This is very rough okay, I'm still working on. I just need your opinions on how its going. I am going to add more soon, its just I ran out of time.

Please don't be too harsh because I'm still working on it! Got it?

She is so Perfect [it hurts]

Chapter One: Sunday Bloody Sunday

Slimy rain slunk between the red sun drained bricks. Crystal droplets cobbled the exploding field of water that seemed to fall from the sky. People suited in raincoats and umbrellas hurried by. The occasional unprepared one in a t-shirt or dress fled across the puddle-flooded street, holding a newspaper or binder above their half soaked heads.

But really, they don’t, they fall from the soft grey clouds that hang low around the treetops.

I glance up from over my dampened leather notebook. Surveying the streets before me. I breathe in deeply, taking in the sweet scent of fresh rain and damp grass. People pass by, looking me up and down as if I where crazy for sitting under a tree in a rainstorm.

Just because it seems unpleasant doesn’t mean that someone can’t like it.

Absent-mindedly I bring the end of my pencil to my lips and let it pass through to my teeth. I bite down and let the eraser sink around my jaws and peel away from the wood of the pencil.

I gaze down at the mass of random thoughts scrabbled messily in my slick brown book. “Who the hell decided to give this to me anyways?” I blurt out. A short blond lady swings her overly makeuped face towards me and gives me a dirty down turned lip. I let her pass, cursing rude remarks in my head.

Of coarse I’ve got nothing nice to say, but why don’t I bother say it?

Looking up once more I shut my notebook and let my head flop down onto my knees.

I scream, instantly feeling the many eyes upon my back; all boring deep holes of instant hate into me. Rising to my feet I brush the damp grass from my blue board shorts. I watch the shreds of earth twist to the ground, pondering on the thought of writing it down. I decide not to and begin trudging up the street. Puddles made small raindrops giant bombs that exploded under my feet.

My hair stuck to my face like plaster tangling in front of my eyes. Ignoring it I look down at my torn Adidas they flexed so perfectly along with my feet, completely distracting me from the ‘real’ world. I stumble over a root in the cement and fall to my knees. Cursing under my breath I get back up, not even daring to look at the mess my legs where in. I knew it was bad, I could feel it. Mud and stones stung my skin triggering salty tears at the edges of my eyes. I blink them back and continue to limp down the street.

I check my watch-less hand, sighing as I make a mental note to put mine on in the morning.

"Sunday, Bloody Sunday" I hum, tapping to relaxed beat of the song. I smile to myself, noticing the tie in of my day. Stopping, I pull my notebook from under my arm and open it.

Sundays Bloodied Knees

--Sunday Bloody Sunday - U2 --

I jot the messy words down before closing it again and once more, continuing down the street.

***

[[more coming soon]]