One of my story openings I thought I'd post, for all of you who are bored and have nothing better to do. lol
Virus 001
Alcohol was once a pleasure, now it’s a guide. I never have time to get involved in a street fight caused by pointless protest, or sober enough to care. Tucking the empty bottle up my sleeve, I glance at my fingerless gloves. They’re torn and abused, although they no longer keep my hands warm, it is fantastic to have them. It is rare to own something if you’ve lived on the streets since your teens. Cloth hangs limp on the table in front of me, red and white cheques balancing a salt and pepper pot. A bell rings, I have heard this many times before. The bell ringing means I must pull my jet black hair across my eyes as someone is entering. It could have easily been a gang member, but luckily it was only the police.
No longer effective as authority, I missed them. I wasn’t sure why pity crept upon me every time a perfectly uniformed officer would stroll past my side. Why when you hold such power, would you choose to ignore it? Perhaps the force was scared, they’re human after all. Though I bet the nervousness when they were their most powerful could ever compare to now.
The streets were becoming disrupted again, a small group of protesters are fighting and a crazed preacher is picking up a brick from the pavement, throwing it at the nearest shop window I run outside - this is my chance. A few of the TV screens flash blue, suddenly the latest news bulletin is sprawled across them. I found myself not the only one to stop and stare, to get news was rare. Even the fighting had paused for an intake of silence.
Scientists working at NASA have finally created a man made cure to fight the mysterious virus caught by the five astronaughts. The five were on an investigation last month to find if there was water on the moon and seemed to return to earth in a battered state. The trip seems to have proven Scientists at NASA research are lacking the knowledge needed to carry out such an expedition. Virus 001, as it has been nicknamed by the media, seems to be disappearing from the astronaughts blood samples. According to Dr.Shiefer, head of NASA research, everything is under control and now the unknown threat has met its end.
“Man made cure.” I laughed to myself, not knowing what to believe in anymore. I thought virus had the ability to mutate?
“It’s the end!” The preacher screeched, “This is punishment at Gods will!”
I wipe my forehead and begin to stumble back through the crowd. Their eyes are still watching the televisions intently. Ash prominently drifts downward, over my weakened body and unsteady pace. The soft winter breeze pushing it to swirl, circle after circle. The war often left small traces of disaster such as this. I prefer to concentrate on the small detail such as the ash that fills the sky above me. It remains to be more reassuring of a happy ending than the recently bombed office building it streams from.
While many in London are frightened, losing jobs, homes and family - I am calm. My thoughts click backward, like cogs in the most delicate pocket watch. Fear may not have my attention, Virus 001 does. What else was there? This mystery is all I have.
“Oi, you! Stop!” Hearing the deep voice echo from behind, I turn and the blurred figure from my mind is revealed in reality. It is the same policeman from the café, the pale complexion and evergreen eyes are unmistakeable. Clean, sharp features, he puts me in mind of my father.
“Did you hear that?” He pants, I can see his exhale thanks to current temperature.
“Not interested.” I reply, transfixed on the heavy pockets of his jacket. I imagine what could be lying deep inside them. Gun, watch, packet of cigarettes. With such items I could commit murder, the most common crime in this day and age, record the time of death and even have a smoke afterward.
“They’ve cured it, aren’t you happy? Why aren’t you celebrating?”
The sound of his panting and the impatient tone in his voice was begging to irritate me.
I lifted my head and stared straight-faced, “I’m homeless.”
I begin to walk away, looking forward to a quick escape, until I realise he is not going but walking beside me. The same pace, our footsteps in time and sync.
“Better than being dead.”
“What do you want? I have nothing.” You never could be sure. Without a home you grow up fast, in a huge city with no protection and nobody to turn to. Forced to learn. Your trust in humanity disappears quickly after being beaten for your sleeping bag, or spat on by a business executive passing you on the bridge. Believe it or not, I am one of the lucky ones.
