a string of words.

"What... What do you mean?"

The woman shrugged and blinked, a blank expression plastered onto her pale face.

"Well... You're just always by yourself, every time I see you. Don't you want company?"

No. Company gets you killed. Company wastes time. I don't want to get killed. I don't want to waste time. I cleared my throat and opened my mouth.

"Its...It's fine... I'm okay by myself..."

I was beginning to feel uncomfortable. I don't care how much this lass was well known, or how friendly she is, or how many kittens she's saved. She's bothering me. I'm trying to think, to write, to forget, and she's not letting me do that. I get up from my seat, my body was trembling with every step I took. I clumsily took my belongings and and sloppily stuff them into my pack. I looked onto the woman once more, studying her features. She certainly was pale. Paler than anyone I've ever seen.

"Are...You sure?" She raised an eyebrow. "You don't need to be afraid to ask for help..."
"Err... Well... I... I need to... Uhm... Have to... Got to... Igottagodosomething!"

I didn't wait for a response after that. I darted out of the atrium, stumbling once, no, twice, before reaching the exit. Seemed like a mile before I reached it. The cold, harsh weather was an unexpected change from the hospitality I received inside the establishment. I hate it here. The Golden Oak is the only place where I feel safe. I don't care if the knights start handing out bread to the poor in the streets, that won't change me from constantly looking behind myself, waiting, no, anticipating for that dagger in the back. I didn't know where to go from here. Forcing myself out of my self-proclaimed home, because someone wanted to talk. Pathetic. Who in the right mind would do that? I sighed. Looks like it's time to look for somewhere to stay. I trudged along in the area around The Golden Oak. It really isn't that bad. Nothing shady going on, maybe a couple of thugs here and there. I leaned against a wall. It felt cold. Desolate. I winced as my back was pressed onto it. Despite the freezing weather, and the uproarious air, it was a decent place to hole up in. I digged through my pack, sorting through my belongings. My journal. A locket. A crude, small, rugged book that was barely held together. A small knife. I took the locket and rested it around my palm. I didn't open it for a long time. I just stared at the front of it. I remember this. Annabelle told me how badly she wanted a golden necklace. She drew pictures of jewelry every day, leaving them on the table for me to see. Mum was long dead during this. I've just started my thievery. Whenever I came home, there was a new doodle on the table. I took every picture in my hand, and studied it. I'd cry every time. One day, I finally had the gall to attempt to get her a necklace. Long story short, it was in my grasp and I failed. I was caught. I was running away with my stolen goods, and in my haste I dropped the necklace. All that was recovered from that ruse was this stupid, silver locket. She asked me why I came home so late that night. I never gave her a real answer.

I opened the locket. There she was. Annabelle. Her beautiful face. Her long, golden hair. I couldn't help myself. I smiled at the picture. I stayed, slumped in my seating, just staring at that photo. Rain drops ruined it. Stained it. I didn't care. Nothing can wash away her innocence. Her personality. She's the only person in my life worth protecting. When I woke up that morning, my belongings, my pack, the picture, myself, were all drenched. Serves me right in my questionable choice of refuge. I yawned and drowsily placed everything into my pack and drudged along. I hate mornings. It's a big reminder of the continuation of my life. Thought you were in your dreams? Thought you climbed out of hell? Nope. You're back where you started. Enjoy.

I didn't know where to go after that, so I just went to the docks. I watched the ocean until it was dark outside. I started thinking about that woman in The Golden Oak. I don't know why, of all the faces that come and go, that she's the one that springs up in my mind. I thought back to our encounter. I thought on what could've gone differently, if I didn't dart off. I thought about why I darted off. I couldn't find a reason why. Well, I did find one reason. I was an idiot. She was just trying to be friendly. It's a damn inn. No one is going to stab me in an inn. I sighed. It was getting cold. I could feel myself shivering. I hopped up and walked to The Golden Oak. No one was in the atrium. Good. I had a few moments to myself. I spent it reading, a book Annabelle told me about. It was about dwarves and fairies and unicorns and other child's play. I smiled as I read it. It was her favorite book, and I could see why.

I heard the door swing open. I heard footsteps getting louder and louder every second. I heard someone whistling. From the corner of my eye I could see the figure approaching me. I could see the ends of her silver hair.

I froze.
[22:46] <Ronan_> I once stabbed a man in Reno just to watch him bleed.
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Re: Memoirs of a Wretch.

