Post by Carver on Jul 5, 2006 10:13:35 GMT -5
Caleb’s truck cruised slowly down the dark street. The lamps flickered, casting moving shadows on his face. Street-walkers. Three of them. The first was blonde, tall. The second had brown hair, like the woman (Anna Kavanaugh was her name, after a bit of research) but her face was all wrong. The next girl looked similar. Long, dark hair, sure, but her face was similar, and the way she carried herself…fragile confidence.
He slowed down as the truck neared her, and without any words, she opened the door and got in. Typical. He offered her an apple, what could she do, but take it?
“A preacher and a whore.” Said the girl. “Well, father, just don’t ask me to confess any sins. Although that’s not why you’re here…right?”
“No. Don’t call me father. Call me Caleb.” He said, stopping the vehicle in an alley. She looked enough like the one he really wanted.
“Well…Caleb. I’m Summer.” She leaned forward, and he suddenly pulled back, horrified.
“What the hell are you doing? Oh, don’t tell me you’re celibate or something…”
What was he doing? Down an alley, with some scum. He popped the glove compartment open, reaching into the darkness.
“Oh. Protection. Right.” Said Summer. Caleb responded by ripping his hand from the compartment, now clutching a serrated knife, and slashed once.
Blood spilled from her throat, her eyes widening, in pain but unable to scream. Her arms flailed out, and her long nails clawed at his face. He screamed, closing his eyes as blood dripped down his face. Her arms continued to flail, her eyes closing, and her hurried attempts to breath. She hit the radio, and suddenly it came to life.
Nobody can tell ya
There's only one song worth singing
They may try and sell ya
Cause it hangs them up
To see someone like you
You gotta make your own kind of music
Sing your own special song
Make your own kind music
Even if nobody else sings along!
He lunged at her, one eye still closed as he sat atop of her, holding his hands over her mouth as the blood spilled everywhere, spurting onto his clothes.
It can't be nowhere
The loneliest kind of lonely
It may be
Just to do your thing is the hardest things to do
You gotta make your own kind of music
Sing your own special song
Make your own kind music
Even if nobody else sings along!
And if you will not take my hand
Then I must be going, I'll understand
You gotta make your own kind of music
Sing your own special song
Make your own kind music
Even if nobody else sings along!
As life left her, he remained still, breathing heavily, just staring.
You gotta make your own kind of music
Sing your own special song
Make your own kind music
Even if nobody else sings along
You gotta make your own kind of music
Sing your own special song
Make your own kind music
Even if nobody else sings along
No no no no
Even if nobody else sings along
If nobody else sings along!
He slowed down as the truck neared her, and without any words, she opened the door and got in. Typical. He offered her an apple, what could she do, but take it?
“A preacher and a whore.” Said the girl. “Well, father, just don’t ask me to confess any sins. Although that’s not why you’re here…right?”
“No. Don’t call me father. Call me Caleb.” He said, stopping the vehicle in an alley. She looked enough like the one he really wanted.
“Well…Caleb. I’m Summer.” She leaned forward, and he suddenly pulled back, horrified.
“What the hell are you doing? Oh, don’t tell me you’re celibate or something…”
What was he doing? Down an alley, with some scum. He popped the glove compartment open, reaching into the darkness.
“Oh. Protection. Right.” Said Summer. Caleb responded by ripping his hand from the compartment, now clutching a serrated knife, and slashed once.
Blood spilled from her throat, her eyes widening, in pain but unable to scream. Her arms flailed out, and her long nails clawed at his face. He screamed, closing his eyes as blood dripped down his face. Her arms continued to flail, her eyes closing, and her hurried attempts to breath. She hit the radio, and suddenly it came to life.
Nobody can tell ya
There's only one song worth singing
They may try and sell ya
Cause it hangs them up
To see someone like you
You gotta make your own kind of music
Sing your own special song
Make your own kind music
Even if nobody else sings along!
He lunged at her, one eye still closed as he sat atop of her, holding his hands over her mouth as the blood spilled everywhere, spurting onto his clothes.
It can't be nowhere
The loneliest kind of lonely
It may be
Just to do your thing is the hardest things to do
You gotta make your own kind of music
Sing your own special song
Make your own kind music
Even if nobody else sings along!
And if you will not take my hand
Then I must be going, I'll understand
You gotta make your own kind of music
Sing your own special song
Make your own kind music
Even if nobody else sings along!
As life left her, he remained still, breathing heavily, just staring.
You gotta make your own kind of music
Sing your own special song
Make your own kind music
Even if nobody else sings along
You gotta make your own kind of music
Sing your own special song
Make your own kind music
Even if nobody else sings along
No no no no
Even if nobody else sings along
If nobody else sings along!
