I have another chapter and have gotten towards writing a third but would just like some opinions on this one. It's not permanent and as a writer, I believe, you should always be open to criticism and change. Please don't be rude but if you dislike the chapter then state why and what could I do to improve. Extremely inappropriately rude people will be ignored.
The Bar
Chapter One: Eniws
And in the end
All you have left to do
Is blame yourself
And hope that
The sun doesn’t rise tomorrow
He sat there and watched them. Yes they were fools and yes…he hated them. His slate grey eyes scanned the room as he took another sip of his raspberry wine. The light from the dim lamps halfheartedly walked towards him and wrapped its warm fingers around his body.
“Hn.†He said as he laid his glass down and gripped his chin. He clasped both of his hands together and laced his fingers in front of his mouth, a silent fire brewing behind his eyes.
His shook his head and his hair swayed every so slightly. Inside the bar, the air was humid and uncomfortable; the lighting was poor and the people were almost unbearable.
‘Why do I still come here?’ Perhaps he wasn’t a creature of change…maybe he found comfort in knowing the bar was always right where he left it.
Whatever the reason was, I’m not sure even he knew why. He sighed and grasped the bridge of his nose where his eyes were closest. Closing his eyes and standing up, he made his way towards the door, opening his eyes only so that he could make sure people would not run into him. He put his hand on the k**b of the door, the metal was cold and he shivered inside. His fingers held tight to the k**b and he turned it.
The door whined at him as gears were forced to shift and pull the latch from the wall. As he pushed the door open, a cold wind hit him and snow, falling from the sky, danced toward him. He narrowed his eyes, trying to keep the offending ice from blinding him. They clung to his hair and back like small white spiders longing for a friend. His feet left prints in the snow and he listened to the calming sound of ice crunch beneath his boots.
‘She would have enjoyed this,’ His inner being whispered to him as he glared into the darkness ahead of him. ‘It matters not.’ He nonchalantly replied back and continued on his path.
The small cobblestone road, filled to the brim with snow, led him down a steep hill decorated with houses. They lined the main road of the city and he hated it. The houses were all lit with small candles in the windows and they were sickeningly quaint. Children were in their beds sleeping, dreaming of better days and parents were sitting at the table discussing taxes, wishing for more time. He pulled his black trench coat higher, trying to shrug off the falling snow and keep his neck warm.
Puffs of steam rose above his head like angles whispered secrets. His right ear twitched and his lips were pulled tight into a thin line. Passing by a large house where, undoubtedly, a wealthy family lived he grimaced at the smell of the fire being lit. He listened to the sound of fir trees rustling together as the wind blew. Taking a turn at a street lamp, he stepped onto the snow. The road was slowly being left behind as he crept closer and closer to the bushes.
Small shadows of mysterious things danced around him but he refused to be afraid. Out of the squint of his eye he swore he saw a raccoon dashing out of sight. He raised his clawed hand in an almost feminine way, and shoved the bushes to the side bringing a small dirt path into view. The grass had slowly faded away after many travels to and froe in the same area. His boots thudded and rumbled against the hard dirt, and pebbles dug into the ground.
‘Hn…’ He thought to himself as he made his way down the small, homely path. Weeds and thorns wept toward him as he ducked beneath various vines. Creepers were slowly clawing their way into the path only to be stomped down by him. The path yawned wide and his house appeared from behind a multitude of trees. He sighed inaudibly and the dirt way slowly cracked into a marble path, stretching towards three handsome stairs and a black mailbox. He bottom of his boots gripped the stairs and he pushed up three times until he was at his door. Glancing left, he lifted the lid of the mailbox open and pulled a letter out.
His eyes widened slightly as he read the return address. Slipping it into a pocket inside of his coat, he flipped a latch on his door and entered his home. Kicking the door shut with his boot, he took off the trench coat he was wearing and placed it onto the coat rack. His shoes were then removed and he loosened his shirt buttons to relax. While he was making his way towards his dining table, the coat rack casually fell over and the letter fell out. He sighed and gripped the bridge of his nose where he knew a wrinkle would eventually form.
Walking over to the letter, he used his claws to pick i
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