~*~-o-~*~ ~*~-o-~*~ ~*~-o-~*~
Title - Help Me
Author - Lydia En. E. Ways
Email - ERKeff@aol.com
~*~-o-~*~
CHAPTER TWO
~*~-o-~*~
"Ma'am... Ma'am. Your stop is coming in fifteen minutes," a man with a heavy North Shore accent told Abby as he tried to pull her away from the sleep that clung to her heavy eyes.
"Thanks," she responded half-heartedly as she rubbed her hands against her eyelids, attempting to wipe the sleep from them. She rose slightly in her seat and peered out the train window.
Golden light from the evening sun mingled with the dark cold shadows, cast from the scarce amount people that wandered the lonely streets, and the building that towered twelve stories high. The buildings were made of thick concrete and stained a dusty brown from car exhaust and pollution; the upper windows were painted black or had plastic bags taped over the broken shards of glass.
"Why here, Mom? Why did you come here?" Abby muttered to herself as she stared out at the poverty stricken streets. She started to sink into deeper thoughts when the conductor appeared next to her again.
"We are pulling in to the station," the bothersome conductor told her. "I would advise gathering your things and moving toward the door."
Abby nodded to him, gathered her things, and got off the train. The minute she stepped on to the platform, the cold bitter wind swept around her, picking up the ends of her coat and nipping her face. She pulled her coat tighter around her.
"I thought Chicago was the coldest place on the earth," she muttered to herself and hauled her suitcases in to a "Checker Cab".
~*~-o-~*~
"What do you mean he isn't there?" Abby practically screeched in to her cell phone receiver. She resumed pacing the floor of her hotel room, walking along the stripes of the carpet.
"No, No! Do not put me on hold again! He is out to dinner? No, this cannot wait! My mother is in that hotel, I need to speak to her." She was becoming even more frustrated at the incompetent desk clerk on the other end of the phone.
"I have told you Ma'am, I am dreadfully sorry but Mr. Breckport has instructed me not to interrupt him tonight. If you leave a message, I will tell him to get back to you tomorrow on the whereabouts of your mother," the woman said for the seventh time.
"Fine! My name is Abby Lockhart..."
She angrily spat out her phone number, and in a furry hung up the phone and flung it against the wall. She ran her fingers threw her hair, and grabbed her coat. She remembered seeing a bar around the corner.
~*~-o-~*~
"Do you want one more drink before we close?" the bartender asked her.
She picked her head up from her arms and looked around the bar room. It was completely empty, except for her, the bartender and several empty glasses sat in front of her. "Nope, but thanks." she replied as she grabbed her coat and stumbled out the door. She looked miserable. Her hair was mangled, and whipped around her head ferociously in the bitter wind. Her face looked tired, and there were dark circles under her eyes. To any passerby, she might have looked like Medusa; with her wild snake hair, and a glare that turn flesh to stone.
She finally reached the door to her hotel room, and slid her card through the lock and went inside the room that was blanketed in a thick goose down blanket of darkness. The darkness comforted her, it matched the feeling in her soul: cold nothingness.
She stumbled across the room, and saw her discarded cell phone blinking on the floor. She picked it up and listen to her new message.
"Hey, Abby... this is John. I'm just wondering how you are, and if you got there OK. Call me, if you want anything."
"Boy Scout," Abby thought as she rolled in to bed and drifted off to sleep.
Title - Help Me
Author - Lydia En. E. Ways
Email - ERKeff@aol.com
~*~-o-~*~
CHAPTER TWO
~*~-o-~*~
"Ma'am... Ma'am. Your stop is coming in fifteen minutes," a man with a heavy North Shore accent told Abby as he tried to pull her away from the sleep that clung to her heavy eyes.
"Thanks," she responded half-heartedly as she rubbed her hands against her eyelids, attempting to wipe the sleep from them. She rose slightly in her seat and peered out the train window.
Golden light from the evening sun mingled with the dark cold shadows, cast from the scarce amount people that wandered the lonely streets, and the building that towered twelve stories high. The buildings were made of thick concrete and stained a dusty brown from car exhaust and pollution; the upper windows were painted black or had plastic bags taped over the broken shards of glass.
"Why here, Mom? Why did you come here?" Abby muttered to herself as she stared out at the poverty stricken streets. She started to sink into deeper thoughts when the conductor appeared next to her again.
"We are pulling in to the station," the bothersome conductor told her. "I would advise gathering your things and moving toward the door."
Abby nodded to him, gathered her things, and got off the train. The minute she stepped on to the platform, the cold bitter wind swept around her, picking up the ends of her coat and nipping her face. She pulled her coat tighter around her.
"I thought Chicago was the coldest place on the earth," she muttered to herself and hauled her suitcases in to a "Checker Cab".
~*~-o-~*~
"What do you mean he isn't there?" Abby practically screeched in to her cell phone receiver. She resumed pacing the floor of her hotel room, walking along the stripes of the carpet.
"No, No! Do not put me on hold again! He is out to dinner? No, this cannot wait! My mother is in that hotel, I need to speak to her." She was becoming even more frustrated at the incompetent desk clerk on the other end of the phone.
"I have told you Ma'am, I am dreadfully sorry but Mr. Breckport has instructed me not to interrupt him tonight. If you leave a message, I will tell him to get back to you tomorrow on the whereabouts of your mother," the woman said for the seventh time.
"Fine! My name is Abby Lockhart..."
She angrily spat out her phone number, and in a furry hung up the phone and flung it against the wall. She ran her fingers threw her hair, and grabbed her coat. She remembered seeing a bar around the corner.
~*~-o-~*~
"Do you want one more drink before we close?" the bartender asked her.
She picked her head up from her arms and looked around the bar room. It was completely empty, except for her, the bartender and several empty glasses sat in front of her. "Nope, but thanks." she replied as she grabbed her coat and stumbled out the door. She looked miserable. Her hair was mangled, and whipped around her head ferociously in the bitter wind. Her face looked tired, and there were dark circles under her eyes. To any passerby, she might have looked like Medusa; with her wild snake hair, and a glare that turn flesh to stone.
She finally reached the door to her hotel room, and slid her card through the lock and went inside the room that was blanketed in a thick goose down blanket of darkness. The darkness comforted her, it matched the feeling in her soul: cold nothingness.
She stumbled across the room, and saw her discarded cell phone blinking on the floor. She picked it up and listen to her new message.
"Hey, Abby... this is John. I'm just wondering how you are, and if you got there OK. Call me, if you want anything."
"Boy Scout," Abby thought as she rolled in to bed and drifted off to sleep.