Wednesday, May 13, 2009

Projectile Chapter 1 [WIP]

Chapter 1

A car drove along, speeding at a moderate pace, tumbling along the roads as it winded through a small town. The girl driving the car seemed a mess, wearing a tight shirt, loose blue jeans with a woolen long coat adorning and warming her in the cold weather. She wore her raven black hair in a loose tangle of scattered and frayed curls, falling down to her shoulders, framing her pale face as it did. Her eyes were worn, but held a bit of a vibrant awareness about them, the deep amber of them flicking about as she spied 1the road lazily in the midday light. She was searching for something, someone rather. Someone who was said to be exceptionally strange, but had a weird sort of allurement.
“Matthias,” they spoke, “He’s a great bloke, really did me kind things.”
“That Matty,” one of her close friends said with a chuckle, “Lovely guy, he lives up north a bit, a patch of dirt called Wightton. So snowy all the time up there. He loves snow, you know…”
Wightton. It was a hard place to find and even then it was hard to get to, no main roads to it. You had to travel through small roads and capillaries through the forests of Wisconsin. A really quiet town, as well, of only about 500 people. It was a hilly sprawl of various stores and general markets, houses scattered in several areas inside and outside of town. Except one house. One house stood looming above the entire town. It was quite an obvious one as well, large, and perched on a hill nestled closely to the forest. It seemed to have a sort of fairytale effect, like it was a magical place. At least, that’s what it seemed to the girl.
She entered town with her car, passing by several houses and stores, but not even knowing her way. Eventually, she stopped, midtown and opened her door to get down and find directions. She walked for a bit and spotted very few people and only ever in the distance. That was until a man draped in a large coat entered her view. From what she could tell, which was very little, the man had long hair, black like the midnight skies, a similarly black hat adorning his head and shielding his eyes. He wore a red scarf, red like a rose, which flowed behind him as tightly as it was wrapped around his lower face. His coat was buttoned only at the middle, which kept it still and attached, but allowed free flow from breeze. He wore dark blue jeans, belted at below the waist, with what seemed like just a shirt under the jacket, despite the cold and snowy weather. The man was tall and exhumed a sort of presence around him, which could make a person feel uncomfortable and maybe scared, but he walked with ease that was like a graceful swan, or a ballerina in form.
The woman stared in awe for a moment, how this solitary figure just seemed to continue it’s rather macabre march. Then she came to find sense and slowly, she approached him.
“Sir?” she asked cautiously.
The man stopped and then turned to her. She could feel his eyes penetrating her, but it was not an ill intended stare.
“Yes, miss?” he asked, with a soft, somewhat wispy voice that had the texture of garnered silk and nails at the same time.
“W-well, I‘m Ch-Christine…” she stumbles and then points down the road at the house, “I need to know how to get there.”
The man tilts his head slightly, then chuckles, softly at first and then harder and harder, throwing his head back a moment to let the staccato noise ring. Moments later, he calms himself and then turns his attention back to her.
“That Matthias. That scoundrel, thief, ruffian, he’s a terrible man, why would even dare to seek him?” the figure spoke.
The girl’s eyes lit with confusion, her eyebrows pulling together to crease her forehead, “What do you mean? He’s done a great many things, from what I’ve heard! He single-handedly saved Chicago from the raiders! He rescued all the families in a crumbling tenement having only just stepped out of a taxi car!”
The woman glares at the man, “You know what!? You’re ignorant! Obviously, Matthias is a hero, but not for the likes of you! You just can’t see straight, huh?”
The man laughs louder, crumbling over a bit and then moving to reset himself,
“My, my, well, if you feel so strongly on the subject, we’ll have to debate a while. Maybe later.”
The woman growls and then opens her mouth, only to be stopped by a wave of the man’s hand. It wasn’t that she wanted to hear him, it was that she was stopped merely by the motion, like he could influence her, somehow.
“If you want to find the way to the ruffian’s house you need only follow the lights…”
Christine looked about, only now realizing how dark it had just gotten, it was near sunset and the sun gleamed off panels, like mirrors which decorated the road on each side. The street lit up like gold and everything was yellow and beautiful, like the town was made of gold. She stood there in awe at the spectacle, then turned to the man, though, finding him already walking down the street, his visage already vanishing from view.
“Great. Exactly what I needed…” she said to herself, “I can’t control myself…” she sighs and slowly walks back to her truck, though as she entered, she thought she could her a melodic laughing, pointed at her, but as soon as she realized it, it disappeared.

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