The Crow:Forgotten Angels
-Grace's Story-
Author's Notes: Yes, i an still a FAN writing a FANfic, and am in no way making moeny off of this... but, I do have some plot growing with original characters now... So enjoy!
Part I: Scene 2
The ring looked out of place on Grace's filth cover finger. It's smooth, golden curves shone dimly from her bony hand, weary of a new owner. Her other hand lay entangled in the pure white fur of the cat in her lap. Her stomach growled, another breakfast-less day. Grace stared down the alley she sat in, her eyes lame and tired. What day was it again? Maybe Thursday. A pulsing throb pounded in Grace's head, newly awakened from a few hours of sleep and hunger picking at her ribs.
With a sigh Grace rose from her seat on the ground and walked towards the street that connected to the alleyway. Grace shoved her hands in her empty pockets, not knowing where to go or what to do. A slight breeze blew old, stray newspaper across the ground. A trivial mist hung low to the ground, damp and chilling. The sun was just barely gracing the world with its light, making the streets seem sinister and wretched. With much will power, she subjugated a shiver.
In brisk step she walked the back streets, her face to the ground and shoulders slouched. As she came behind an old apartment building she stopped, finally raising her head to look at the worn brown bricks of the stone building. Slowly she lifted herself onto the rusting black fire escape shadily attached to the back of the apartment. As she climbed the ladders she tried to find the answer of why she was here, but nothing came to mind. Reluctantly she stopped as she reached the floor she wanted and stopped beside a window.
Pulling her hand out of the safety of her pocket, Grace tapped softly on the window. No answer. Again Grace tapped on the window, only this time more forcefully. Some grunts could be heard on the other side of the window, as well as footsteps. The curtain behind the window flew opened and reviled the reason why she was here. A man in his early twenties stood before Grace, bearing only boxers and a glare. His shoulder length brown hair shone with the look of not having been watched in a while and was tussled from sleep. With one last grunt the man opened the window.
"What do you want," he asked in a voice half asleep, half annoyed. Grace merely shrugged her shoulders; she hasn't gotten that far yet to know the answer. The man looked Grace over quickly then slid to the side of the window, making a gesture allowing her to enter. "You still own me from the last time," he sighed. "You're starting to own me a lot, you know?" His voice mumbled as he pulled up some random pants thrown on his floor. "I'm not some charity that will give you what ever you want when you stop by, you know."
"I know," Grace stated flatly, looking away as the man got dressed. "Now that Spider Monkey is, well, "gone"… I won't be spending as much… And, and I'll pay you back." Grace back at the man, "I promise, John…" She waited as John pulled a shirt over his shoulders past his head, messing his hair with his hands before he continued.
"I need some payment, Grace. Look, I know this guy…" John started, "He'll clean you up and give you a nice job out on the streets." A vacant look crossed Graces face, her eyes blank, but yet holding so much untold emotion. John walked over to the girl and rested a hand on her shoulder in comfort. "I don't know what else to tell you." He gave a tight squeeze and then let go and headed for what looked like a kitchen hidden under masses of trash and clothes.
"His name's Roland," John explained as he opened up the refrigerator, pulling out a bottle of beer. "You seem a little… eh… lean though. But I'm sure after a while meat will start growing on your bones, Roland takes care of his… ladies…" John twisted off the bottle top of his beer and took a quick chug before he continued. "You'll stay at his brothel of sorts I guess, maybe do a little grunt work until you're fit." With another chug he finished off his drink and threw the bottle off behind him, landing in the clothes filled sink.
"Okay," Grace muttered softly with her hands holding her elbows at her sides, she withdrew into her self. John messed graces hair with his hand and said nothing; nothing more had to be contributed to the somber mood. Grace trembled while trying to hold back tears; she didn't want to turn into her mother.
-Grace's Story-
Author's Notes: Yes, i an still a FAN writing a FANfic, and am in no way making moeny off of this... but, I do have some plot growing with original characters now... So enjoy!
Part I: Scene 2
The ring looked out of place on Grace's filth cover finger. It's smooth, golden curves shone dimly from her bony hand, weary of a new owner. Her other hand lay entangled in the pure white fur of the cat in her lap. Her stomach growled, another breakfast-less day. Grace stared down the alley she sat in, her eyes lame and tired. What day was it again? Maybe Thursday. A pulsing throb pounded in Grace's head, newly awakened from a few hours of sleep and hunger picking at her ribs.
With a sigh Grace rose from her seat on the ground and walked towards the street that connected to the alleyway. Grace shoved her hands in her empty pockets, not knowing where to go or what to do. A slight breeze blew old, stray newspaper across the ground. A trivial mist hung low to the ground, damp and chilling. The sun was just barely gracing the world with its light, making the streets seem sinister and wretched. With much will power, she subjugated a shiver.
In brisk step she walked the back streets, her face to the ground and shoulders slouched. As she came behind an old apartment building she stopped, finally raising her head to look at the worn brown bricks of the stone building. Slowly she lifted herself onto the rusting black fire escape shadily attached to the back of the apartment. As she climbed the ladders she tried to find the answer of why she was here, but nothing came to mind. Reluctantly she stopped as she reached the floor she wanted and stopped beside a window.
Pulling her hand out of the safety of her pocket, Grace tapped softly on the window. No answer. Again Grace tapped on the window, only this time more forcefully. Some grunts could be heard on the other side of the window, as well as footsteps. The curtain behind the window flew opened and reviled the reason why she was here. A man in his early twenties stood before Grace, bearing only boxers and a glare. His shoulder length brown hair shone with the look of not having been watched in a while and was tussled from sleep. With one last grunt the man opened the window.
"What do you want," he asked in a voice half asleep, half annoyed. Grace merely shrugged her shoulders; she hasn't gotten that far yet to know the answer. The man looked Grace over quickly then slid to the side of the window, making a gesture allowing her to enter. "You still own me from the last time," he sighed. "You're starting to own me a lot, you know?" His voice mumbled as he pulled up some random pants thrown on his floor. "I'm not some charity that will give you what ever you want when you stop by, you know."
"I know," Grace stated flatly, looking away as the man got dressed. "Now that Spider Monkey is, well, "gone"… I won't be spending as much… And, and I'll pay you back." Grace back at the man, "I promise, John…" She waited as John pulled a shirt over his shoulders past his head, messing his hair with his hands before he continued.
"I need some payment, Grace. Look, I know this guy…" John started, "He'll clean you up and give you a nice job out on the streets." A vacant look crossed Graces face, her eyes blank, but yet holding so much untold emotion. John walked over to the girl and rested a hand on her shoulder in comfort. "I don't know what else to tell you." He gave a tight squeeze and then let go and headed for what looked like a kitchen hidden under masses of trash and clothes.
"His name's Roland," John explained as he opened up the refrigerator, pulling out a bottle of beer. "You seem a little… eh… lean though. But I'm sure after a while meat will start growing on your bones, Roland takes care of his… ladies…" John twisted off the bottle top of his beer and took a quick chug before he continued. "You'll stay at his brothel of sorts I guess, maybe do a little grunt work until you're fit." With another chug he finished off his drink and threw the bottle off behind him, landing in the clothes filled sink.
"Okay," Grace muttered softly with her hands holding her elbows at her sides, she withdrew into her self. John messed graces hair with his hand and said nothing; nothing more had to be contributed to the somber mood. Grace trembled while trying to hold back tears; she didn't want to turn into her mother.