And so it Started

Let it begin and the story wrap up it's previous adventures.

 The room was desolate, dirty, neat, but fit to live in. It was a contradiction. Upon first entering, you would assume the place was abandoned. A fair assumption, cracked paint exposed cold red bricks mortared decades ago. There was a heavy humidity in the air, hinting mildew lurked somewhere among the exposed slabs. There was a bed, and a metal frame. It was neatly made and two blankets were folded at the foot of it in a military fashion. A single box on the floor read “Super Star Commerce” on the side of it and likely held some fruit in it at some point. Now it carried assorted books, some pens, and paper. There was a small window aligned with the middle of the room and door. In that doorway stood the small room's curious owner.

A hood was drawn over a tan face, silver hair flashed brightly in sync with flickers of moonlight cast from the lonesome window. He wore a leather jacket, it was short, only hanging as low as his ribs' ended. Under that were two layered hoodies and beneath that likely some old t shirt. This owner wore two pairs of heavy pants; jeans underneath snow pants. His shoes were standard boots, likely raided from some thrift store, snook beneath his clothes. The man glared at the box sitting beside the bed. He fumbled about his front pockets and pulled out an old soggy match pack. From it he plucked one of the cardboard matches and again looked at the box. This time, with a more expressionless face, he struck up the match and tossed it into the box. The match simply landed on one of the books, mutilating a spot of the cover before quickly flickering out. To this, the man clicked his tongue and made his way out of the cold, wet room.

He walked down a dry and frigid hallway, traversed a cement staircase and opened two medal doors to the outside. The icy wind smacked his face, he pulled his hood closer to his face and exhaled deeply. Looking to his right he noticed a man hunched over a small fire in a metal bin. He caught eye contact with the man and gestured a nod to him, to which the man nodded back, “That your fire?” the hooded man asked, his voice surprisingly smooth and warm.

“Well yeah, you need anything?” the freezing man replied, revealing a thick accent. He was slightly surprised at the break in the night silence.

“How about I make you a little proposition?” the hooded man replied with a smirk.

After a short exchange, the man went back into the building and came out with the box, “You ain't pulling my chain are ya?” the homeless man questioned.

“Well,” the hooded man started as he reached into his pocket, balancing the box on his raised knee “no.” He pulled out a key and tossed it gingerly to the cold man. He then moved to the fire and dropped the box, beginning to pick out it's contents one by one and burning them.

“Woah those aren't college books are they?” the man gasped. He recomposed himself and added, “You know you could sell em up the road to those preppy kids, they'll give you a little of mommy and daddys' cash.”

“They aren't worth a damn thing if they don't read them.” the man stated coldly, continuing to dump the items without looking over at the man who was slowly backing his way towards the building doors.

“Well... I suppose your right about that huh? They just kinda cruise through school eh? Don't know what they got huh?” the hooded man just kept going. Then, the cold man looked back at the building and asked, “So I can't pay for this place man, what happens when they ask about rent?”

“No one will ask.” the man retorted.

“And why's that?”

“That would be because I own it.” stated the hooded man blatantly, grabbing the largest book from the box and throwing it into the fire. A huge storm of sparks flew about upon its rough landing in the tin bin. “Do you have an interest in educating yourself?” To this the homeless man was taken aback, he looked at the ground and said,

“Well that's a mighty cruel thing to have an interest in for someone like me ain't it...” the wind died down at this point and only the crackle of fire filled the silence. The hooded man then reached again into his pocket and from it pulled a folded piece of paper out.

“Your name is now Jeremy Reterick, you live in this building, your student I.D. is on this paper.” he handed the paper to the man, “You start your first class next week, by then be sure to buy the required readings-” he then dug through the box and pulled out an envelope. Opening the envelope, he peaked inside, shrugged and handed the envelope to the man, “That should get you by until you graduate, good luck.” he then turned back to the fire, dumped the rest of the box and then started out into the night.

“Wait... this is crazy...” the man dumped the envelope and onto the ground from it fell a stapled stack of money and several papers.

“Careful, those are worth something here.” stated the man, as he began to disappear in the darkness.

“Wait! You can't be serious?!?!”

“Oh I am, they mean nothing to me anymore, I got what I wanted here. Good luck though.”

“God bless you man...” at this the hooded man stopped in his tracks. He turned his head slightly to look back at the man, red eyes glared.

“You believe in all that?”

“W-well now I do...” the man backed up a bit at the peculiar, radiant color of his eyes.

The hooded man closed his eyes and smiled back at the man, “Good, then those courses will work out well”. Then, turning around, he raised one hand up and waved goodbye to the stranger before a vicious wind whipped up. And with that, the man disappeared.

Author's Note

Ignore grammar and spelling. Post anything you want any thoughts or anything, please.

Reviews

[K.E. Henderson]

It's so suspicious and mysterious and leaves the reader wanting to know so much more.... Excellent hook.