Home- Part 1
     Night shrouded New York like a fog, covering every dark alley and crack that couldn't afford the salvation of a saving light. Rain dripped on every cold, brick wall, and slid down like the tears of a broken man. Every dropped splashed on the filth that littered it's abandon streets, giving a vain attempt to disinfect the corrupted and defiled morals of the black city. The spots where light did make contact on the ground were hit with an emptiness, having only aged cars and gusts of wind to keep it company, and, even then, the slight shadows of the dimming light bulbs seemed to scowl in bitterness against the hardened streets that it lay upon. But darkness, it thrived. It entered every battered, tin garbage can, and every hole in the wall, with the shameful traces and thoughts of what it allowed. It entered every alley, helping every thug by hiding them in a cloak of dark shadows. Darkness was a wicked thing, and unfortunately for this depressed and black city, darkness needed no source, or help to appear. Darkness was bare.
    
    And through this darkness, a slightly crumpled paper bag rolled along the floor to a street light, like an injured animal crawling to the safety of shelter. It barreled through the rocks and mud almost desperately, leaving small crackle noises in the wake of its journey. As it hit the edge of the light, a sudden gust of wind caught it on the inside, lifting it into the air and unwrapping every fiber. It expanded with the suddenness of a gunshot, spreading itself like wings, and flipping through the air in an attempt to escape the back streets. It struggled through the air, soaked by every heavy drop of rainy that punched upon the fiber of what made it. But it did continue. It moved through to the open roads, where headlights blinded every sick man on the cracked sidewalks, and swiftly passed, not ever quite sure where they were headed that night. In this city, no one was sure of their destination at night.
    
     As a rusted vehicle of blue metal jerked passed the bag, a under draft lifted the lonely pilot into the air, next to countless windows of the many numb inhabitants who lived here. It went passed the window of an mourning teenage mother, with wetness soaking her cheeks due to the physical and emotional scars her runaway spouse left her every night. It flew passed the window of an unfaithful businessman, who flirted vulgarly with an older call girl, partly due to the virulent alcohol that he consumed earlier, and also due to the phone call he received from his furious wife. It flew passed the window of three men, loading their veteran guns and putting on pitch black clothing, which concealed the blood-stained undershirts that reminded them of their struggle to survive. Finally, the bag flew passed the top window, and into the air, never to return again. In this last window, however, was the splintered spirit of a lost man, who awoke to the bloody screaming in his head again. On the beaten jacket that hung on the coat rack was a stained, silver name tag, with the name "Alex Forton" ingrained across the surface.

Comments:
 
Elton4562   Elton4562 wrote
on 5/20/2010 5:27:24 AM
Excellent writing. Please share more when it's ready. (When you edit, notice "passed" probably should be "past.") Elton

Moonrose   Moonrose wrote
on 5/19/2010 3:43:53 PM
Dude, I LOVE it! You have some really cool stuff here... the metaphors, phrases you use... nearly every line was used to represent a thought in the most interesting, unique way. The middle paragraph was my favorite! :) Honestly that's when the despair and darkness of the city started to really get through to me... and I love how you continue on with the bag in your third paragraph, using it to creatively introduce your character, whom I'm already dying to know more about. Pleeaasseee don't leave me hanging for too long! Great job =D

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Synopsis
This is the story of a city (I just picked a random well known city that has crime in it folks, please don't fret too much), filled with the corruptions of modern society. In it, follows a man named Alex Forton, who suffers from struggles of his own in his life.
A Word from the Writer
This is just experimental. I'll end up finishing the story, but I'm just using it to practice my voice. Part one is setting up the mood and the story... I'm trying to make you not like this place very much, while forshadowing what is to come. Uh, tell me what you think ^^
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