North Town
North Townšš„š¢šÆš¢'š° š šŖš¬š²š°š¢ š¦š« š±š„š¢ š„š¬š²š°š¢. šš¢š± š²š° š±škš¢ š ššÆš¢ š¬š£ š±š„šš±, š°š„šš©š© š“š¢?
"I... I don't like this..."
šš„šš± š®š²š¢š°š±š¦š¬š« š“šš° šÆš„š¢š±š¬šÆš¦š šš©. šš¢ š„šš³š¢ š šÆš¬š”š¢š«š±, š°š š²šÆšÆš¶š¦š«š¤ ššÆš¬š²š«š”. āš± š±š„š¦š«kš° š¦š± š„šš° š£š¦š«šš©š©š¶ š°šŖš¢š©š©š¢š” š£š¬š¬š”. āš²šÆšÆš¶ š«š¬š“, š“š¢ šŖš²š°š± š°š„š¬š“ š„š¢šÆ š±š„š¦š° š£š¢šš°š± š¦š° š«š¬š± š£š¦š± š£š¬šÆ š°š šš³š¢š«š¤š¢šÆ. šš¬šÆ š¦š± š¦š° š°š±š¦š©š© š³š¢šÆš¶ šŖš²š š„ šš©š¦š³š¢.
āā
While you sit and dwell on the information of your long dead brother, There is a shift in the shadows between the car-width space denoting the dead end half-alley across the street. Shapes twist and pull, the glimmer of light flickers from interior lighting, some lat-night crunch-time netter drawing too much juice into his 16 hour work binge. The swirling cacophony of people having their own lives, their own conversations pass on by, flitting to and fro between you and the alley. Giving a stop motion effect to the outward step, and then the other, of the slim man in the long coat. His glasses smeared with thumbprints, reflecting the lights from high intensity street lamps that give North Town it's theater of safety.šš¬š² š°š¢š¢ š„š¢šÆ, šš¬š«'š± š¶š¬š² šš¢š©š¦šµ? šš²šÆ š“š„š¦š°kš¢šÆš¢š” š£šÆš¦š¢š«š”. šš¬š¬k šš± š„š¢šÆ, š°š«š¦š£š£š¦š«š¤ ššš¬š²š±. šš« š±š„š¢ š±šÆšš¦š© š¬š£ š š”šš«š¤š¢šÆš¬š²š° ššÆš¢š”šš±š¬šÆ. šš¢š±'š° š¤š¬ š°šš¶ āš¢š©š©š¬...
"ā¦I don't want to."Almost at once, its as if he had parted the sea. Moses reborn, the human storm actively avoiding him as he stepped out into the street and shambled over toward you. His gait stilted, hobbled, without grace.
As he gets closer the people on the other side of the street, in front of your seated position, also seem to want to avoid him, taking the route into the street and around him.
His features gaunt. His skin sallow and porous. There looked to be an open sore on his cheek. His hair greasy a scraggly mop atop his head. It becomes clear almost immediately why everyone was avoiding him on his way over.
He stinks. Rotten. Carrion. Flies crawl along his coat, lifting off and landing. Into his hair, beneath his collar.
"Hello."
His voice meek, troubled.
*sees the meteorite that emme has delievered*excellent!!!!
North Townšš„š¢šÆš¢'š° š šŖš¬š²š°š¢ š¦š« š±š„š¢ š„š¬š²š°š¢. šš¢š± š²š° š±škš¢ š ššÆš¢ š¬š£ š±š„šš±, š°š„šš©š© š“š¢?
"I... I don't like this..."
šš„šš± š®š²š¢š°š±š¦š¬š« š“šš° šÆš„š¢š±š¬šÆš¦š šš©. šš¢ š„šš³š¢ š šÆš¬š”š¢š«š±, š°š š²šÆšÆš¶š¦š«š¤ ššÆš¬š²š«š”. āš± š±š„š¦š«kš° š¦š± š„šš° š£š¦š«šš©š©š¶ š°šŖš¢š©š©š¢š” š£š¬š¬š”. āš²šÆšÆš¶ š«š¬š“, š“š¢ šŖš²š°š± š°š„š¬š“ š„š¢šÆ š±š„š¦š° š£š¢šš°š± š¦š° š«š¬š± š£š¦š± š£š¬šÆ š°š šš³š¢š«š¤š¢šÆ. šš¬šÆ š¦š± š¦š° š°š±š¦š©š© š³š¢šÆš¶ šŖš²š š„ šš©š¦š³š¢.
āā
While you sit and dwell on the information of your long dead brother, There is a shift in the shadows between the car-width space denoting the dead end half-alley across the street. Shapes twist and pull, the glimmer of light flickers from interior lighting, some lat-night crunch-time netter drawing too much juice into his 16 hour work binge. The swirling cacophony of people having their own lives, their own conversations pass on by, flitting to and fro between you and the alley. Giving a stop motion effect to the outward step, and then the other, of the slim man in the long coat. His glasses smeared with thumbprints, reflecting the lights from high intensity street lamps that give North Town it's theater of safety.šš¬š² š°š¢š¢ š„š¢šÆ, šš¬š«'š± š¶š¬š² šš¢š©š¦šµ? šš²šÆ š“š„š¦š°kš¢šÆš¢š” š£šÆš¦š¢š«š”. šš¬š¬k šš± š„š¢šÆ, š°š«š¦š£š£š¦š«š¤ ššš¬š²š±. šš« š±š„š¢ š±šÆšš¦š© š¬š£ š š”šš«š¤š¢šÆš¬š²š° ššÆš¢š”šš±š¬šÆ. šš¢š±'š° š¤š¬ š°šš¶ āš¢š©š©š¬...
