Hey there kiddos,
Morbid little Stretch had the idea to write a fic about our
favorite little wench...Mary Sue. I don't want to say what I was
trying to do here, as it might ruin anything remotely interesting
about this tiny little one-shot, so if you have any questions about
what I meant by it...e-mail me. So...here goes!
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A woman of the streets shows no true sign of beauty, nor grace, nor
brilliance. She is malnourished, discolored from the vicious winds
of winter, the merciless heat of summer, and everything else in
between. Her thin neck shows no necklace, yet instead is adorned by
bruises inflicted by either stranger or "lover". Others are unable
to tell which, and, sadly, so is she. Her hair in unwashed, and is
surely home to many unwelcome parasites, as her body is a safe haven
for disease. Each cough causes her chest to heave, trying
desperately to let this poor creature to breathe. She would prefer,
however, to stop all together. The end seems so sweet to her, as it
often does when life is cruel.
Her tongue is harsh and spits out words like serpent's poison. What
right does the world have to force her to be a lady? What reason has
she to be kind? The only thing tender about her are the spots on her
skin from infection. She makes a living. She has to in order to
survive. How odd it is to so desperately want to die yet to press on
as if yearning to live. Selling newspapers is easier for the females
on the street, but it also takes more out of them. Parts of their
souls are ripped from them each day, and she knew this as she
revealed her bare leg to a potential customer.
Romance is something in stories, and she is not exposed to many of
these, being unable to read herself. Desire is something she knows,
need is something she is well aware of. Necessity grips her tighter
each day as she tries in vain to relieve the misery consuming her.
Love to her is being paid for her extra services. Though prostitute
is not in the job description, it is a must if you want to live to
see tomorrow.
She is a desperate creature, full of angst and sorrow. Yet, time has
made her beautiful. Her words have become sweet, her complexion less
disturbing, and though she is still poor she somehow manages to be
clean. The years that have passed have allowed her to be loved, and
for her to love back. The men that surround her are no longer cruel
and sinister, with the smell of whiskey on their breath. Instead,
they are considerate and compassionate. Gentlemen, though they too
are working class citizens. And now, with a cross necklace fastened
around her neck where the bruises had been, Mary Sue goes out to
make an honest day's living, maintaining her virginity and virtues
along the way.
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There, hope you liked it. Felt the sudden urge to write about this.
Again, e-mail me for questions, comments, and EVEN...CONCERNS!!
Stretch
