played by KITTEN
with 66 for
|
Post by JONAH STERLING on Mar 12, 2015 5:01:32 GMT
so close, fingers grope feeble at the strape, grazing the coarse fabric. almost doesn't cut it. almost gets him caught, makes him prey to the wolf. by the wrist he's pulled into the waiting jaws of the savage beast. something strikes the ground, something other than him. his pale flesh is already hot and swelling. bruises will smear his flesh. flailing, poorly aimed blows miss and hit their mark but won't do the damage he needs. he can't breath, heart beating too fast. his world warps around him, dizziness. he struggles still. won't give up until he get back what's his. black shape on the floor. he gropes for it, grasps it. his camera. he folds himself around it like its prescious. its importance overshadows his life. ISA KRISTOFF |
|
played by mitzi
with 97 for
// APP
& PLOT
|
Post by ISA KRISTOFF on Mar 13, 2015 3:42:58 GMT
he can almost hear his mother's scolding voice as the struggle knocks over the equipment (ya allah, another mess!) - her voice is loud, but the blood beating in his ears is louder. isa brings the boy down, pins him on the grimy ground between the ground and his fists. he thinks of his father, sitting in the kitchen table, newspaper and nectarine, the pulpy juice dripping and blurring the arabic script. he thinks of his own face smashed against the sidewalk. he thinks of hands, of grips to break. he thinks of nothing. one of the bouncers pulls him back, roughly. JONAH STERLING |
|
played by KITTEN
with 66 for
|
Mar 13, 2015 15:59:30 GMT
Post by JONAH STERLING on Mar 13, 2015 15:59:30 GMT
sound is sucked from the room, swallowed down the throats of startled onlookers. the music is gone. even the fists pounding on his swelling flesh make no sounds. he makes no sound. his camera is solid beneath him. it presses back again him, comforting. a victory. he got it back, he won. the weight lifts from his battered figure. pulled from him is the wolf, snarling, teeth still bared. jonah's bloody, swelling. bruises already form, blotchy smears of red and purple. but he rises with his prize, swollen lips splitting with a tired smile. he holds it like a trophy. ISA KRISTOFF |
|
