[No Title] Story by WaytotheDawn

Ok, so I like to write sometimes in my spare time. I don't think I'm that good but I think I'm ok. This is what I came up with in little over an hour (with some msn convos going too). There is no title because I haven't thought much about the development of the story, so there isn't one for now. This is pretty much chapter one so please read and tell me what you think =]

CC very welcome pleas =]

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Chapter 1
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It was a day like any other, in that it was bleak, and tiresome. The sky gave off its casual grayness. The trees blew to and fro, as a helpless cat scurried without its usual enthusiastic pounce to find some form of closure. The animals were even bored. And so were the humans. The class was half awake, aided by the safety of the hand on the head. It was the teacher’s job to keep the class interested, but you could see even they weren’t having it. It was just one of those days.

The bell rang and students suddenly swarmed the corridors. People were awake now. Wide awake. They were talking. They were hustling and bustling. More so, they were leaving. Yep, it was just one of those days. A day where everything seemed to slot into its average. Nothing was new. Same noise, same smell, same push. So, he left, and he did it as he usually did ; taking in outside conversations in one ear and the lessons out the other. The city had its usual aroma, and maybe aroma was a word too nice, he thought. The air wafted and carried a scent ; a scent of the day end, a scent of home-time, a scent of memory that was long gone. The town was at ease, as usual ; the clock tower bell rang, and old men scrambled with their underarm newspapers to the local. Cars hummed in the distance and brought the smoke with them. The only thing he looked forward to was the humble nostalgia it brought, if even for a few seconds, it was really his moment of calm

He reached desperately to his right pocket and salvaged a slightly battered box of cigarettes. He didn’t know how many were left, or if there were even any in there. This opportunity for a moment of sheer excitement or disappointment only represented itself once a week or so, and it really made him laugh. There was one left. A smirk crossed one side of his face accompanied by a low sounding sneer. He tapped the cigarette on the now empty box, and placed the cigarette in his mouth. The useless and empty box was crumpled inside his fist and thrown into the canal under the bridge. He pulled a lighter from his jacket pocket and stood for a second, to light his cigarette. It took him a while, his lighter was chipped and cracked on one side, and was seemingly low on gas. He finally got his cigarette lit, looked at the lighter, and threw it into the canal to join the empty box.

“Piece of crap”, he grunted. He scratched his forehead and continued on his way. The walk home wasn’t long, but in a sense it was. It was long in the fact the same people, same scenarios, same sounds and same lack of creativity filled the streets. Nothing changed, and if it did, it was for the worse. Yep, just one of those days. He didn’t care about idle talk ; random people really made no effort. He just followed his trail of smoke home. People usually gave him cruel looks for the fact he had a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. He wasn’t trying to act cool, in fact quite the opposite. He was simply acknowledging
So he entered his housing estate, like he always did. He threw his cigarette butt on the ground, and took a faded packet of chewing gum from his other pocket. He popped one into his mouth, and chewed on down to his house. It smelled of dinner, and the kids were doing stupid things as usual. He couldn’t remember being that stupid when he was a kid. Although what he did remember of being a kid was quite the opposite of stupid, it was quite self explanatory.

His house was a nice little place ; it wasn’t small, it wasn’t huge, it was home. It was just the place for him. He walked through the front door and smelled his favorite dish. He was glad something wasn’t falling into the average. He could always rely on home.
“Ma, I’m home!”, he shouted. He could never be sure where the woman was, so he resorted to shouting such on entering the house.

 

thanks ;D

no, i only watched death note after writing this