The girl felt irritated. Staying in one area for too long did that to her. The neighborhood had changed far beyond anything she could have imagined since the last she'd been here. But that didn't mean anything. There were other places to see, people to observe...minds to play with.
She hopped from the a rooftop, onto a dividing wall in a back alley. Back alleys were a place of particular interest her. A better place to be than boring old "safe" main streets where proper citizens, with properly boring thoughts walked around. Afraid to set a toe out of line. She'd found some almost "fascinating" minds to play with here, in the back alleys, with their rotting garbage, winos, homeless people and of course dealers...and their customers.
The girl pushed a few strands out of her face as she watched one of said customers shoot something up, not ten feet away from the dealer. Said customer slid down a wall, twitched and stilled. The glazed look on her face belied the circus in her mind. She loved observing minds under the influence of something or the other. Straight lines became twisty labyrinths, psychedelic colors blurred around each and other and if she was lucky scattered half-formed ideas in the back of the mind snapped into place. Creation happening right at the source, untainted by words...like right now.
Quieter than a cat the girl slid down from her perch and walked up to the glassy-eyed woman. The latter didn't move a muscle, oblivious to the stringy haired figure in front of her. The girl bent close and placed her hands on the woman's head.
She came to see what misery would drive her to these alleys what darkness she tries to run from. foolish as it may seem she was disappointed, this was a coward running away from the petty challenges of her life.... a broken heart, a sad excuse for a mother, dead dreams ...she seemed pathetic... she could end her and put her out of her misery. Not worth her time., nothing new...or next morning their would be an excited woman who shoved her needles off the table and replaced them with paper and pencils. This women’s fate was entirely in her hands. Decisions...decisions.
The girl concentrated for a second and left her behind in the alley. Creative people weren't always considered sane. Who said her newly minted inventor couldn’t be crazy enough to be locked up later or drive herself to suicide by an unending barrage thoughts. She chuckled to herself. Anything was possible, and she couldn’t wait to find out.
She hopped from the a rooftop, onto a dividing wall in a back alley. Back alleys were a place of particular interest her. A better place to be than boring old "safe" main streets where proper citizens, with properly boring thoughts walked around. Afraid to set a toe out of line. She'd found some almost "fascinating" minds to play with here, in the back alleys, with their rotting garbage, winos, homeless people and of course dealers...and their customers.
The girl pushed a few strands out of her face as she watched one of said customers shoot something up, not ten feet away from the dealer. Said customer slid down a wall, twitched and stilled. The glazed look on her face belied the circus in her mind. She loved observing minds under the influence of something or the other. Straight lines became twisty labyrinths, psychedelic colors blurred around each and other and if she was lucky scattered half-formed ideas in the back of the mind snapped into place. Creation happening right at the source, untainted by words...like right now.
Quieter than a cat the girl slid down from her perch and walked up to the glassy-eyed woman. The latter didn't move a muscle, oblivious to the stringy haired figure in front of her. The girl bent close and placed her hands on the woman's head.
She came to see what misery would drive her to these alleys what darkness she tries to run from. foolish as it may seem she was disappointed, this was a coward running away from the petty challenges of her life.... a broken heart, a sad excuse for a mother, dead dreams ...she seemed pathetic... she could end her and put her out of her misery. Not worth her time., nothing new...or next morning their would be an excited woman who shoved her needles off the table and replaced them with paper and pencils. This women’s fate was entirely in her hands. Decisions...decisions.
The girl concentrated for a second and left her behind in the alley. Creative people weren't always considered sane. Who said her newly minted inventor couldn’t be crazy enough to be locked up later or drive herself to suicide by an unending barrage thoughts. She chuckled to herself. Anything was possible, and she couldn’t wait to find out.
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