Okay, now i know it has it's kinks, clearly when i read it over, and i promise it will all b fixed later. and when i copied and pasted it, the pre set paragraphs were deleted.
Elita trudged through the city streets miserably. She had lost her job. Her home, and her dog all within the past twenty-four hours, and for some reason, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t figure out why she had even been stupid enough in the first place to crawl her way into work this morning. She was young; far too young to even be working as a secretary for Bomb Shell’s Inc.’s top executive, and since she wouldn’t give into her bosses more than overly repressive and highly personal demands, she had lost her job. The losing of her apartment was a different story. For weeks she had been telling herself that she would eventually scrape up enough money to pay those high, menacing towers of bills that served only as her constant reminder of the giant hole she had dug herself into since moving to Chicago. Sadly, shortly after being evicted from her dusty apartment, she had lost her only companion for the past two years, her dog Luke.
Rain poured from the lightning streaked sky over head, and soaked her to the bone. She wanted desperately to go home and change into warm clothes, but with the reminding thought that she no longer had a home, the thought was quickly wiped away. Elita looked up and down the empty street trying to remember where she had parked her red 1991 Chevy Cavalier. After a few minutes, she gave up, and sat on a park bench. Curling her legs up to her chest, she buried her face into her knees and cried, her tangled brown hair falling in a cascade over her shoulders. Her world was crashing around her making everything unbearable. She didn’t know where to go from here. A friends house was out of the question since she hadn’t gotten around to making friends in Chicago yet, work was much more important to her. Local homeless shelters were out of the question as well for her pride would not allow her to even admit that she was now, by her own standards, homeless.
***
Keagan sat in the darkest corner of his favorite bar, The Loft, swishing around the liquid gold in his shot glass of whiskey. His mind was littered with thoughts that he wanted so badly to burn away, but he couldn’t bring himself to take a sip of his usual numbing medicine. Had it really been two-hundred years since his transformation?
Tags: