Freakshow - Chapter 3
A Multi-Author Episodic
Freakshow is an episodic adventure begun by
of Tiny Worlds. It’s a story where each chapter is written by a new author, so obviously I had to get in on this. I hope I contributed something interesting here and gave enough for to work off of. There is no story plan here, so each chapter is a surprise — join in the story and read along: I’ll update with links to future chapters.Chapter 3 — Keith Long (you are here)
Chapter 8 - Sandolore Sykes
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Music to read by — Gravity (feat. Josh Pan) by X&G
The goon was long gone, left standing in his own drool no doubt. She stepped into the rear alley, out under salt colored lights orbited by drunken fluttering planets. Buzzing. Everything buzzes in a city. She grabbed the fire escape without looking. The metal spoke to her in cemetery groans and rattling rust. She moved up it easily.
If the S.R. goon was capable of following her, he'd have to trace her contrails through the fog which bounced from rooftop to rooftop. She skipped like a stone and laughed like a kid. And she sizzled with potential.
She was the city, dangerous loud bright.
She might not belong anywhere, but she was home on rooftops and in pockets. She didn't belong with her father. She leapt across a final alley, landing crouched in an angry red glow. The restaurant neon hummed to her and her blood buzzed back.
The stunt in the record store was enough to get her stomach babbling. Twisting on people, making illusions, takes it out of her. Not reading them, she couldn't stop that if she tried – when she tried. She slid down the side of the building like rain, ducked out of the oppressive neon and into the restaurant’s dental yellow light, plucking three brown napkins from the dispenser on the table. There was nobody inside, the best part about a city at night.
She ordered pizza from a man resembling a shrunken head, handed the shrunken head the three napkins, said keep the change, and the man’s sewn eyes opened fully as he took the three $20 bills and said thank you. She winked, bit dough, and left.
She walked under sodium lights and in carbon shadows and the cars hissed by on the damp streets. She was always walking, and always away, never toward anything. Away from her father, away from her scams, away from everything, and the city was content to watch her taillights. But sometimes, something walked toward her. Sometimes, something caught up.
A hand latched onto her arm another clamping over her mouth pulling her hard into an unlit alley and a mouth whispered with bad breath, sitting words close inside her ear to say The Pig wasn’t happy with her not happy at all because she owed him money not newspapers but wouldn't you know it when he opened the case it was filled with newspapers and ain't that strange?
She bit him.
When he grabbed her, she saw everything in his head, saw The Pig's restaurant red face, spit flying, skin wagging, and she knew this was serious. She'd bit off more than she could chew so she spat the guys skin out, then buzzed. She tugged on his brain, felt the buzzing tingle in her spine, the hunger in her guts, then slimy pavement under her running feet, leaving the grunt drooling.
She needed ten grand fast. Might be time to call in a favor or two.
Or. The S.R. goon… dear old dad’s wallet was looking thick these days. She smiled at the night. She was untouchable, not even gravity could get a finger on her.
Always running away, the city swallowed her.
Artworks to Use — feel free to use any of these or none, it’s all Unsplash images.
Okay now. This is fun.
The intensity level just spiked. I ғᴇʟᴛ this one! 👏👏👏