Post by Will on Dec 28, 2011 9:45:56 GMT -6
A growlithe wondered the small grassy clearings of the park. A cool winter breeze blowing across the sea of grass blades, ruffling his fur. Will's silver eyes flickering warily across the field, he needed to be alone for awhile. He ran across the fields of grass, skidding to a stop beside a lone oak. He eyed it cautious if anyone occupied it, then bounded up the trunk, claws raking bark away from the slender body of the trunk. Will came to rest on a thick branch, still searching below and above for any other prescences. He pulled out a small box with a flame insignia on the lock, opening the box, inside was a small pile of silver powder. The same one that ruined his life, the one he couldn't escape from, even if he tried to come off it, he would die quickly. But he would die anyways for taking the stuff. It hurt Will to hear other people say he was weak because of it, They wouldn't understand! he thought.
Rolling the silver substance into a small tubular space, lifting it to his mouth, pouring the drug into his mouth. As sweet as the taste was, it tasted like poison to him. The opium was what changed his eye color from a midnight blue to a steel silver. This was why he was always alone. Will didn't want anyone to be hurt because of his own faults. So he was a loner and being park cartaker was a perfect job for him. And he was happy, or was he?
His ears perked as the sound of a stick snapping reached his hearing range. He snapped to attention, his grey eyes wide with caution. His eyes swiftly grazed the grassy clearing below him, searching for the source of the noise.
Rolling the silver substance into a small tubular space, lifting it to his mouth, pouring the drug into his mouth. As sweet as the taste was, it tasted like poison to him. The opium was what changed his eye color from a midnight blue to a steel silver. This was why he was always alone. Will didn't want anyone to be hurt because of his own faults. So he was a loner and being park cartaker was a perfect job for him. And he was happy, or was he?
His ears perked as the sound of a stick snapping reached his hearing range. He snapped to attention, his grey eyes wide with caution. His eyes swiftly grazed the grassy clearing below him, searching for the source of the noise.
