Post by setrida on Dec 27, 2008 22:09:27 GMT -5
Alright, I just started this new story about... an hour ago. It's kind of... weird... but I guess that's for you to decide. Any and all thoughts are welcome, good or bad, but if you say it's awful, just tell me why. Please and thank you!
“…recent animal maulings in the city are baffling police officials. Chief of Calloth police said in his statement yesterday that manpower is focused on stopping the killings. It is unknown what sort of animal could be doing this…”
“F**in’ morbid.” Jensen Striker grumbled to himself, pulling at the collar of his shirt and scowling, looking beyond uncomfortable in his khakis and button-up shirt. His dark hair had the look of hair that was usually left to run free and on this day had gone to war with a brush. His electric blue eyes darted to the clock from behind their square lenses and his leg tapped out a nonsensical beat on the floor.
Beside him, a tall red-head chuckled. “Calm down, Jenny,” Samantha Crow smirked playfully, rolling her eyes.
“I am calm,” he ground out, “I just don’t want to hear all about this mauling while I’m waiting to go to my meeting, okay? That’s hardly conducive to business.” His fingers join his leg in the irregular beat.
Watching him oddly for a moment, Sam sighed and stood, tapping his shoulder and heading up to the reception desk.
Jensen barely noticed his agent leaving. His eyes bounced from thing to thing and his jaw clenched angrily as the new report continued.
He stilled completely when the channel changed midway through one of Amelia Beckett, the local news reporter’s sentences. Looking up he saw some sort of commercial before his eye was caught by Sam returning to her seat, energy drink in hand.
Handing over the drink, Sam’s eyes flicked to the screen. “Now you can calm down. Seriously, this is no big deal, Jensen. Relax.”
Nodding, Jensen down half of the energy drink quickly before taking the rest a little slower. “Thanks, Sammy-girl.”
When Sam sent him a short-tempered glare, he only beamed back.
~~~
It really hadn’t been a big deal. The meeting, he meant. Somehow, though, the nervous feeling he had gotten in that waiting room wasn’t going away, even as he contemplated making the effort to get a cab.
Walking out the feeling seemed more appealing, though, so zipping up his coat, Jensen stepped out of the fancy office building for Talking Bird Publishers, where he had just met his publishers to talk about the latest novel he was writing. His eyes found the intersection a few feet away and he set off, mind on the feeling in his gut.
Around him, the city was busy as ever. Calloth was by no means the most desired city in the States, but it was nice enough and the metropolis kept a certain sense of danger that made cities so appealing about it. People were brushing past him and the sun was low enough to cast an orange light over everything, making the metals that rose to the sky as buildings look like enormous pieces of citrus. The glare of the low light off the cars swerving through the lanes brought in a fast-paced sense to the bubble the city goers all lived in.
Jensen liked it because he was far from home; far from his parents. Here their names meant nothing, and that meant something to him.
All the same, the city air was changing. Amongst all the smog and shouts, a feeling of great wariness was holding back the young men and women wanting to go out into their city by themselves. It had them calling friends to accompany them and traveling in packs. Because maybe the beast that had already devoured six people in the past week would leave them be if there were more of them.
Completely solo on the sidewalk, Jensen received odd, nervous looks, like he might be the creature they were all after.
If only they knew. The irony was killing him.
Maybe walking hadn’t been such a good idea, after all, Jensen decided as the feeling in his gut grew. His hands, stuffed deep into his jacket pockets, had begun shaking. He pushed through the barrier of people that kept him from the street and, by luck, easily hailed a taxi.
Clamoring into the back, he gasped out his address as he slammed the door shut, blocking him from all of the accusing eyes in the street. Why?... “…and be quick about it,” he finished to the driver, eyes refusing to glance back out of the window, for fear of what they might see.
But, then again, what he could imagine was so much worse.
“…recent animal maulings in the city are baffling police officials. Chief of Calloth police said in his statement yesterday that manpower is focused on stopping the killings. It is unknown what sort of animal could be doing this…”
“F**in’ morbid.” Jensen Striker grumbled to himself, pulling at the collar of his shirt and scowling, looking beyond uncomfortable in his khakis and button-up shirt. His dark hair had the look of hair that was usually left to run free and on this day had gone to war with a brush. His electric blue eyes darted to the clock from behind their square lenses and his leg tapped out a nonsensical beat on the floor.
Beside him, a tall red-head chuckled. “Calm down, Jenny,” Samantha Crow smirked playfully, rolling her eyes.
“I am calm,” he ground out, “I just don’t want to hear all about this mauling while I’m waiting to go to my meeting, okay? That’s hardly conducive to business.” His fingers join his leg in the irregular beat.
Watching him oddly for a moment, Sam sighed and stood, tapping his shoulder and heading up to the reception desk.
Jensen barely noticed his agent leaving. His eyes bounced from thing to thing and his jaw clenched angrily as the new report continued.
He stilled completely when the channel changed midway through one of Amelia Beckett, the local news reporter’s sentences. Looking up he saw some sort of commercial before his eye was caught by Sam returning to her seat, energy drink in hand.
Handing over the drink, Sam’s eyes flicked to the screen. “Now you can calm down. Seriously, this is no big deal, Jensen. Relax.”
Nodding, Jensen down half of the energy drink quickly before taking the rest a little slower. “Thanks, Sammy-girl.”
When Sam sent him a short-tempered glare, he only beamed back.
~~~
It really hadn’t been a big deal. The meeting, he meant. Somehow, though, the nervous feeling he had gotten in that waiting room wasn’t going away, even as he contemplated making the effort to get a cab.
Walking out the feeling seemed more appealing, though, so zipping up his coat, Jensen stepped out of the fancy office building for Talking Bird Publishers, where he had just met his publishers to talk about the latest novel he was writing. His eyes found the intersection a few feet away and he set off, mind on the feeling in his gut.
Around him, the city was busy as ever. Calloth was by no means the most desired city in the States, but it was nice enough and the metropolis kept a certain sense of danger that made cities so appealing about it. People were brushing past him and the sun was low enough to cast an orange light over everything, making the metals that rose to the sky as buildings look like enormous pieces of citrus. The glare of the low light off the cars swerving through the lanes brought in a fast-paced sense to the bubble the city goers all lived in.
Jensen liked it because he was far from home; far from his parents. Here their names meant nothing, and that meant something to him.
All the same, the city air was changing. Amongst all the smog and shouts, a feeling of great wariness was holding back the young men and women wanting to go out into their city by themselves. It had them calling friends to accompany them and traveling in packs. Because maybe the beast that had already devoured six people in the past week would leave them be if there were more of them.
Completely solo on the sidewalk, Jensen received odd, nervous looks, like he might be the creature they were all after.
If only they knew. The irony was killing him.
Maybe walking hadn’t been such a good idea, after all, Jensen decided as the feeling in his gut grew. His hands, stuffed deep into his jacket pockets, had begun shaking. He pushed through the barrier of people that kept him from the street and, by luck, easily hailed a taxi.
Clamoring into the back, he gasped out his address as he slammed the door shut, blocking him from all of the accusing eyes in the street. Why?... “…and be quick about it,” he finished to the driver, eyes refusing to glance back out of the window, for fear of what they might see.
But, then again, what he could imagine was so much worse.