Infancy

Infancy

A Chapter by Mark Daniels

Another day,

but what can I say?

we lve in a world,

where children are curled

in the street,

no shoes on their feet.

But what can I say?

It's just another day....

 

     The sun wasn't even up yet and Jack was writing. His apartment was dark except for the occasional red and blue lights coming from the police cruisers. They were probably arresting an innocent person for a crime they didnt commit. Either that, or they were passing time by harassing the homeless. How Typical.

 

      Jack hoisted himselfout of his bed, dragging his feet through the young writer's home. He went through a usual morning routine, and got dressed with his usual demeanor.  The sun was just starting to rise when he sat down to eat some food. He looked up occasionally and scanned the living area. It had never really occured to jack that he was lonely, because he had just grown accustomned to the feelings. So, He just sat in the silence, eating his breakfast as he thought out his to-do list.

     "Not much to do, just send out more writing samples."

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

     "Ugh, he is soo depressing!" Rikki groaned, invisible to everyone as she sat across from Jack.

     "How can you be pure when you are this boring!?"She gave up and sighed heavily, bored out of her mind. she looked back up at jack and thought.

     "If Gabriel was pulling my stings abour this, im going to be soo mad..."

 

    She failed to nitice that Jack had left the table and went out onto his fire escape. When she finally noticed, the frantically flew across the house, creating a small wind that no one noticed. She balanced herself on the rail and looked down.

     "What a dump of a city. Why would the big man keep something like this around?" she commented, before turning her attention back to her case.

    "I guess if you were a romantic, it would explain the pure soul, but it would not explain why the heck youre so depressed and boring..."

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

"Where is my muse?" He asked himself over the sounds of the busy city.

   "where is my sole inspiration to write? to live life? is she out there, looking for me?" he frowned.

   "Or did the hate and cold of this city kill her?" He sighed, sitti9ng down on the ledge. In his mind, he was silently proving the point he had made the previous night. He watched innocent people die, and more get arrested for it. To avoid breaking into song, Jack walked inside and flopped onto the couch, staring at his door. THe only possession he actually cared for, other than his binder of literature, was his massive sound system. he wasn't in the mood to look outside and find something to write about, yet, not tired enough to go back to sleep. So he turned on some nice classical music and nodded off for a moment. Rikki sat on the top of the couch and listened. "He may not be interesting, but he's nice."



© 2010 Mark Daniels


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Added on November 17, 2010
Last Updated on December 5, 2010


Author

Mark Daniels
Mark Daniels

44077, OH



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Well, here you go. This is my personal poetry/writing site. Please, feel free to browse around and read that which i have created. Also leave me some comments and suggestions, they're all welsome. Oth.. more..

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