A short story In the works by me - General

June 23, 2009 Imagine the busiest street you've ever stood on, that one right infront of the subway station with the free parking along the street. Hear the sounds of 2,500 voices as they face another boring, undaunting day. The faces of those men and women and even children that walk by you, only the children with any expression and appearance of life behind it. Hear the 43 cars in varying bland shades of blue, red, silver and black with those odd stand out cars that vanish from memory seconds after seeing them defeating the purpose of standing out at all. The sights of the bright lights when the suns just setting, the businesses and brothels lighting up the gawdy neon signs to lure the blind and insecure. Even the reflecting sun, the beautiful blinding rays as they scorch the eyes, it's all too much to take in, isn't it? When you break it up like this, look at each piece, piece by piece, it's too much to look at, it's too much to take, you start taking it all in at once, sensory overload right? Imagine for me again, imagine if you had this ability to sense everything all at once, imagine if this was your life. A little hustle and bustle, a little more than nothing for you i'm sure. It's nothing for you to go on the subway and go to and fro through-out your boring day. I doubt you can even imagine each sight, I doubt you can compile it all into one big vision, full of sounds that would drive you mad. It's for your own good. Sensory overload. Every day. That's why I don't go to the cities anymore. The smells don't help either. Greasy penetrating smells you probably only get in the local fast food joint where you go for weekly burgers with your friend Tim, or Tom, whatever it may be. Dirty petrol burns the air, burns your nose, burns your eyes if you stand in the wrong spot. I always ask myself why I stayed in the city so long. I only found out moments ago what drew me to stay here. March 14th, 2008 The train bounces and bumps along the tracks, the dirty brown trenchcoat man in front of me grunts to hold onto the hand rail. The child to the right of him couldn't help but stare at each and every person in the train with wide eyed vigilance, as if in search of dangers. As if. His eyes caught mine. He looked inward, through my eyes and saw nothing. The childs mouth begin to fall agape with surprise of some sort, I turned away. Closing my eyes, I saw the darkness of closed eyes. The smells in this cramped little train car... They're all so dirty. Whoever they are, they're all so dirty. No one knows it, but I can smell the deeds they do that stain them so. I don't judge them, I don't care about them, I can't My head aches, this is hell in here. Why do I bother with this... The kid knows, I swear it he does. He could see it in my eyes. March 19th, 2008 I opened my eyes to the roof of my apartment. No sound permeated the walls. No smells, no lights, nothing. I live in nowhere to avoid the life of everywhere. In the dark of the night, in the midst of street lights and dark alleys I was wandering home after having spent my day as per usual. A man approached me on the street side, his hands were burrowed in his pockets deep enough to cause worry. His eyes forced the world down as he stared at the side walk, nothing in his world existed but that ground. He was alone on a city street in his own mind while the world was bustling without him. What does it matter what we are? The individual, do we matter? He would not be missed, sure his family would, but as a whole.. Society doesn't care. The closer he got to me, the more I felt it growing inside me. That urge. The nothingness. The all consuming void that inhabits me. The closer he got, the more I could smell it, the more his breath tingled my ears. It was over. No one could know. I don't know what keeps me sane anymore. March 23rd, 2008 “Eyes up boy. Arms to your side boy, stand up straight boy” his words echoed. Fathers. Must have been a military man. His son's eyes, as clear as glass, I knew what he was thinking inside. That boy has to put up with a father, a murderer, a killer. I walked on. I had to take another subway, I had to sit in a box of grime. It's not as easy as it used to be. I feel things more, I hear them and smell it all more. Every sight I take in, it's sharper, there's more there, there's nothing to ignore. Nothing I can ignore. I forced my way into the car. Standing was not an option. A seat was to the right of me behind the lady draped in an off white summer dress, short and rancid. I could smell her from here. Sex and money, the smell on her was potent. Beside her was a man in a suit, expensive, intolerant looking eyes, hollow shell of a man. His mind full of thoughts and intentions. I knew this mans mind well upon first glance. I loathed where I must sit to keep from losing my mind. The stench in the car was enough to make me gag. The train stopped. Edited and updated.

Wow, I really like it. The writing flows very well, and I like the first person narrative. Only thing I found a bit weird: [quote]The trains [b]cajolling[/b] along these tracks[/quote] Seems a weird word to use

[QUOTE=Dclone2;16206882]Wow, I really like it. The writing flows very well, and I like the first person narrative. Only thing I found a bit weird: Seems a weird word to use[/QUOTE] Yeah, I do agree. I'll change that at some point. Thank you for the comment.

[QUOTE=HumanAbyss;16212428]Yeah, I do agree. I'll change that at some point. Thank you for the comment.[/QUOTE] Very detailed ,lots of imagery.

Edited and updated.