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| Preface | Started by: Ritz on Jun 10, '09 05:10 |
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Ritz hands you a couple pieces of paper on the streets as you're walking around minding your own business "This is the Preface of a potential memoir I might write. Yes, it's lengthy, but it holds your gaze; trust me. Tell me if I should continue, or just shoot myself because I'm a horrible writer." ---/ Preface Rayne looked back at her assailant as she kept her little legs and bare feet running as fast as she could on the cracked pavement in the New Orleans restaurant district. It was about midnight, and the Italian Pizzeria cook had caught her rumaging through the dumpster in the back again. That's twice this week. But it's not like she could help it, it was the only place she could even attempt to try to find food tonight. It's Monday, and no one wants hot pizza on a steamy New Orleans week night, which was good for her; she eats what they don't use. Though, it's still difficult for a 7 year old girl find food in a dumpster. Most people like pizza, and don't tend to throw it away. Today she found a regular cheese slice, near the bottom still in a box. She thought she got lucky.. but as soon as she had the slice half gobbled down in starvation, the overly obese bald man that was chasing her at this moment decided to grab her by the neck and throw her to the ground with a thud, and started yelling at her that he'd give her to the police or worse if he caught her there one more time. But, Rayne know how it worked; she gave him a look at those big adorable yellowish eyes that glow in the light, and the moment he showed her any sense of compassion, she spit right in his face and high-tailed her little ass out of there. The mans face got furiously red as he chased her half-way down the sidewalk, but gives up, panting like a race horse and sweating like a dog. Rayne kept running until she finally got to the end of the block she was on; she had run straight through about 3. She tries to catch her breath, and became a little light headed from the lack of oxygen. She was passing an alley-way, not paying attention to the sights and sounds nearly as close as she usually does, when a hand cups her mouth from out of the shadows and pulls her in. She feels her back hit against a man in a fine suit, as she tries to scream; though she knows it won't do any good. She knew who it was, and she cursed herself for letting her guard down. "Sh-Sh-Shhhhhh... calm down, you little bitch, or I'll cut off one of your little fingers and give you something to fucking whine about. The Boss wants you to come in alive, but he never said how many fingers you needed." His voice was hoarse, definitely a man just as she deducted. It was obvious that he was a drinker and a smoker, and he had a tang in his voice that she knew all too well. He was a killer. A hitter. And he enjoyed his job. She tried to look at the man's face but all she could glance at, was the hat that covered his face with night's shadow, and something like a scar on the right side of his face just below his eye, before he pushed her face down harshly. He started to move, but Rayne didn't resist any longer. "Oh, tryin' to be sweet now are we, huh? You little harpy. Just wait a damn second..." He stops and takes a drink from a flask in his pants pocket, then removes a roll of rope from his jacket, and proceeds to tie her little hands behind her back. She doesn't make a sound. "So you don't do anything stupid", he adds. He drags her to the black Bentley on the curb and stuffs her into the passenger side. This is where Rayne always shows her true potential, even as a child; she keeps her head low and smiles to herself as he goes around the back to get in on the other side. She squirms quickly while he can't see her moving, and she feels the hunting knife slide down her back and into her small hands. She kept it soundly underneath the training bra strap on her back. Now, she didn't actually NEED the bra, but she found it like she found most things in the garbage; almost brand new and decided to give it a use: hiding her weapon, a most important job. She turned to the side slightly, hiding the knife out of view of the suited man opening the door and getting in. She proceeds to cry, or at least make tears come from her eyes; it was all an act to fool the drunken prick. She could make anyone show her compassion, she knew that. She was always resourceful; she even made her age a weapon. Who could resist and dirty but beautiful 7 year old girl crying in the passenger seat of a car? The man looks at her with disgust. "Quit your crying damn it, I told you just 5 MINUTES ago what I'd do to ya.." he looks at her again, this time showing a drunk laziness and sighs almost angrily, "well at least you're not making any noise..." And with that he started the Bentley and put it into gear. Rayne looked out the window. He was driving the way she needed to go anyways, so that was good; it would make for a quick escape. She had started cutting the rope on her wrists quietly and not-so-quickly so she wouldn't draw the mans attention. He seemed like he was in his own world anyways, the moron. He continued blabbing on, and it only further motivated her to cut her bindings. "The Boss told me I'd find you in New Orleans at night", he laughed. Rayne feels a few bits of the rope snap.. "I just didn't think it'd be this easy. You must be dumb as shit, little girl. I don't know what the hell he wants you for, but he said he had a deal for you. Or maybe that's just a front huh?", he snarls as he begins to laugh even harder. Halfway there, she starts to smile again, a large broad smile. "Maybe he just likes the young ones. I can't blame him really, but you? Shit, I can find better YOUNG ass in a fucking nursery!" The rope falls from her wrists, and Rayne looks up at the man still smiling. The man looks down at the sudden movement, and looks confused. "Hey why are you smil-.." Before the car starts to break out of control and brings too much attention, Rayne gets in under the driver seat and floors the brake. The car stops with a halt, and she puts it in park. She looks back at what she has done, wiping the knife off with a patch of the mans coat that didnt have blood splattering on it. The man had stopped talking, because Rayne had taken her blade, and without mercy, cut his throat open from jugular to jugular. His head leans back, and blood spurts from the arteries of the open neck wound. Rayne opens the door and steps out of the car. No one was on this street tonight, it was the bad part of town and she didn't want to be caught by someone she didn't see out here. She starts to run down the sidewalk, and the only thing heard in those parts were her little feet patting down the road to the swamp area. She walked through the mush, and wiped off the blood, replacing it with dirt and mud. She kept away from the deep ponds where the alligators were sleeping, and found the willow tree she slept under. She knew her way, she marked the trees with her knife, as it's a very large swamp. The willow was huge, and the erosion in the swamp made it look like it grew in the air above the ground. She crawled on her knees into the small, protective cave, and laid down against a root curled up. She dreams that night, not of killing the poor bastard that had stuffed her in the car; but of the blood rushing thrill of killing the fucker the sent him. |
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| It's a good story, minor spelling errors and whatnot. But overall, pretty good. Hope to see more. | |
| Reply by: RichardRizzo at Jun 10, '09 05:18 | |
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| Great read, Ritz. | |
| Reply by: Schizophrenic at Jun 10, '09 05:26 | |
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| Great story Ritz, I hope there is more to come. | |
| Reply by: Alfonse_Gangitano at Jun 10, '09 05:35 | |
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| Thanks guys, sorry about those errors. I stayed up till 6am writing it. Hah | |
| Reply by: Ritz at Jun 10, '09 06:01 | |
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| Very intriguing- it certainly has potential. Well done! | |
| Reply by: Kates at Jun 10, '09 06:33 | |
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