I woke up, looking straight into the eyes of latest swim suit model. God, she’s so hot. And I know I’m not the only one to think that either. I wonder how much money she made on that one poster of her.
I sat up, wearing nothing but my jeans. Why do I always keep my jeans on when I sleep? It’s kinda freaking…oh, that’s right. I always past out before I can undo the belt, let alone the button. I can always get the shirt off fast enough, but never my pants. That’s what a couple dozen beers will do to you I guess.
I lied back, wondering if I was going hit and wake someone up. Nope, no one. Real shocker there. I haven’t had any physical contact, let alone a relationship, with a woman for months now. It’s driving me crazy. I wonder why? When I was with Jane all her friends used to tell her I was hot. Where are those friends!
I sighed, sitting back up. I should take these posters down. Being surround by beautiful woman, half naked and some naked, when I wake and fall asleep isn’t going to help my confidence. I stood up throwing a back t-shirt and a red sweat shirt on. I look at the sleeves. God, it’s like I’m wearing rags on my sleeves.
I took the sweat shirt off and threw it on the bed. Where is that knife of mine? It’s got to be somewhere in this mess…ha! Under a pile of dirty socks, I knew it! Maybe I should clean up a bit. I mean what girl would be excited to get into bed with a guy with dirty cloths, shoes, Chinese take out containers, and who knows what else littering the ground like a nuke went off.
As I walked back to the bed, I heard the wooden boards beneath almost ever article of clothing creek and crack as I paced across them. God I got to talk to H.S. about getting me another room. The best damn mechanic in his shop, maybe even Atonian city.
I stuck the knife into the sleeves, next to their hemming. I then tore the sleeves off, letting a flesh tearing screech shred through the air. I through the jacket back on. Nice, it looks better and keeps me cooler. Cloths by Dravick…nah, I don’t feel like been the one straight clothing designer.
Now, this just hit me; I left a knife with out its sheath just lying around, on the floor none the less. Now if that isn’t dumb I don’t know what is. I shrugged, finding the sheath, inserting the blade into it. I clipped it to my belt. I’m supposed to tie it to my leg too, so it wouldn’t move so much if I did need to grab it quickly, but I didn’t feel like it. I don’t think I would need it today.
I walked over to my door. My back pack was handing on a coat rack just next to the door. It has all my tools for the shop, plus a couple healing strips and stuff, just incase another muffler ‘accidentally’ falls on me. I opened the door. Smog, smoke and the smell of garbage hit me like a rock.
Yells, screams, laughs and conversations rang in the air like a huge church bell. Machines building buildings and driving across the walk ways to get to their destinations. An occasional car drove by, but it was rare. When I opened my door, I heard Judas shot at me from the apartment above mine. Hers and everyone else’s in this building was actually an apartment, while mine is just a room with a bathroom.
It was a mistake in the building plans. It’s also just fifty dollars a month. So as long as I take showers, I’m making a pretty penny.
“Dravick! You’re late on you rent!” she hollered at me with her smoked damaged voice.
Hey, it might be cheap, but it doesn’t mean I forget to pay sometimes. I sighed and smiled. I do also try to test that old memory of hers now and again, trying to skimp out on the rent and see if she’ll catch it. I took the money out of my wallet and grabbed the ladder’s bottom rung. There are ladders up and down this thing. On the bottom and top of doors, and the doors themselves when they’re closed.
I figured it’s cheaper than elevators, safer too, but why not just fly? When I was far enough up the ladder, next to her window, she eyed me as I hung off her closed, scrapped welled door.
“You owe me two months rent…” she said matter-a-factly.
She was an old woman. And I mean old. Winkles that look like they could hide nickels, ever quarters. Her orange, fire like eyes did show a once young and probably beautiful woman once long ago.
Now, she wore a purple house dress with a matching shower cap, all of which had white daisies on them. I honestly think she’s starting to lose her mind. But hey, who am I to judge?
“Two months huh…I only have sixty four on me now.” I said as I reached out and handed her the money.
She took it and began counting it. “Fine, when you come back with the other thirty eight dollars, bring some movers to move your stuff off the street.” She said.
