Young Writers Society

For everyone who helped me get this started.

Alice, RoryLegend, LilyReagan, Fandilocks…

If I’ve forgotten anyone please let me know

Owen walked down the darkened alleyways of New York with a feeling of dread. Typical paranoia, he thought, but the hissing of a cat burst him into a near run. Before long though, he was safely inside the bar, which he knew to be a blind pig. He didn’t have much money on his person at the moment, but that didn’t really matter. He looked around before sinking down into a wooden chair to gather himself. He took a few deep breaths and rested his head in his hands. It had been a long day, followed by an even longer night.

That morning when he first woke up he discovered that his alarm clock hadn’t gone off. Then while he was in the shower he some how managed to slip on the bathroom floor and crack his head on the sink. At work he had burnt his hand on a hot plate, and nearly yelled at one of the other waiters. And now with his feeling of paranoia it was a complete day.

He looked up and sighed, just great, he thought looking out a window, it had started to rain. He got up and walked towards the bar, planning on getting himself a strong drink to get his mind off the horrible feeling of dread. He sat down with a heavy sigh and looked around at the others in the bar. It was your normal crowd of late night drinkers and partiers. Then he saw her. She looked out of place, her chestnut red hair, her pale skin, but somehow at the same time she looked like she was at home in the smoke and peanut shells. She looked back with golden eyes, but only for a second before she turned back to look at the television hanging from the wall.

Owen turned back to the bartender and ordered his drink while his mind was trying to place the strange and pretty woman sitting across the hall. Laying some money on the bar he turned around drink in hand to watch the woman. She didn’t seem to notice his staring or maybe she did but she didn’t care, either way she just continued to watch the sports. As the night slowly turned towards daybreak the bar began to empty, soon there where only a handful of people sitting around drinking. Owen pushed his empty mug back on the bar and stood up, stifling a yawn. He turned to walk out of the bar, he turned to look back one last time. The woman looked back with a smile, and gave him a small wave as he walked out into the street.

As he walked down the sidewalk he failed to notice that a fairly large group of men who started to follow after him. He turned down an alleyway, which he knew to be a shortcut, speeding up slightly, not wanting to be out on the streets much longer. He looked over his shoulder as he turned the corner, catching the eye of one of the men, whose grin disturbed him greatly. The man seemed to be plotting something, like he would like nothing more than to jump Owen. He rushed into his apartment building and up the dirty stairwell to his apartment, locking the door swiftly behind him. He sat down on his beige colored sofa with a sigh, he kicked off his tennis shoes and peeled off his socks. He grabbed the remote from the coffee table and flicked on the television. He flicked through the channels aimlessly, finding nothing worth watching, except for some infomercials. He turned it off and made his way down the dimly lit hall to his bedroom. He pulled off his t-shirt and threw it on the floor with the rest of his dirty clothes. He crawled into his queen bed not bothering to move the jersey comforter, he closed his dark blue eyes and fell asleep quickly.

The next morning he woke up to the song “Girlfriend“. He sat up with a moan and groped around for his phone, it wasn’t on his bedside table like he had though, so he began to search the rest of his room throwing dirty shirts and boxers everywhere making his already messy room, messier. He sighed and stuffed his hands into his pants pockets in defeat. He slowly withdrew one of his hands to find his cell phone, he looked at the number before flipping open his phone to answer the call.

“Hey, what’s going on?”

“I need to you come into work today, Owen,” said a very feminine voice.

“Alright, when?”

“Now if you don’t mind.”

“Gotcha, be there soon.”

He closed his phone and began to change, he pulled on his black dress pants then went to his closet, pulling out a white button down shirt. Owen walked into his back to study the damage of last nights drink. His green eyes were blood shot, his dirty blond hair sticking up in the back. He sighed and combed it down with a little gel he kept hidden. Once he was statistician with himself, he walked out of his room, buttoning his shirt and while making sure to grab his jacket from the bathroom door on his way out. He locked his door and walked down the many steps to the street. He hailed a taxi and rode the few blocks to the restaurant. As he walked in the service entrance on the side of the brick building he was the strange, but pretty woman. He hung his jacket in the small employee’s lounge and clocked himself in before heading straight into the stainless steal kitchen.

“Hey, Wolfe, come over here!”

“Just the person I was looking for. What’s up, Sara?”

“I bet, now get your butt in here,” she said walking into the office, Owen following behind her. She sat down behind the desk with a sigh and motioned for him sit down as well. He sat.

“I need to you to start pulling double shifts for a while. We just lost another waiter due to all the gang wars in the area. I hope you’ll be okay with that, I know you live in the area so it wouldn’t be hard for you to get here,” she looked at him hopefully.

“God, Sara, I hope you plan on paying me overtime for this.” He rolled his eyes and looked at her with a smile. “For how long?”

“We’ve got no idea, the police aren’t doing anything about it. We’re getting a lot of people lately. So until we can get someone else in here, you’re it.” She sounded distressed. It wasn’t easy running one of the most popular restaurants in the city, nor was it easy to ask one of the most asked for waiters to pull double duty for God only knows how long.

Owen placed his hand on hers gently, “I understand, Sara. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got work to do. You can just leave my new schedule in my jacket pocket, alright?”

Sara smiled and nodded thankfully. Owen walked out of the office with a small smile on his face, he needed the extra income, things where beginning to get a little tight. As he walked through the kitchen, he noticed that a lot the kitchen staff was being silent, which was odd for them. He thought about asking them what was going on, but the moment he stepped out into the main room he knew. He stopped dead in his tracks, only one table was empty, the rest where surrounded by Italians. He swallowed and made his way towards his first table.

As he made his rounds, he noticed that one of the other waiters was watching him from the kitchen window. He mouthed Get you sorry ass out here, before going to the last table. He made his way back to the kitchen, his expression going from happy waiter, to pissed off. He glared at the other waiters sitting in the back as he handed the orders to the head chef. He walked to the back room and leaned against the door frame.

“I know I’m head waiter, but that doesn’t mean you guys can sit on your asses while we have guest out front. Each of you is going to take a table or so help me I’ll have you all busing tables for the rest of your lives.”

They looked at him in shock, they had never seen him angry before, sure he would get pissed off every once in a while. But he would never threaten them, and as far as they where concerned, he didn’t have a reason to at the moment. Finally one of them spoke up.

“Owen, we tried to wait on them but they just ignored us, what could we do?”

“Stand there until one of them sees you. Now get off your asses and get ready to take out their orders,” he growled. As they filed out of the room, Sara came in with a small smile.

“You shouldn’t be such a hard ass, Owen, they like you, don’t make them hate you.”

He turned around and looked at her, he took a deep breath and sighed. “What was I supposed to do, let them off the hook because they’re afraid of the guests? I don’t think so.”

Sara sighed and handed him a piece of paper. “You’re new schedule, don’t lose it.” She turned and walked back out of the room, Owen following after her and went straight into the kitchen. The rest of the night he spent placing pasta, bread sticks, and bottles of wine on the tables.

At the end of his shift he walked into the back room and sat down in one of the plush chairs and put his feet up on the table. He closed his eyes and listened to the sounds of the others in the building as they busied themselves with closing down. He was thankful the day was over, but he hated the way it had ended. He had to break up a fight between the Italians, and a small group of blacks that decided they wanted not only the last empty table, but every other table as well. Needless to say it had ended up in a fist fight, to which the police had been invited. Owen now sported a bloody lip, but that was the price to pay for not having your restaurant shot all to hell. Then again, since they where in gang territory it made sense that they would be attacked at least once.

He opened his eyes and put his feet on the floor, it was time for him to start his way home. He grabbed his coat from the rack and went out the back door and into the twilight filled alleyway. He walked towards the street looking around at all the people on the streets, which was odd for this time of night. He let his mind wander as he allowed his feet to carry him home.

A group of blacks gathered behind him, murmuring amongst themselves. They began to creep up on him. He felt a strong hand on his shoulder, he yelled as he was drug into a near by alleyway. They threw him to the ground and began to beat upon him. He got to his feet but was quickly down again when a wooden baseball bat connected with the back of his leg. He knew that his leg was broken by the fact that blood was soaking his pants and the fact that he wasn‘t able to move. They didn’t stop there, they kicked his ribs (surely breaking some), and a few stomped on his already broken leg. He felt tears streaming down his face, he yelled for help but he couldn’t do a thing to stop them. He called out for help, but no one came to his rescue. Suddenly they stopped, one of the bent down inches from his face.

“You’re dead, pretty boy. You’re going to regret it.” Owen could smell the alcohol on his attacker’s breath. The next thing he was aware of was a hot sticky, fluid running down his face and into his mouth. He fought to keep himself awake, but the darkness was creeping in on him, and so he surrendered.

From the darkness he heard a sweet echoing voice, he couldn’t tell what was being said, but it didn’t matter, all he wanted to do was listen to that voice. It was like the voice of an angel calling him to Heaven.

“Owen, come on, wake up. You’ve got to wake up, we’re not safe here. They’re going to come back. Owen, wake up”

He felt a soft hand on his shoulder, shaking him gently. He opened his eyes slowly, confused. A woman smiled down at him sweetly, concern etched onto her face. It was the strange but pretty woman he had seen earlier. Owen felt that he must have been seeing things, surely she couldn’t have wings. She continued to look down at him until he slipped into unconsciousness again. She looked around quickly, then gathered him up into her arms and disappeared.