This is a big revival of my interest in fiction-writing after I discovered I was rather rubbish at it the last time. I'm back with a more mature writing style and, and at 3 AM, some fuzzy vision. The idea for this formed into my head as I was walking home from work one day. Like it? Say so! Thanks : )
Disclaimer: 0.o don't 0wn p0k3mO/\/ o.0
He got down from the almost-empty bus relieving all sorts of people from their daily qualms. Silently, he made his way alone and discreet, to where he wanted to get, through the binding alley with a semi-curving length of pavement bricks partitioning two roads equally curved, only to make to a small round-a-bout expressing the freedom of leading the tarmac further into the night or a wide left with construction on it's sides, unlighted in all their glory, cockroaches already scuttling inside, outside, and inbetween the corrugated steel pipes. The road, one of the few perhaps unattended by bright orange halogens, led further down for a reasonably modern five-storey building, filled with adults sick of their life and children wanting more of it. The pokeballs were attached to his belt.
He ignored this path, pacing on course of the white painted lane divisions to take a second left. His grey polo t-shirt and khaki jeans were simple enough for light walking (he had made sure of that), a low slung, oversized black cap with "Warning: Pokesport is contagious!" ensuring no light reached his face. This road was filled with considerably less lighting that the road he had just passed, albeit filled with villas of recent yesteryears basking in nothing but the same, some owner-filled, some not. He continued on, no reason for this peace to be disturbed - rather, reason for it not to be disturbed, an array of the more expensive meter taxis trying to peek at his features before they passed on. He was fully aware of the viable consenquences of using the micro-Electrode as a torch. Educated on the matter throughly, he realized too much was at stake. Who knew if he'd even get to the end? Wanting to gain the comfort of shivering as a result of this thought, yet he knew even this he could entertain; Arboks were heat-sensitive. As he was in this highly-alert practice there was a small left, leading up to more, closer packed villas, exotic cars, beautiful females and the same five-storey apartment block.
He continued on his quest once more banging on the sidewalk as the small left became even smaller in his vision. With finality he smirked at the sudden open ended-ness of the road as yet another round-a-bout clouded his eye, surrounded by bright lamps, leading either left or right, the same two-lane roadways separated by a pavement, behind it yet another villa with a trail stretching in both directions. Audaciously this time he walked straight ahead, spit out his chewing-gum and reloaded his mouth with another, onto the roundabout threatened by the deep growl of powerful motors, picking his way hastily onto the pavement of the villa. Taking a right, he had to walk a mere three-hundred meters to another left. Sweat broke from his forehead and slithered down his thin and short but dangerously muscular body, the tension escalating slowly with every step. He closed his perfectly-sized manual pocket knife-cum-laser - all this time cleverly hidden in his folded up right hand with his left folded as well to confuse - but kept it with him in his hand, the metal covering of the knife now drenched within his sweaty palm. He took a last left, filled with yet more villas, walked across the street into his small one-floor rented housing, opened his door quickly but quietly as he had always done with experience valuable enough. Inside and content he was alone, he nervously housed the wrong key into the lock, his effort unaided by the gum, cursed softly and locked the door with the wrongly-placed right key. "Of course", he thought. "Stupid." Even a small mistake like this could spell the end of his revelation.
Funny thing is, nobody from outside noticed him, but when the police arrived two minutes later, his body was strewn on the floor, a bloody mess.
I have no idea where this is going to lead, at the moment I have ideas (rare moment, they'll be gone by tomorrow) but it would be helpful to have some conservative criticism from anyone. I haven't completely spell checked it either, though that is my fault. Or my brain's. "
Have a good day all
spi