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Every Trip is a Quest -Ch. 4-The man wasn't terribly happy when he regained consciousness. His sour mood may have cropped up because I'd tied him to a chair and put a lamp over him, interrogation ala television, but I was pretty sure it had something to do with being hit repetitively with a golf club.
...that was mostly his fault.
Having calmed down somewhat since beating the crap out of the man--whose sunglasses I had removed, seeing as they were complete unnecessary--I was ready to listen to what he had to say.
" j-just give me a minute," the guy muttered, screwing his eyes shut at the bright light.
Well, whenever he was ready.
"So, about this vacuum guy " I began, trying to prompt him into revealing what he knew. It was sort of nice to be in control for once.
"He's part of this mysterious organization and I can't say much more than that. It's not safe here," he explained, and then his eyes suddenly widened, "Wait. Please tell me you didn't sign anything."
Apocalyptic Seizure --Ch. 1--Vicenza High School wasn't really the type of school to have the stereotypical cliques and groups, considering how small it was. With a student body of about 300, however, groups formed all the same--although they were considerably smaller and less specific than large school counterparts.
There was the chess club, of course, and the 'scene kids', with their crazy hair and don't-give-a-damn-attitude. Jocks, rappers, cheerleaders, over-achievers, student council, and the 'beautiful people' pretty much stuck to their respective social scenes. Then, there was a table for geeks of all sorts.
Melissa, by far the most well known member, showed off a sporty haircut and an infectious smile. She was an interesting girl who had both rigorous discipline and a sense of adventure. She was an avid reader of manga, writer of Yaoi, and artist. She didn't seek anyone's approval, choosing instead to follow her own path. Her presence in the school was the subject of much controversy; she was openly bisexu
Red Riding HoodI want to believe people so badly when they say they won’t bite
that I contemplate climbing into their smiling jaws
thinking that it might be better to be split in two than left hanging.
But always, I draw my red hood and flit back into the forest
running in the shadows of pathways, never stepping into clearings
because I’ve spent my whole life in the wilderness
and I still can’t tell the wolves from the woodsmen.
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