I smiled, laying a little charm on. H.S. always says I have a certain charm about me. He’s right, as I grown to know.
“Oh come on Judy, you know I’m good for it. What if I come back with the rest of the money and a large pizza from Fat Don’s?” I asked.
She seamed to be thinking, but she agreed once she met by eyes. “Fine, you win…Dravick, your so much like your old man.” She said.
I still smiled, but looked a little mad. “What do you mean?” I asked.
I knew my dad stayed in this same ‘apartment’ as I did, I knew Judas knew my father, but she never told me more than that. Sometimes I would pick it up. Like when she complimented my hair and eyes and looks and height and all; you know, all that stuff boys get from their father mostly. But she never told me a lot about him.
“Your eyes. Him and you both had the same black blue eyes that could look like a fighter’s or a lover’s eyes. Sometimes, as yours might do sometimes, would turn blacker or bluer. Your father once told me a story that a couple cops pulled him over once, thinking he was an Alpha by how blue his eyes were.” She said.
I opened my eyes to say something, but I said something else instead.
“Judy, did my father ever act different at times?” I asked.
She seamed shocked at the question, even appalled. She never did answer my question, she just shooed me off to get to work and get that pizza. Then shut her window and retreated into her living space. I sighed. Aw well, I ask her again when she’s hopped on what ever pills she takes to relaxed.
I jumped from the ladder, seventeen stories up. As I fell, I felt the wind rush past me, blowing the front of my shirt, rusting my hair, even raising my back pack up a little. I love falling. It’s almost as good as flying. As soon as I past the fifth floor, I started to spread my wings. They creaked and cracked as they crawled out of the slits in my back. I felt them slide through the slits in my shirt and jacket, my backpack almost candled between them. As soon as the wind caught hold of them, they shot out. Just in time too. When they shot out the caused a ball of wind to hit the ground were I was going to land a nano second later, cushioning my fall.
When I the ground, the ball of wind dispersed and causing cigarette buds and trash and dirt to fly away from me like a was a magnet repelling them away. I landed on my feet, but I underestimated the force of the fall. The fall made my legs beg, making me crouch and brace my self with my hands too.
I looked just like a demon about to strike a victim. As I stood up slowly, making sure I didn’t break anything, my black as night wings cast a twenty two foot shadow against the building. I opened my eyes finally, only to find a tiny child in front of me. He wasn’t five feet from were I landed.
He looked up at me, with his green eyes. His eyes were cool I had to say. They had a green base color with a slash of black right threw the middle, like something a mad artist would when he failed a painting. Not to say his eyes were a mistake though. His grey wings, only three feet at his stage now, weaved as they recovered from the gust of wind mine blasted.
They were a forth of the way grown now. When they’re fully grown they would be twelve feet for those ‘math wizards’ out there. He had the same look as most little kids did when they saw my wings. I was literally, in wing sized, huge. Like, small (for a guy) would be nine (around 2.7 meters) or ten feet (around 3 meters). Normal is twelve (around 3.7 meters) or fourteen (about 4 meters). Big is sixteen (about 4.9 meters). Mine you ask? Mine are twenty two feet (around 6.7 meters).
And here’s a little more info for ya why I’m so stressed out about not having a girl; wings sized is…how to say appropriately…‘admired’ by girls. In a sexual way, for the slow ones out there. Ya, I’m still figuring out why I’m single…ha, me? An ego? That’s ridicules!
“Are you God?” the little paled boy asked me.
I laughed, slowly folding the rasping wings. I crouched back down, digging a piece of gum out of my pocket. “Far from it kid. Far from it…gum?” I asked.
He nodded like a bobble head and I gave him the stick of gum. He unwrapped it like it was a present and chewed the gum happily. I rubbed his mop top head and stood up, walking away and readjusting my backpack. I wish the shop was a bit closer, but three blocks of walking won’t kill me. Besides, Don’s place is on the way. I’ll stop in and say hi.
As I walked, I looked around. Pricings were as command as breathing, tattoos too. I was the only fresh skin around. Most people tattoo and pierce their skin to stand out. I fine that me, not having a piecing or tattoo stand out just as much if I did have a huge arm tattoo.
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