Backstage in a run-down bar off New York's edge, a man with a guitar across his back flirts with two mortal females in his dressing room. The bar's owner pops in and shoos the women out without a word, then giving the man the indication that it's closing time. He simply nods and grabs the keys to his old rusted blue 54 Chevy 3100 pick-up. Walking out, he opened up the driver's door that widened with a nasty creak to it that was in need of repair, stuffing the number of the one woman in cup holder. Alexander threw off his shirt and replaced it with a plain red t-shirt, hopping into his seat that molded into his backside comfortably.
The engine roared to life with a turn of a simple silver key, pulling it into reverse slowly out towards the open country road. As the pick-up made it's way down the road, out of the corner of his icy blue hues he saw the neon OPEN sign from the bar look it's light in the distance. Alexander turned up the music on the old stereo system he managed to put in, blasting Guns N' Roses has he made his way down the shortcut towards his trailer home. He looked to the gas dial upon the dashboard, unfortunately the orange hand was directly on the Empty. "Damn it. Come on, love. You can make it." He whispered desperately to the vehicle as if it were able to respond.
The deeper the truck moved into the dark woods, the slower it sped. It's engine died, and Alexander punched the horn irritatedly with his own stupidity. He never was one for remembering things, usually his brother kept things from being miss-placed. All Alexander had to do was provide food and the next shelter. If only he were here. He broke open the door again, coming around to the front to sit on the car's hood. The moonlight lit up the side of his features while the other side stayed darkened with a shadow. Noises of the night croaked and hooted from the trees of the forest on either sides of the road.
His head lifted as a strange scent of civilization swirled in his breathing range. It's odor consisted of the same as his kind but he was not for certain. For months he had lived in the trailer park just eight miles out, he could walk home and grab a ride to the work tomorrow or follow the foreign pack instead in attempt to clear his curiosity. Alexander slid off the hood, hitting his dirty red converse against the ground with a thud. The man crossed the street, disappearing into the forest's edge towards the scent. His ripped, baggy jeans trailed behind, swishing against the dewy evening grass as he walked. "Is anyone there?" His words came out in a rasp, smooth tone with a confidence but held a tinge of fear behind it.
The engine roared to life with a turn of a simple silver key, pulling it into reverse slowly out towards the open country road. As the pick-up made it's way down the road, out of the corner of his icy blue hues he saw the neon OPEN sign from the bar look it's light in the distance. Alexander turned up the music on the old stereo system he managed to put in, blasting Guns N' Roses has he made his way down the shortcut towards his trailer home. He looked to the gas dial upon the dashboard, unfortunately the orange hand was directly on the Empty. "Damn it. Come on, love. You can make it." He whispered desperately to the vehicle as if it were able to respond.
The deeper the truck moved into the dark woods, the slower it sped. It's engine died, and Alexander punched the horn irritatedly with his own stupidity. He never was one for remembering things, usually his brother kept things from being miss-placed. All Alexander had to do was provide food and the next shelter. If only he were here. He broke open the door again, coming around to the front to sit on the car's hood. The moonlight lit up the side of his features while the other side stayed darkened with a shadow. Noises of the night croaked and hooted from the trees of the forest on either sides of the road.
His head lifted as a strange scent of civilization swirled in his breathing range. It's odor consisted of the same as his kind but he was not for certain. For months he had lived in the trailer park just eight miles out, he could walk home and grab a ride to the work tomorrow or follow the foreign pack instead in attempt to clear his curiosity. Alexander slid off the hood, hitting his dirty red converse against the ground with a thud. The man crossed the street, disappearing into the forest's edge towards the scent. His ripped, baggy jeans trailed behind, swishing against the dewy evening grass as he walked. "Is anyone there?" His words came out in a rasp, smooth tone with a confidence but held a tinge of fear behind it.