It looks like you're using an Ad Blocker.

Please white-list or disable in your ad-blocking tool.

Thank you.


Some features of ATS will be disabled while you continue to use an ad-blocker.


3 Names I Refuse to Go By

page: 1

log in


posted on Nov, 18 2004 @ 05:55 PM
The sheets stuck to my thighs and I had left a pool of drool on his pillow. My arms lay out to either side of me as my body wa spinned into the matress. He was dead asleep and I felt a little cruxified.

"Tommy...Tommy...hey, wake up doofus, I can't breathe."

When he did not stir I graced his arm and gave hima little shove. His fair skin was cold to the touch, as if his soul went out for breakfast, leaving me to suffer under his physique.

After a while I desperately had to piss, so I used all of my fleeting energy to heave him off of me. The force sent us both tumbling onto the wooden floor, but it was so covered in clothes and magazines you'd never know it was pure mahogany.

He grunted as I quickly wrapped the sheets around me, it was too cold here in October. When I came back he was still snoring.

They never teach you about Lillith in Sunday School, it would be too much of a blow to the male ego, even though a blow is all they think they need. But they love to remind us that Eve convinced Dama to eat the apple. Stupid women, we f***** over mankind.

Digging through the dresser I pulled on a pair of boxers and a t-shirt with some intimidating school mascot pictured on it. Go Sandcrabs. Rubbing the sleep bogies out of my eyes, I noticed the clock.

2:30 pm, the mail should have arrived by then. I walked out of our room and headed down the cement and iron stairs, fumbling though the bundle of keyes in my pocket. My mailbox was labeled "Liddell," I grasped the key labeled "Martin."

The Martins were a modest family of four, the All-America status quo. The mother was hooked on pain killers, the father drank too much, the son grew pot in his bedroom, and the daughter subscribed to Seventeen- bougouise in a nutshell.

Though some call me a thief, I consider myself a charity worker. The Martin girls hadn't recieved her Seventeen magazine in 8 months. I didn't bother to check my own mail.

I'll probbaly be posting about 5 different stories witht his same title- I had a vision to write a novel with this title, but I don't know what its about yet. I have a slight idea.....

[edit on 11-18-04 by Scat]

posted on Nov, 28 2004 @ 02:15 PM
That short was very interesting lol. I can't wait to read more. Now I feel somewhat rivited. Is this a work of fiction or does it eventually have some kind of horror plot to it? Just curious.

new topics

log in