Post by JonnyJerny »

((Unrelated. Well, sort of related.))

I'm so sorry I'm not here tonight.
But I've lost my mind.
You should've known
I'm not happy here with you, anymore.
Your bright lights, your company,
It's not what I need.

It's never the same as it was before.
My legs carried me far.
There's still strength enough for one more fight.
I'm going to carry on.
I'm going to carry on the same songs.
Go back to when we were young.
Nights like this will fade away.
[22:46] <Ronan_> I once stabbed a man in Reno just to watch him bleed.
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Re: Memoirs of a Wretch.

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And there she was. The same silver haired woman from the other day. She walked past me, whistling some sort of tune to herself. She stood along the sides of the atrium, whistling this tune. On one hand, I was glad that I didn't have to make conversation with the lass. On the other, I felt obligated to. I've no friends here, no sense of direction of where to go. On top of that, I'm she sure isn't exactly thrilled with me running away from me. It took me what seemed like hours to finally call her over. I kept my face buried in my book, staring at strings of words, before I did so. I cleared my throat to get her attention. I plastered a painfully fake smile as I raised a hand to gesture her to come over. She smiled, and began walking towards me. I could already feel my body start to shiver. You're going to regret this, Micha.

"Ah. Done being bashful, are we?"
I didn't answer. I just kept smiling, studying her as she sat down. Her complexion reminded me of Annabelle, if she were more mature and older. Maybe that's why I remembered her face from the crowd. She sat down on the bench opposite of me. I cleared my throat again. I opened my mouth.

"Uhm...Hello... I just want to... Apologize about the other day... Hehe...". I ended with a nervous giggle. I could already feel my cheeks blossom.
"Oh? Ah, it's quite alright!"
"...Want me to buy you a drink?"
"Well, I don't want you to feel obligated to... But, if you must."

We sat in silence for at least thirty minutes. I'd move my head around, my eyes wandering around the atrium. Whenever they landed on the woman, her face was fixated at me, flashing me a small half smile, an expression that was enough for me to quickly divert my orbs away from her, back to aimless circles. By the time our drinks arrived, there were still no words exchanged between us. Okay, I apologized. I offered her a friendly gesture. What the hell do I do next? Oh, introduce myself. That'd probably be a good idea.

"...Uhm, what was your name again...?" I brought the glass to my lips, slightly wincing at the taste. Ugh.
She chuckled. "I don't think we've formally met, so this'd be your first time hearing it..." She sighed, and widened her smile. "It's Theresa."
I nodded in response, and repeated the name out loud. "Tuh-Rees-Uh...". Pretty name. Not as pretty as Annabelle though. We sat through a lingering silence. I tapped my fingers on the wooden table. My other hand was digging through my disheveled hair. Typical actions when I find myself nervous. What was she thinking during our hushed seating? Was she feeling bored? Annoyed? She barely even touched her drink. I tried not to look at her, to look at her mocking smile. If I were her, I would've been long gone. Finally, I opened my mouth, a pathetic squeak exiting my lips.

"...Micha... I guess I'm... New here..."
"New? Oh, that must be why you feel so nervous. What's wrong?"
"I guess I... I feel a bit lost."
"A little directionless, hm? What specifically brought you here?" She tilted her head curiously at me, as if I was some sort of wild animal.
"A new life for my..." I stopped mid sentence. What the hell was I doing? Was I really about to tell everyone I planned on stealing my way for some girl afar? Who in their right mind would actually believe that? I pondered the question for awhile, before finally clearing my throat and responding with a lie. Lying. One of the only few things I'm good at. The more I lie, the more I have to perpetuate those lies, and the more broken I end up. But it's not about me. It's about others. No. It's not about others. It's about her. Her only.

"Uhm...Adventure...Company... That sort of thing, I guess." I flashed my fake smile at her, watching her nod in response. I studied her features more carefully. Really not much to describe, at this point, besides her occult, pale face. She really does look like an older Annabelle.

"I see~. Well, I'm sure you'd find plenty of that around here. Is there something you need? Just tell me. Don't be shy"

Something I need... Now that I think about it, I could use some new clothes. The rags I was wearing weren't exactly in top condition. I didn't know where a tailor would be. I suppose I could ask for a bit of help on that.

