She Has A Pretty Face Though (Part XX)

Disclaimer

The following is one of many installments for a story designed specifically for my blog.  While it does step out of my usual genre, there are some things still not suitable for a younger audience.  Violent/Graphic descriptions, strong language and sexual situations may be found through different sections.  Each entry will tell a small portion of the story during different times and may not directly follow the one prior to it.  

This story follows the direct interactions, as well as the deteriorating thoughts of a young man who is struggling not only with the relationships he has with those around him, but with the relationship he has with himself as well.

Finally, all work is strictly fiction and does not reflect the views of the author.  Any resemblance to actual person(s) is only a coincidence.

If this isn’t your cup of tea, then avoid these excerpts and hopefully I’ll see you around my other posts!

———

He collapsed against his pillow in exhaustion, lathered in sweat and haunted by the remnants of a dream he could no longer recall.  His hands clutched at the sheets and his knuckles had become as pale as his face from the continuous effort.  It wasn’t something he was aware of, nor was it anything he had any control over and many minutes would pass before his muscles would relax enough to allow him the comfort of sleep.

His eyes were open as far as they would go and if anyone were looking upon him at just this moment, they might flee in fright from his expression alone.  His face appeared nearly as white as the sheets beneath him and his mouth was yet partially opened from the soundless shrieks he had recently contributed to the silence around him.

A large vein protruded from his forehead, pulsing in time with his racing heart, and a bead of sweat slowly made it’s final journey past his temple and into his hairline, never to be seen again.

Though his eyes were open, they were sightless.  Scott Vali was not in at this time, but rather, it was another who looked through the veil of his consciousness.  This other had no control over its host.  It could not control him for its needs, nor did it have any desire to.  It was only content in finding new and exciting ways to break this one’s mind and soul.

Time had no meaning for the ‘other’.  It only existed whenever its host’s stress levels increased, and with each visit, so too did its strength increase as well.

It passed its time by whispering into his dreams, speaking of creatures that no man would ever be able fathom.  Though it only spoke of the tiniest fraction of these beings, it was more than enough to send its host cascading into the deepest, darkest pit of despair he had ever known.

It fed on his creativity.  Though he didn’t know it, he had a strong aptitude for visualization.  He accepted it as part of his imagination, but if he’d had the motivation to, he had the potential to one day be more than he ever dreamed he could.  Whenever he began to slip into himself, it would gnaw on his thoughts, corrupting them into something more to its suiting.

This night had been big.  It was the greatest moment of its existence thus far, and, as it drifted back into its own version of slumber, it would have smiled if it’d had a face with which to do so..

Scott blinked his eyes, groaning as his body began to jerk sporadically .  There was nothing dramatic about his movements, for they were the type of movements that come with extreme exhaustion.  They came because he was beyond this point of exhaustion, forcing his arms to slightly lift into the air with each action.  It caused his right eye to twitch rapidly, a feeling that was both weird and painful, but helpless to experience .  He rolled over to his right side, burying the twitching orifice into the crook of his arm in an effort to stymie its movement, but to no avail.

Had he been dreaming?  Had he awakened from a nightmare?

He couldn’t remember, and nor did it matter for he was chasing his thoughts back into darkness.  The discomfort of his dancing muscles still worried at his body, but his impending sleep took precedence over anything he might have wanted to do about it..

He drifted once more into sleep and this time there was only darkness waiting for him on the other side.

She Has A Pretty Face Though (Part XVIII)

Disclaimer

The following is one of many installments for a story designed specifically for my blog.  While it does step out of my usual genre, there are some things still not suitable for a younger audience.  Violent/Graphic descriptions, strong language and sexual situations may be found through different sections.  Each entry will tell a small portion of the story during different times and may not directly follow the one prior to it.  

This story follows the direct interactions, as well as the deteriorating thoughts of a young man who is struggling not only with the relationships he has with those around him, but with the relationship he has with himself as well.

Finally, all work is strictly fiction and does not reflect the views of the author.  Any resemblance to actual person(s) is only a coincidence.

If this isn’t your cup of tea, then avoid these excerpts and hopefully I’ll see you around my other posts!

———-

Despite all her physical flaws, he found it easy to lose himself to her when she smiled.  Her face was out of place in proportion to the rest of her body, slender, smooth and without a blemish in sight.  Her light brown eyes, when turned upon him, radiated a mixture of intelligence and something which he couldn’t quite put his finger on.  Strawberry blond hair cascaded down her back, ending just below her shoulder blades and was held away from her face by two skillfully woven braids.

“I…  I was worried that you wouldn’t come,” she said when he was with-in earshot.

He allowed himself to slow down when he was within ten feet of her and gracefully, out of breath, came to a stop just in front of her.  Much as she had appeared in the distance to him, he placed his hands onto his hips as he fought to catch his breath.

“Come on,” she prompted.  “The movie’s about to start.”

He followed her through the entrance doors without another word, and she didn’t seem to be offering any as she moved straight for the usher, tickets in hand.  When he saw that she already had the them, he felt a wave of guilt overcome him and he flushed in embarrassment.

