Morning! Starr.

355 66 125
                                                  

Zelle Starr

"It looks like it's about to rain blood!" Terry laughed as we locked up at the book store.

I frowned at his statement.

"What did you say?" I asked him as I watched him jiggle the key a little in order to remove it from the key hole.

Terry was a short chubby man, a very short chubby man. He wore different colored berets and they always matched his shoes. Today they were both pink. He was never seen without a turtle neck even if it was hot. He wore a black one today and his dark jeans were exceptionally tight as per usual. But he was a good guy. He knew alot about the business of selling books so I suppose having a good sense of fashion wasn't necessarily important for a sales man.

"I said it looks like it's about to rain blood! Look at the sky" he said as we both looked up.

The sky was indeed unusually red. Considering this was New York, I suppose it was rare that this was happening. I only ever saw it once before and what a terrible day that was. The sky was blood red just like it was today as I sat on the ground of a random street in Brooklyn. I saw a man riding an orange bicycle naked, birds fall from the sky mid flight and a dog vomit his intestines out on its owner's shoe and then I met the devil. I thought nothing of it then because Brooklyn was hellish for me, so I suppose, these things were prone to happen in a hellish place.

"You wouldn't have happened to see any guys riding colored bicycles naked earlier would you?" I asked curiously.

He regarded me like I had grown a horn. I suppose he thought I was strange or insane, or both. Well, selling your soul would probably make anyone a little wonky.

"I'll see you tomorrow Ms. Starr" he said ignoring my question as he modeled off to his neon green Porsche. Man that guy had bad taste in everything.

As I buttoned my black trench coat and fixed my baseball cap, my mind began to wonder like it usually did. As a child, I had never been able to make good decisions. I'd choose the ugliest shoes to wear to school and try to sharpen my finger as if it were a pencil. I ate the yellow snow and placed bugs in my drawers. I accidentally burned down my house with my parents in it, killing them both on Christmas day. Luckily, I was saved by a nosy neighbor who heard me screaming. Child Services placed me in a foster home that I eventually ran away from.

I was homeless, loveless, stupid and now soulless. However, looking at the present, you would have never guessed. Now, at the age of 24, I was filthy rich. With several successful books published and three popular book stores in New York, I was living the life, kind of. Much better than living on the street I suppose.

I always loved writing, it was the only thing I was good at and now I was living the dream. Ah, the things a soul can buy.

"You'll never catch me!" A naked man screamed as he sped down the streets of Manhattan on a blue bicycle, the police shortly behind him, chasing on foot.

I frowned as a sense of Dejá vú hit me as I walked to my vehicle. It was a black SUV, nothing too fancy. Just something... comfortable.

"Hmm" I said as I watched the man crash into a fire hydrant. I shook my head at the sicko and got into the SUV. Inside felt cold. It was the middle of July though. The days were hot and the nights were hotter. My car had been locked up the whole day but inside still felt like a freezer. I ignored the chill and drove home.

Alot of people may wonder, three popular bookstores ? Several successful books? Millionaire? In this economy? How did you do it? Well I'll tell you how I did it. I didn't.

The Writers Block Where stories live. Discover now