"Well... I guess I need help finding a tailor... If that's alright with you...?" My fingers impulsively dug profusely into my hair. My legs were shaking as I anticipated her answer. Half of me wanted her to decline. But that'd get me nowhere.

"Oh, that'd be no trouble at all. Just give me a minute." She stood up from her bench, walking into what I could guess was her room. Probably to change. I continued to sit, peering down at my half empty glass. She's been nice to me so far. I guess it was wrong to just throw her aside as just another apathetic face in the crowd. Her similar appearance to Annabelle didn't help. That being said, I don't want to cling onto her. I don't need to be her Annabelle. She attracts too many faces. I appreciate the friendly gesture. But I can't intertwine myself with her. I just can't. She finished dressing and came back, wearing new clothes smiling and humming to herself. She seemed to be in a great mood.

"Shall we?"

I gulped down the rest of my drink and stood up, stuffing my belongings into my pack. "Lead the way."

We left The Golden Oak and I followed her, like a lost puppy. Our walk was silent, not a single word exchanged to each other. I kept watching her. The way she walked, how she just... Kept a smile on her face. Did she genuinely want to help me? Why would someone just do that? Are people really this nice? I guess I lucked out. As I've said, I stayed silent and so did she. We finally got to what seemed like a bridge... I didn't see any solid stepping point. All I saw were colorful, blue, glowy glitter, leading to the other side. I've never seen magic before. Is that what this is? My eyes widened. Is this safe? What's the purpose of this? Theresa noticed my curious gaze, she giggled.

"Oh, first time seeing something like this? It's called a moon bridge~." She walked toward the glittery glow. She was practically walking on air. I raised a brow. I gulped and look down. I closed my eyes and took a step forward, half expecting to plunge into the body of water below. I didn't. Huh. So this is what they meant by magic. Not that fireball throwing, lightning from your hands sort they tell by the campfire. I took tiny steps up the "bridge". I let the cold air hit my face. I felt like I ruled this place.

Theresa was already on the other end of the bridge as I stood in the middle, struck by awe. I looked up at the grey, gloomy sky, then closing my eyes. I felt every individual raindrop hit my face. I jumped at the booming thunder. I took a deep breath, inhaling with me the scent of the qualities of the outside world. I sighed. I couldn't help myself. I had to smile. I wish Annabelle would've seen this with her own eyes. She'd have been ecstatic. She's probably lying in bed. Sick, weak, ghostly. I was feeling free. Alive. I'd do anything for us to trade places.

Finally, after what seemed like an entire night, I trudged along to the end of the bridge. Theresa sported a soft smile, leading me to a modest sized building. We entered it, and inside was an impressive collection of clothing. I raised a brow. My blue orbs raced around the room. Leather. Hats. Dresses. Robes. Everything I could dream for was in this room. I checked my coin purse. I could afford a little carefree spending.

"Well... Here we are." Theresa dusted herself off, then watched my bemused reaction, laughing. "Leather is mostly downstairs, while cloth can be found upstairs."

I turned to her. My grin was genuine. I meant everything by it.

"I can take it from here... Thank you... Tuh-Rees-Suh... You've been a great help."
I extended an arm toward here. Bah. What was I thinking? She looked at my gesture with a tilted, curious head, jumping when she finally realized what I tried to do.
"Oh! It was no trouble at all! I hope you find what you're looking for~." She firmly grabbed my hand, grinning. "Take care, okay?" She waved at me as she exited the building.

All by myself. I sighed in relief. That went better than I expected. I suppose I can find decent company around here after all. I headed upstairs, looking through the cloth robes that Theresa mentioned. I wasn't planning on buying anything for myself, really. I looked for something that Annabelle would've liked. A bright sunflower dress. I found one with relative ease. The prices were affordable. I suppose it wouldn't hurt if I got something small for myself. I left the store feeling comfortable, warm, satisfied. The rain had also finally stopped as well. I sloppily stuffed the sunflower dress within my crowded pack. If I came back home right now with that dress, Annabelle would be kissing me from head to toe.

No. It's not enough. This is just the first step. She needs more than a dress. She needs a new life. Her beautiful fantasy is right there, within my grasp. I can almost taste it. But the same time, it's so far away.

I'm getting there, Annabelle. Just keep waiting. Please.
[22:46] <Ronan_> I once stabbed a man in Reno just to watch him bleed.
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