I'm currently out of ideas for both Pitch Perfect and New Girl so I will be taking a break and focusing on this for a while. There will be eventual Kick, no need to worry.
I own nothing, not even the plot. :)
The only thing I remember is now. My eyes open slowly and there is too much. Of everything. People. Voices. Music. Chaos is surrounding me, I can tell that just by the sounds.
While starring up at the detailed ceiling, I feel something tug my leg and a face appears in front of mine, blocking my view of the painted roof.
"You gunna eat that pretty boy?" the figure above me asks. The person is blurred and I blink, once, twice, until I can see clearly at our close proximity. I observe the fat man, raking in the back of my brain if I know him or not.
I sure as hell hope not.
The man above me reeks of cigarettes and god knows what. His clothes are tattered and torn, his beard has some remnants of old crust food left in it. Long greasy streaked hair hangs over both his shoulders forming a sort of curtain around us. His face has a pissed off expression, so I'm guessing he had asked me a plethora of times.
"Pretty boy!" he calls my attention back to him "are you going to eat that?" he demands again. He pulls himself out of the previous straddling position we were in and sits in front of me; his legs criss-crossed like a kindergartener.
I sit up and the feeling of sharp pain embarks my whole body, mainly my neck. I reach my hand behind and touch the sore area but retreat my digits when I feel throbbing and a warm liquid. I bring my hand back into view and see the pads of three of my fingers are covered in blood. My blood.
What happened to me? Who is me? Who am I?
I begin to examine myself, looking for any other wounds or identification so I can at least know my own name. I reach down toward my jean pocket and stick two of my digits in and feel paper. The two fingers come out of the pocket with a crumpled up ten dollar bill between them and I let out a sigh.
I avert my disappointed gaze from the crumpled bill to the fat man. I see his bloodshot eyes staring intensely at something peering out from under my thigh. I move my leg over and see it's a book.
He wants to eat my…book?
Before I can react, he snags the book from under my leg and sprints off threw the crowds of people. It took me a second to realize what had happened before I jump up and put my long legs to use.
I'll give the guy credit, he was an expert at dodging threw the crowds, me…not so much.
I was busy running, dodging and looking for the book-stealer that I didn't even notice a man in his late-thirties walk right into me, causing all his papers to fly around us.
"You've got to be kidding me!" he cries "Get the hell out of here kid!"
I yell an apology and continue my scavenge for the man, I notice a sort of clearing up a head and run into it, it's less crowed that the busy halls and I stop to take a break and observe the place I'm in while keeping an eye out for the man.
I see smaller crowds of people either carrying briefcases or luggage and watch as a large white train pulls in and people get in or off.
I'm in a train station. Got it.
I look around and spot my target near the men's restroom on the floor flipping the pages of the novel vigorously. He stops at a page in the middle before tearing it off and shoving it in his filthy mouth.
"Put it down!" I hear a voice yell. It was deep and annoyed; I then realize it was mine.
The book-eater tore out another page and stuffed it in his mouth. I dash over to him and tried to pry the book out of his tight grip.
"Let go." I growl.
"Hey! Break it up you two! Stop." A new voice calls from behind me, I then feel a tight grip on my bicep and I resist the urge to rip my arm out of the hold.
I stand up straight and turn to the person wearing a black outfit with the word POLICE written in bright yellow. A lump forms in my throat that I manage to swallow down.
"What's going on here?" he asks taking his hand off my arm and turning towards me then the book-eater then back to me, waiting for an answer.
"H-he stole my book and now he's…eating it." I saw and realize how stupid that must sound and how much it must look like I'm trying to steal from some poor homeless guy.
The officer lets out a loud laugh and crouches down to the book-eater whom is holding the book like a prized possession.
"Tim did you take this boy's book?" he asked slowly, as if a teacher talking down to a dumb student.
Tim shook his head and held the book tighter "Mine." He said before lightly kissing the side of it.
The officer turns to me and crosses his arms. "So Tim says it's his and you say it's yours." He reaches down and rips the book from the book-eaters hands, ignoring the growling sound coming from him. "If it's yours, what's the title and author?"
Crap.
I rake my brain, trying to remember anything from my past but it's all a blank. I close my eyes tightly thinking so hard it hurts my skull. My eyes re-open and one word slips off the tip of my tong.
"Walden" the police officer gives a small nod and beckons me to continue with the author's name "by Henry David Thoreau right?" he smiles brightly and hands the back the hardcover novel.
I must be standing there like an idiot with a dumbfounded expression planted on my face from the surprise. How is it that I remember a stupid book title but nothing about my previous life?
"Sorry about Tim, he has this weird mental disease where he eats weird things. I once watched him eat cigarette buts and a bar of soap" he lets out a chuckle at the memory "he was coughing up bubbles after".
We both look down at Tim and see him watching a little girl and her mother. "You gunna eat that?" he yells as he begins chasing them.
"So Walden eh? I remember reading that in high school then doing a paper on it in grade 12. It's quite some book. I'll admit this to ya; I've always wanted to live like Thoreau for a week. You know, in the woods by myself."
The book title sparks something within me; I feel a rush of a memory. Words pass threw my head and I remember them being Henry David's from one of the later chapters of 'Walden'.
"Yeah" I reply dully, just wanting to get out of the situation.
"Keep safe kid, here's your book back. Keep it away from Tim!" he winks before handing the book back and giving me a painful slap on the shoulder that was meant to be fatherly. He then disappears threw the crowds of people leaving me alone.
I sigh and slump down on a near-by bench trying to come into contact with any available memories.
I flip threw every single page of Walden and find nothing. No notes, numbers, clues, just the text that Thoreau wrote in black ink.
How the hell will I be able to figure out who I am when all I have is this goddamn book?
All I know is that I'm a boy, at a train station, I have a crumpled up ten dollar bill, I'm uncomfortable around cops and my only possession is the book Walden by Henry David Thoreau.
So, that's the first chapter. Slow start, I know but next chapter you will get to meet Jerry and someone else ;)
You're beautiful,
M xx
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