HOUSE OF BROKEN SOULS. Part 2a
Warnings: This Chapter: None. Overall: Slash, sexually explicit content, graphic violence
The fiction includes a mental illness storyline. I am not qualified in mental health, everything I know about it is googled. It's fantasy folks, please don't shoot me though helpful criticism is always welcomed.
*Not real. The folks aren't mine. No damage intended.
Autumn 2010, New Tenant
Friday
A lone leaf chased past his pale face. For a moment, vivid green eyes followed its path along the empty grey street, past the truck busy with burly men.
Jensen Ackles paid the cab driver, muttered his thanks and included a reasonable tip. There had been no cheery banter or ridiculous small talk, just an efficient, smooth ride from the airport. Jensen figured it was worth a decent tip.
He looked up at the three storey apartment block, Madison House Mansions. New city, new start
Three steps up, then through the leaded glass door. Jensen breathed in the smell of wax polish and baking. The lobby mimicked the exterior with its elegant art-deco style, and a sweeping, curved staircase to the upper levels. There was shiny floor and marble pillars, sparkling glass in the windows and well-placed urns sprouting evergreen plants. It wasn’t ostentatious, there were corners where the plasterwork had seen better days, and if you looked closely, there were slight cracks in the patterned glass. It was a well cared for, clean and quiet, period building
The movers stacked boxes into the elevator at the rear of the lobby, so Jensen took hold of the cool, smooth banister and used it to pull himself up. He climbed the stairs slowly, steadying himself with the stick in his left hand. His steps echoed, adding to the general murmur of the movers’ conversation, scraping boxes, and the squeak of dollies.
Jensen was wealthy. He could choose a modern home in a trendy area of the City, but this apartment was recommended by the pretty blonde realtor with a cheeky smile. She told him this was her first month in the job, that this was the “most gorgeous” building on her books, and that it had the “nicest” residents. Her bouncy enthusiasm convinced him to take a look
His own impression of the apartment was that it was peaceful and homey. He had pulled strings with old colleagues to find out that crime was no less prevalent here than in the rest of the City, but it tended to be petty. He had a good feeling about the place and had signed the contracts in short time. He remembered the wide eyed ‘O’ expression on the realtor’s face when she had taken him for a celebratory coffee, and the awkwardness when she had suggested meeting up for a date. He had gently told he was flattered but she wasn’t his type. In fact no woman was his type.
Jensen stopped halfway up the flight of stairs. His back ached and there were pains in his knee. He wondered whether he should have waited for the elevator to be cleared. Sighing, he continued upward. His apartment was on the second floor
Continue to part 2b: anniespinkhouse.livejournal.com/1442.html
The fiction includes a mental illness storyline. I am not qualified in mental health, everything I know about it is googled. It's fantasy folks, please don't shoot me though helpful criticism is always welcomed.
*Not real. The folks aren't mine. No damage intended.
Autumn 2010, New Tenant
Friday
A lone leaf chased past his pale face. For a moment, vivid green eyes followed its path along the empty grey street, past the truck busy with burly men.
Jensen Ackles paid the cab driver, muttered his thanks and included a reasonable tip. There had been no cheery banter or ridiculous small talk, just an efficient, smooth ride from the airport. Jensen figured it was worth a decent tip.
He looked up at the three storey apartment block, Madison House Mansions. New city, new start
Three steps up, then through the leaded glass door. Jensen breathed in the smell of wax polish and baking. The lobby mimicked the exterior with its elegant art-deco style, and a sweeping, curved staircase to the upper levels. There was shiny floor and marble pillars, sparkling glass in the windows and well-placed urns sprouting evergreen plants. It wasn’t ostentatious, there were corners where the plasterwork had seen better days, and if you looked closely, there were slight cracks in the patterned glass. It was a well cared for, clean and quiet, period building
The movers stacked boxes into the elevator at the rear of the lobby, so Jensen took hold of the cool, smooth banister and used it to pull himself up. He climbed the stairs slowly, steadying himself with the stick in his left hand. His steps echoed, adding to the general murmur of the movers’ conversation, scraping boxes, and the squeak of dollies.
Jensen was wealthy. He could choose a modern home in a trendy area of the City, but this apartment was recommended by the pretty blonde realtor with a cheeky smile. She told him this was her first month in the job, that this was the “most gorgeous” building on her books, and that it had the “nicest” residents. Her bouncy enthusiasm convinced him to take a look
His own impression of the apartment was that it was peaceful and homey. He had pulled strings with old colleagues to find out that crime was no less prevalent here than in the rest of the City, but it tended to be petty. He had a good feeling about the place and had signed the contracts in short time. He remembered the wide eyed ‘O’ expression on the realtor’s face when she had taken him for a celebratory coffee, and the awkwardness when she had suggested meeting up for a date. He had gently told he was flattered but she wasn’t his type. In fact no woman was his type.
Jensen stopped halfway up the flight of stairs. His back ached and there were pains in his knee. He wondered whether he should have waited for the elevator to be cleared. Sighing, he continued upward. His apartment was on the second floor
Continue to part 2b: anniespinkhouse.livejournal.com/1442.html