“You already bought the tickets,” he asked, ashamed.

She only smiled over her shoulder, an innocent enough gesture as she received the stubs, and led him to the snack booth.

“Do you want anything?  I’m having popcorn and a Diet Coke.”

From somewhere in the recesses of his thoughts he heard the sound of someone trying not to laugh.  It was a muffled sound, a derisive snicker, and he shuddered at the cruelty that was underlying it.

“Scott?”

“Sorry,” he said hastily, “I’ll just have ice water thanks.”

“Are you sure?  I’m buying.”

Her tone suggested that she wasn’t going to take no for an answer, but truth be told, he wasn’t all that hungry.  His legs trembled beneath him from the run.  His arms ached from what he’d had to do before coming here and he was emotionally drained.  He had reached the level of exhaustion which felt akin to a dry hangover.  His head ached, his stomach cramped at the thought of eating anything and he wanted nothing more than to just crash.  Despite this, he could sense the impatience growing with-in his date and stepped forward to look at the candies.

“Actually,” he drawled, “the Jujubes don’t look half bad.”

“Mmm,” she purred.  “Good choice.”

The clerk took their order and soon they were following another group of moviegoers into the theater.

“Thank you for, you know, paying.”

“Don’t be silly Scott,” she answered quickly.  “It’s the least I could do.  Not very many boys invite me out and…”

Her voice was suddenly drowned out the sound of his unwelcome guest, which had burst into gales of laughter.

“Oh my God, no shit?!  She hasn’t been out in so long that her fashion sense dates back to generations!  Jesus pleezus, that’s fucking FUNNY!!!”

“…you know?”

“Y-yeah,” he stammered.  “Me too.”

Her cheeks flared a brilliant shade of crimson and she suddenly seemed a bit nervous.

“…really?”  She asked in much the same way that she had on the phone the other night.

“Uh-oh.  Now what did you get yourself into?”

She Has A Pretty Face Though (Part XVII)

Disclaimer

The following is one of many installments for a story designed specifically for my blog.  While it does step out of my usual genre, there are some things still not suitable for a younger audience.  Violent/Graphic descriptions, strong language and sexual situations may be found through different sections.  Each entry will tell a small portion of the story during different times and may not directly follow the one prior to it.  

This story follows the direct interactions, as well as the deteriorating thoughts of a young man who is struggling not only with the relationships he has with those around him, but with the relationship he has with himself as well.

Finally, all work is strictly fiction and does not reflect the views of the author.  Any resemblance to actual person(s) is only a coincidence.

If this isn’t your cup of tea, then avoid these excerpts and hopefully I’ll see you around my other posts!

———-

He focused on the sound of his feet as they thundered across the pavement.  He had found a comfortable rhythm five minutes into his run and at the pace he was keeping, he would make it there with a few minutes to spare.  As it sometimes did when he was running, his mind began to wander.

“I’d almost given up hope on you.  Usually when I ask a boy to meet me, he shows up a few minutes early!”

Misty Vandiver, the most popular girl in his class.  She had it all; money, looks, friends…  There wasn’t a single thing that was out of her reach.  If she wanted it, she got it.  If she couldn’t get it, her daddy got it for her.  Sure, she was a spoiled little bitch.  There was that, but once you got past the tough exterior, she wasn’t all that bad.

“It’s okay Scott, I’m just teasing.  I’m just glad you came!”

“Yeah, that’s what she said,” he thought to himself with a chuckle.  He couldn’t help himself.  She was, after all, the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.  His heart, as well as parts unmentionable, ached for her during the lonely hours of the night.

He had replayed that day over in his head a thousand times.  Sometimes when he closed his eyes, he could still see her face just inches in front of his when they had shared that milkshake.  Her skin had looked so soft, so flawless, and even over the scent of bananas just beneath his nose, he could just detect the playful hints of perfume she was wearing.  It had reminded him of mint and roses.

She reached across the table and laid her right hand over his left.

Oh God!  Her hand had been so soft!  So delicate!  Even after she had taken it away from him, he could still feel its touch.  For several hours afterward, he knew what it must have been for those people experienced the phantom limb syndrome.  Only, in his case, it was her phantom hand running its fingers across his skin.

It wasn’t right for him to be thinking about her so, and not just because he was out of her league.  Nor was it because she was Tommy’s girl.  He shouldn’t be thinking about her like this because he was running to be with another girl, one he had promised to meet on time.

Six more minutes.

He could just see the theater in the distance.  It sat alone, a mile before him on a lonely road just on the edge of the main business district.  There had once been plans to develop further but the city had gone through some dark times a few years back, and even though they had managed to come out of them relatively unscathed, finances had to be redirected toward rebuilding their losses.

He could see her standing on the sidewalk just outside the main entrance and he involuntarily shuddered.  She was wearing a floral dress, one that wasn’t very flattering for a girl her size, and she stood with her hands on her hips as she watched him approach.  The look on her face suggested that she didn’t like to be kept waiting.

Three more minutes.