BLAINE - Chapter 1 - "Hittin' the Road"
This is the tale of "Blaine" a written series filled with Magic, Zombies, Dragons, Witches, Cat People, Vampires, and Greek Mythology. Now this part is just the pilot, just to see if you guys are into it. Please leave comments telling me what you thought. Enjoy.
BLAINE
Chapter 1:
"Hittin' the Road"
Blaine was admittedly shocked at how fast he lost control of his car the night he was coming home from his own high school reunion. He was notably tired, mostly from his disinterest in the reunion party but also due to the fact that he recently took up longer hours at his job. He felt his eyes grow heavy as he was speeding down a long stretch of road which clearly had a sign up that read 'speed limit 45', he was going 50. To his left and right were twisted looking trees that were void of any leaves or flowers due to the fact that it was the middle of October. The light of a full moon light up the road, bathing everything in a pale, ghastly light.
He shut his eyes for seven seconds, in seven seconds his hands slowly slipped from the wheel and he drifted into the wrong lane. The sudden burst of light from an eighteen wheeler made his eyes snap open. He he tried to swerve out of the way and was admittedly shocked at how fast he lost control of his car. His shitty 1970's Mustang slid across the slick pavement, and was hurtling towards the field of baron trees on the side of the road.
His car smashed into a particularly wide oak tree. The average human being would have suffered from 3 cracked ribs, a concussion and a broken spinal cord, the average human being would have been paralyzed for the rest of their lives. However, the average human being wouldn't have vanished into thin air seven seconds before the shitty 1970's Mustang smashed into the baron trees on the side of the road.
Its and odd feeling to be backed into a corner, it closely resembles drowning. Blaine felt a deep sinking feeling when he gambled away his last ninety dollars. When he first acquired a taste for rolling dice it was debilitating to say the least, but that was when he was a thirteen year old delinquent rolling loaded dice on the basketball courts of a school yard. Flash forward twelve years, and that thirteen year old is now twenty five and has a loan shark knocking on the door of his one bedroom apartment.
"Rick what are you doing here?" Blaine asked while peering threw the hole in his apartment door, "you know why the fuck I'm here, this shits gettin' old Blaine, don't piss me off". Blaine was out of options and he felt that drowning feeling return, it crept up from the pit of his stomach and quickly reached his throat. "You gotta give me more time, Rick I'm gonna have your money by the end of the week, I just need it for my mother she's sick, her hospital bills are a killer" replied Blaine while clutching a half empty bottle of whiskey. "Your mother passed when you were six, you think I'm retarded or somethin', you think I don't know everything about the degenerate gamblers I loan money to? Your gettin' on my last fucking nerve you really are." He shouted, now banging on the door. Blaine took a swig of his whiskey, it was all he could do.
"The next time I see you, either I'm gonna get my money or I'm gonna have my boys bust your fuckin' skull in!" He screamed, "yeah you got it buddy, I'll get you your money" Blaine lied. He took another swig of his drink and struggled to get to his feet in a haze. He scrounged around his apartment, searching for his suitcase, Blaine knew it was time to flee, he just didn't know where to yet. As he stuffed his bag full of clothes he remembered to take his handgun, which was taped to the bottom of the kitchen table. Guns always made Blaine nervous, but he took a deep breath and placed it into his suitcase along with his clothing.
Blaine opened his door cautiously, he peered down the hall there was no sign of Rick the loan shark. He made his way to the parking garage to his getaway vehicle. He climbed inside his beaten down old Mustang and paused for a second as he realized that he probably shouldn't be driving in his drunken state. "Fuck it" he said aloud as he stuck his keys in the slot and revved the engine. His destination was not yet known, but what was perfectly clear was that if he didn't flee, the police would have to use his dental records to identify his body. So with that he drove off into the night, without looking back.
TO BE CONTINUED...
Comment
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Comment by Tori Luve on September 6, 2011 at 3:26pm -
you need an editor for your sentences/structure. So far, you haven't compelled me to come back to read the 2nd installment. You need a better "grab" in the story. Compel me. Move me. Piss me off. Make me want to know more.
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