اوووه! هذه الصورة لا تتبع إرشادات المحتوى الخاصة بنا. لمتابعة النشر، يرجى إزالتها أو تحميل صورة أخرى.
TUESDAY
20:15 PM
SANTA CARLA
LONG WAY FROM HOME
The gold of sunset stretches wide across the horizon, far, wide, and the color of fire hearths and tangerines. The rising sun after a velvet night is its promise and as I stand outside of Max's tape shop, I think about how bizarre it is to watch dusk come so soon. New York City was utterly the polar opposite of the sunny residue of Santa Carla; the concrete jungle is bitter and always seems to possess an overpowering shadow.
I watch from the distance as the lights of the fair begin to turn on and a much larger sum of civilians start to flow down along the boardwalk. They seemed to be much more lively than those that wandered the grounds during the day and as I studied their intrinsic faces, I begin to note they are evidently much younger, too. There is music playing, a kind that is boisterous and not so repetitive; a chime of electric guitars ran along with the noise of circus bells and people laughing.
Again, I suckle on the end of my Marlboro red and let the smoke linger on my tongue before inhaling. I turn my head to the left as I blow it out from between my lips and my eyes land back on the comic store from earlier today. The lights are on and there is a group of people hanging around at the front; they appear to be in their early twenties and as I look closer, I notice one of them slip a few books under his jacket from the stands out front. I swiftly breath out the remainder of my smoke, press my cigarette between my dry lips and throw my backpack over my shoulder.
As I near closer, I begin to recognise that the man had taken more books under his wing, some that I was incapable of seeing at the distance I was at before hand. I wrap my fleshy fingers around the base of my gasper, let the smoke float down into my chest and as I came to a stop in-front of the store, I simultaneously blow it out as I watch the two boys from earlier chase them away. I continue to pollute the air with my stick as they shout slurs are the group of people who were clearly older than us both before they walk back, angrily.
"Tough crowd, huh?" I speak, moving my weight over to my right hip, smirk playing on my mouth.
"Don't you got something better to do?" The boy's gruff voice slithers from his croaky throat.
"Than getting to be around your happy faces? Never." I puff away, eyes squinting under my shades and lips remaining open, letting the nicotine float slowly off of my tongue and from between my teeth.
"You not from around here?" He questions, rolling up a much older, tampered comic book and gripping it tightly in the palm of his hand.
"New york." I press the tip of my tongue against my fangtooth, something I often found myself doing.
He chuffs, "Long way from home."
"Tell me about it." I try not to let my mind wander; the last thing that I want to think about is home.
"Why're you still around?" He questions, lifting his shoulders and turning the palms of his hands to face me to try and appear taunting.
"Had a shift at Max's place." I shrugged, looking down at him through my shades.
"The tape shop? That guys a creep." He responds, shaking his head,scrunching his eyes and walking back inside of the comic store, "See ya around."
I watch as he runs into another boy of his own age, dressed in an oversized patterned trench coat and an open mouthed smirk, "Still praying I never need to call ya!"
Instead of lingering, I decided to move on; shuffling my conversed feet against the ground, I wonder up inside the crowd that was beginning to swell larger. The board walk tonight is chaos, though it is nothing compared to rush hour in the big city. I press harder into the sea of people and bounce back when a guy no younger than me, throws a football over to his friend. I duck under his arm, curve right, stumble when I'm shoved by a group of older women and right myself before slipping over to the barrack aids of a merry go round. The music is eventful, though not so much when it comes to my opinion; I stand high on top of a picnic table that's to my left and look over the crowd. I'm unsure where the exit is, though I'm not nervous about it. I always find my way.
"Hey!" My heads spins to face the turning horses and sea lions where a group of men have a petit brawl with a much more mature policeman, "I thought I told you to stay off of the boardwalk."
Their voices are now inaudible and I furrow my brows at their immaturity, though I try to reason with myself; I don't know the full story.Before I can continue with my own escape plot, I catch eye contact with one of the men who is dressed in an ageing trench coat, adorned with nothing but black leather. His face is still, like porcelain and from where I'm standing, I can tell that his skin is just as white, too. He delivers his gaze swiftly before turning to the rest of his group and removing himself from the carousal with a mischievous smile.
I dismiss the situation and continue with my own activities; I spot a slip road further west of where I'm perched, over the swarm of civilians but I can still find my way. Reaching into my canvas bag, I pull out my pack of cherry sticks and place the end of one between my teeth. I often enjoy simply having one in my mouth, the taste was empty but appetising. I jump from the table and charge through the gaps that were available to me, swerving people left right and centre. There is a deep, menacing rumble of engines somewhere in the background, though I pay hardly any debate over it and eventually reach a clearing.
There is a piercing booth to my right with a bald man; he seems rough around the edges. I look down at the pictures of all of the piercings he has to offer and light my cigarette. He approaches me, "Looking for anything specific?"
I look up at him, over my shades and through the smoke, "Nah man, it's a rip off."
He looks at me, his face distorts into discomfort before I walk backwards and head for the slip road I had spot earlier. Again, the arrogant sounds of engines get louder and I spin around just as a group of motorbikes shoot past me, though I recognise them to be the men from a few minutes ago. As far as I'm aware, they don't see me and I continue. The alley way is much darker than the luridly lit boardwalk, though I feel much more settled. I enjoy being unnoticed, unclipped and untamed. I inhale the stick between my lips and my eyes shuffle along the buildings surrounding me.
A small, beaten up sign lights up, Lorriette's stays. I throw my cigarette to the ground and push open the door. The hall is lit in a golden light and there is an overly sized, dark oak desk planted to the left of the door. I hear footsteps coming from the door behind it.
"Oh! Hi, erm, welcome." A lady with untamed auburn hair reveals herself, "Looking for a room?"
"Yeah. Just for the night." I reply briskly, leaning my elbow against the wood.
"Yeah, sure. It's fifteen dollars a night"
I nod and pull a few notes from my pocket, she counts it, places it in her register and passes me a key.
"Room 4." She attempts to throw me a smile, but I can tell that she isn't used to the interaction.
I can only assume that she is not used to seeing people around here since her inn is hidden down the overly long and dark slip road, though I don't care enough to stay and chat. I've had a long day.