"ā¦I don't want to."Almost at once, its as if he had parted the sea. Moses reborn, the human storm actively avoiding him as he stepped out into the street and shambled over toward you. His gait stilted, hobbled, without grace.
As he gets closer the people on the other side of the street, in front of your seated position, also seem to want to avoid him, taking the route into the street and around him.
His features gaunt. His skin sallow and porous. There looked to be an open sore on his cheek. His hair greasy a scraggly mop atop his head. It becomes clear almost immediately why everyone was avoiding him on his way over.
He stinks. Rotten. Carrion. Flies crawl along his coat, lifting off and landing. Into his hair, beneath his collar.
"Hello."
His voice meek, troubled.
ohhhhhhhhhhh baby
For me, it is the travel that inpires me to read every book I can get on the geography, biome, history and culture of the place.
Not sure I can single out a place.
duh
North Townšš„š¢šÆš¢'š° š šŖš¬š²š°š¢ š¦š« š±š„š¢ š„š¬š²š°š¢. šš¢š± š²š° š±škš¢ š ššÆš¢ š¬š£ š±š„šš±, š°š„šš©š© š“š¢?
"I... I don't like this..."
šš„šš± š®š²š¢š°š±š¦š¬š« š“šš° šÆš„š¢š±š¬šÆš¦š šš©. šš¢ š„šš³š¢ š šÆš¬š”š¢š«š±, š°š š²šÆšÆš¶š¦š«š¤ ššÆš¬š²š«š”. āš± š±š„š¦š«kš° š¦š± š„šš° š£š¦š«šš©š©š¶ š°šŖš¢š©š©š¢š” š£š¬š¬š”. āš²šÆšÆš¶ š«š¬š“, š“š¢ šŖš²š°š± š°š„š¬š“ š„š¢šÆ š±š„š¦š° š£š¢šš°š± š¦š° š«š¬š± š£š¦š± š£š¬šÆ š°š šš³š¢š«š¤š¢šÆ. šš¬šÆ š¦š± š¦š° š°š±š¦š©š© š³š¢šÆš¶ šŖš²š š„ šš©š¦š³š¢.
——
While you sit and dwell on the information of your long dead brother, There is a shift in the shadows between the car-width space denoting the dead end half-alley across the street. Shapes twist and pull, the glimmer of light flickers from interior lighting, some lat-night crunch-time netter drawing too much juice into his 16 hour work binge. The swirling cacophony of people having their own lives, their own conversations pass on by, flitting to and fro between you and the alley. Giving a stop motion effect to the outward step, and then the other, of the slim man in the long coat. His glasses smeared with thumbprints, reflecting the lights from high intensity street lamps that give North Town it's theater of safety.
šš¬š² š°š¢š¢ š„š¢šÆ, šš¬š«'š± š¶š¬š² šš¢š©š¦šµ? šš²šÆ š“š„š¦š°šØš¢šÆš¢š” š£šÆš¦š¢š«š”. šš¬š¬šØ šš± š„š¢šÆ, š°š«š¦š£š£š¦š«š¤ ššš¬š²š±. šš« š±š„š¢ š±šÆšš¦š© š¬š£ š š”šš«š¤š¢šÆš¬š²š° ššÆš¢š”šš±š¬šÆ. šš¢š±'š° š¤š¬ š°šš¶ āš¢š©š©š¬...
"…I don't want to."
Almost at once, its as if he had parted the sea. Moses reborn, the human storm actively avoiding him as he stepped out into the street and shambled over toward you. His gait stilted, hobbled, without grace.
As he gets closer the people on the other side of the street, in front of your seated position, also seem to want to avoid him, taking the route into the street and around him.
His features gaunt. His skin sallow and porous. There looked to be an open sore on his cheek. His hair greasy a scraggly mop atop his head. It becomes clear almost immediately why everyone was avoiding him on his way over.
He stinks. Rotten. Carrion. Flies crawl along his coat, lifting off and landing. Into his hair, beneath his collar.
"Hello."
His voice meek, troubled.
*waves*Happy Birthday!
looks around a bit while seeing if anybody is around yet
OHHHHHHHHHHHH. Thank you!!
Lets go of your tongue now."Sorry. Did I ruin the mood?"
Humping into you roughly a few times.
"Did that help?"
Giggles.
Goes into bouts of silent laughter.
aaerghhhhhblllbbblbbnnneee
Suspicious
*polishes the bar counter*
I'm taking each toe between my lips and sucking deeply.....in rhythm with my hips.bucking into you
khushidawson has started a new game with the following players:
khushidawson
May your day be filled with pleasures and your year with blessings.Happy Birthday!