AN: So I had started to write this a long time ago, when this brilliant idea struck me. Then just like that I lost it. Lost sight of my idea, lost sight of my passion to write, lost sight of my vision, my imagination for this type of thing. Really, I had lost a lot of inspiration to do any form of my artwork. But now, as the show has come back for its fourth season (which I am excited for) a new idea struck me, and I will try to write it all down, as much as I can during my incredibly hectic schedule with school and work. This is something that I need to do for myself. So, if you think that you may possibly want to see more of this story, please let me know. Message or review, and that would be great thank you.
Preface
Waking the Fallen
Molly Taylor took a quick glance around the room, and sighed heavily. It truly surprised her how she could become a part of the scene so easily, how she could just blend into the background, no one giving her more than a seconds glance. The bar that she chose to reside in tonight reeked of alcohol, smoke, and the sweat of older men, more than one usually did; the only thing she heard was the hard rock coming from the stereo speakers, the loud and rowdy laughter that she was suppose to hear from those around her had been drowned out. This scene playing around her was almost as if it were out of a colored version of a silent movie. She never pictured herself here, however no one can control where they end up in life. Not even those who were the once stunning, star child of their age group had that power.
She sat at a table with her feet hoisted up in front of her, most of her weight had been put into balancing herself as she rocked on and off the hind legs of her chair. A couple of guys flew past her, their fists flying in every which way for one and another; Molly rolled her eyes at the sight. It was pathetic to see grown men, completely wasted and trying to fight, especially if it was over something like "He sat in my damn chair, again."
Now, what is a girl doing in such a place? Well the answer to that is very simple. She certainly was no ordinary girl. Of course Molly sure held the appearance of being nothing but ordinary, with fabricated her ripped and torn jeans, with the little planed out bleach stains everywhere, how she layered three different shirts, the way her hair was supposedly carelessly styled. How she always wore her very expensive boots, that were supposed to look as though they were a little worn down and the slightest bit vintage. Yeah she sure looked ordinary enough, but the best way to defeat an opponent is to give them an illusion, to throw them off.
Having decided that she spent enough time waiting, she stood from her lone spot in the bar and made her way to the exit. Everything around her seemed to be moving in slow motion, it was all too easy for her to maneuver through without getting hit from a random bar fight. Molly had to admit, she was pretty good at her job. The lies she told, they were absurd, unbelievable even, yet every time, people bought into them, they asked no questions. She was good. She was indeed a beautiful liar.