Nessa too was sleeping soundly in her hut, Julian close by her side, when Keats’ wagging tail woke her slowly. She turned in her bed and suddenly realised that she was not in it. She was on the floor of her hut - no - she was... on the sidewalk?
Her eyes fluttered open and she sat straight up, discarding the newspapers - newspapers! - she had been lying under. What on earth was happening here?
“Julian?” she asked, unable to keep fearfulness out of her voice. She looked around but did not see her son anywhere near. “Julian!” But no answer safe odd looks from passers-by, who were looking at her like she was a piece of dirt.
It was only when she got to her feet that the stench of the city reached her nostrils. Never had she smelt something quite so poignant, so thick and vile. The air seemed to be hazier because of it. Nor had she ever seen such automobiles, or such tall buildings.
A poster on one of those tall buildings spoke of ‘Nostalgia’, well, that only began to describe what she felt. Most of it, however, was dread
( ... )
Rorschach pounded the alleyways with his brisk walk.
The night seemed thick with the stench of the city and the wasted souls aimlessly wandering in it. Rorschach heard the scream again, however. Close. He emerged from his alley. The city lights from porno shops and prostitution parlors selling "deep tissue massages" glared in his face. They reacquainted him with the city. With his city.
He assumed his position. The one people knew him by: hands deep in his coat pockets. Collar up. Brisk walk. Seemingly unaware and uncaring. Being noticeably hurried only stirred up interest and often, those nosey liberals and street thugs who pursued their interest, would interfere. And Rorschach didn't need interference.
But then he saw her, unmistakable and totally out of place. Rorschach panicked and pressed against a brick wall. This is New York City. This isn't that damn island. But then why was she here? Vanessa Bell. His thoughts raced and under his leather gloves, his palms accumulated sweat
( ... )
The sudden pull from the man in the mask caused yet another scream and when they were in that alley she couldn't but lean on a dirty wall for support. This was simply too much for her to cope with.
"Where are we?" She asked Rorschach. It was good, she supposed, that there was someone else there whom she knew. Though, she doubted knowing Rorschach here would do much good.
He kept ahold of her arm. Rorschach didn't want her to try and run away and end up down in the slums or turning down a wrong path. It was easy to do here.
"This isn't the island anymore. Stay close," Rorschach told her quickly as he peered around the alley wall. "You're dressed strangely. You're screaming. You'd attractive attention. It'd be unsafe," Rorschach let go of her arm and turned down the alley. He walked into the dark.
Comments 25
Her eyes fluttered open and she sat straight up, discarding the newspapers - newspapers! - she had been lying under. What on earth was happening here?
“Julian?” she asked, unable to keep fearfulness out of her voice. She looked around but did not see her son anywhere near. “Julian!” But no answer safe odd looks from passers-by, who were looking at her like she was a piece of dirt.
It was only when she got to her feet that the stench of the city reached her nostrils. Never had she smelt something quite so poignant, so thick and vile. The air seemed to be hazier because of it. Nor had she ever seen such automobiles, or such tall buildings.
A poster on one of those tall buildings spoke of ‘Nostalgia’, well, that only began to describe what she felt. Most of it, however, was dread ( ... )
Reply
The night seemed thick with the stench of the city and the wasted souls aimlessly wandering in it. Rorschach heard the scream again, however. Close. He emerged from his alley. The city lights from porno shops and prostitution parlors selling "deep tissue massages" glared in his face. They reacquainted him with the city. With his city.
He assumed his position. The one people knew him by: hands deep in his coat pockets. Collar up. Brisk walk. Seemingly unaware and uncaring. Being noticeably hurried only stirred up interest and often, those nosey liberals and street thugs who pursued their interest, would interfere. And Rorschach didn't need interference.
But then he saw her, unmistakable and totally out of place. Rorschach panicked and pressed against a brick wall. This is New York City. This isn't that damn island. But then why was she here? Vanessa Bell. His thoughts raced and under his leather gloves, his palms accumulated sweat ( ... )
Reply
"Where are we?" She asked Rorschach. It was good, she supposed, that there was someone else there whom she knew. Though, she doubted knowing Rorschach here would do much good.
Reply
"This isn't the island anymore. Stay close," Rorschach told her quickly as he peered around the alley wall. "You're dressed strangely. You're screaming. You'd attractive attention. It'd be unsafe," Rorschach let go of her arm and turned down the alley. He walked into the dark.
"Follow me."
Reply
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