Chapter 2
The distant sound of worried voices and of shoes hurrying by on a cold tile floor could be heard. The air had that distinct sanitized smell. It was such a harsh smell, so indifferent. As he lay there he suddenly realized he was shivering. He pulled the thin blanket a little closer.
I must be dreaming. This cant be real, of course not. I'm dead.
He gave a little laugh. A sear of pain shot through his chest.
I'm.dead.
Promptly a thin, pale woman in a stark white gown walked in briskly. She gave a quick look at a few of the many machines in the room before realizing that the patient had come to. The woman walked over to him, stared at him for a brief moment, and proceeded to straighten his blankets and fluff his pillows.
"So uh.Grenaldine is it? Unusual name.but then again, your no ordinary fellow are you?"
She glanced at the outline of his figure under the blankets. The woman sighed.
"Well, I guess I better call in Doctor Jones to get a look at ya."
She walked out shaking her head and muttering under her breath.
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The dusty planet had become more civilized since that last time Vicious was there. That was the way he remembered it; dusty, solitary heaven. It was as if the planet reflected his soul. There was nothing but dust, remnants of what used to be. Dust and a trench. A hollow trench within his heart, with no one but himself and the only other person he cared to see alive.
He leaned against his wrecked ship and lit up a cigarette. It was going to be a while before he left.his ship was in no condition to even fly to the next asteroid. He decided to look for the nearest bar.
I just hope to god there's no saxophone players in this place.
He took one last puff off his cigarette, threw it to the ground, and stepped on it as he walked away.
After a while of walking he came to a dark little town. As if by some illusion the entire place seemed to glow blue. It looked just like every other run down dump that he had ever seen. There were beggars lining the alleys alongside litter and dumpsters. It was past dusk already. The street lights had been turned on, but few were actually working. The result was an eerie radiance.
He scuffled along the cracked, uneven pavement without looking up. He was carried to a trashy looking building by the sounds of a jazz piano and the low hum of voices. His senses were met with the smell of smoke and alcohol. He half-heartedly pushed open the door and found a seat at then end of the bar. He sat there in the shadows listening to the melody that filled the air.
Just be glad it's not that damned music box tune.
He closed his eyes and began to hum the melody in spite of himself, as a drop rolled down his face in silence.
-------------------------------------------------- That was also short. Too short. I'm not a very nice person am I?
The distant sound of worried voices and of shoes hurrying by on a cold tile floor could be heard. The air had that distinct sanitized smell. It was such a harsh smell, so indifferent. As he lay there he suddenly realized he was shivering. He pulled the thin blanket a little closer.
I must be dreaming. This cant be real, of course not. I'm dead.
He gave a little laugh. A sear of pain shot through his chest.
I'm.dead.
Promptly a thin, pale woman in a stark white gown walked in briskly. She gave a quick look at a few of the many machines in the room before realizing that the patient had come to. The woman walked over to him, stared at him for a brief moment, and proceeded to straighten his blankets and fluff his pillows.
"So uh.Grenaldine is it? Unusual name.but then again, your no ordinary fellow are you?"
She glanced at the outline of his figure under the blankets. The woman sighed.
"Well, I guess I better call in Doctor Jones to get a look at ya."
She walked out shaking her head and muttering under her breath.
--------------------------------------------------
The dusty planet had become more civilized since that last time Vicious was there. That was the way he remembered it; dusty, solitary heaven. It was as if the planet reflected his soul. There was nothing but dust, remnants of what used to be. Dust and a trench. A hollow trench within his heart, with no one but himself and the only other person he cared to see alive.
He leaned against his wrecked ship and lit up a cigarette. It was going to be a while before he left.his ship was in no condition to even fly to the next asteroid. He decided to look for the nearest bar.
I just hope to god there's no saxophone players in this place.
He took one last puff off his cigarette, threw it to the ground, and stepped on it as he walked away.
After a while of walking he came to a dark little town. As if by some illusion the entire place seemed to glow blue. It looked just like every other run down dump that he had ever seen. There were beggars lining the alleys alongside litter and dumpsters. It was past dusk already. The street lights had been turned on, but few were actually working. The result was an eerie radiance.
He scuffled along the cracked, uneven pavement without looking up. He was carried to a trashy looking building by the sounds of a jazz piano and the low hum of voices. His senses were met with the smell of smoke and alcohol. He half-heartedly pushed open the door and found a seat at then end of the bar. He sat there in the shadows listening to the melody that filled the air.
Just be glad it's not that damned music box tune.
He closed his eyes and began to hum the melody in spite of himself, as a drop rolled down his face in silence.
-------------------------------------------------- That was also short. Too short. I'm not a very nice person am I?
