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Literature Text
“...Josh”
In the frail passage of time the tone of the voice lowered through each letter of my birth name, the soft feminine warmth began discolouring, the warm casing surrounding with the pure essence of tenderness eroded to nothing more than a bitter, vindictive voice slithering in devoid of affection, the hush of the word roughly executed into silence. The Italian presence in the tone enlightened the inaccurately force forwards of raw intimidation, it was true, Don Dispella’s reputation spoke more than his words ever could.
A younger voice broke the settling silence, his accent not as thick as Don’s that much was obvious, at least six months in the sunny state of Florida—all right for some.
“I think he’s with us again”
Don’s sarcastic wakening churned through my head like a barricade had just been broken by a horde of raging tribesmen, wave after wave after wave of sharp darts enraging some dormant part of me yet to rouse; bastard.
Rhetorical questions, gritted teeth, I could barely see him; I couldn’t help but think that was a good thing. I knew he’d be still dressed in old Italian rags, designer suits, old ties, old shoes shined up like new; just like his reputation a decade old but still going strong.
“Morning sunshine, Good to see you again, did you sleep well, you look a little drowsy”
In the frail passage of time the tone of the voice lowered through each letter of my birth name, the soft feminine warmth began discolouring, the warm casing surrounding with the pure essence of tenderness eroded to nothing more than a bitter, vindictive voice slithering in devoid of affection, the hush of the word roughly executed into silence. The Italian presence in the tone enlightened the inaccurately force forwards of raw intimidation, it was true, Don Dispella’s reputation spoke more than his words ever could.
A younger voice broke the settling silence, his accent not as thick as Don’s that much was obvious, at least six months in the sunny state of Florida—all right for some.
“I think he’s with us again”
Don’s sarcastic wakening churned through my head like a barricade had just been broken by a horde of raging tribesmen, wave after wave after wave of sharp darts enraging some dormant part of me yet to rouse; bastard.
Rhetorical questions, gritted teeth, I could barely see him; I couldn’t help but think that was a good thing. I knew he’d be still dressed in old Italian rags, designer suits, old ties, old shoes shined up like new; just like his reputation a decade old but still going strong.
“Morning sunshine, Good to see you again, did you sleep well, you look a little drowsy”
This is a story I owe someone for her story—well its her story that we created through our role play sessions at The Keep, which she wrote a story on and then wanted my input for a section where Josh (My Character) was though to be dead, and in one occasion linked dreams.
However, I’ve took forever doing this—well not doing, I’ve took forever -to- do this
haven’t finished, I haven’t been able to just sit and down and do it, so in all typical me fashion I decided to do the end where he wakes up.
So I can say I’ve finished it, but not yet started it
However, I’ve took forever doing this—well not doing, I’ve took forever -to- do this
haven’t finished, I haven’t been able to just sit and down and do it, so in all typical me fashion I decided to do the end where he wakes up.So I can say I’ve finished it, but not yet started it
© 2003 - 2024 taintedmafioso
Comments7
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great capture or an excelt crop. PERFECT.
