A Long Kiss Good Night, chapter 1
...they kissed again. Blood was on his knife again. In a dark alley...
***
The Denial. That was what their gang was called. They denied The Mortal Moral Majority, The Authority, popular musical tastes; sometimes even their own values. They were all truly The Denial.
'No' was their favorite word.
Their favorite phrase? 'Fuck no'...figures.
***
The couple broke apart. The Denial was well known for wearing black and red all the time, but the girl with which The Denial Leader had been kissing had just famously broken tradition by wearing pink and purple.
Her large gray eyes bored into his, a little sad, but nevertheless still full of wise authority. She had just got pushed away from her rightful place as The Denial's Female Leader a few hours ago. Everytime that a new member passed the test to enter The Denial, they got to be Leader for a while. Always a short while. And one of the true leaders was always still there, as a Leader, to ensure chaos did not break out.
He pulled her close again, giving her another kiss. She passionately joined in, but then roughly pushed him away, punched his shoulder, straightened her tie, and put her cloak on. She was wearing a very short pink skirt with even shorter shorts underneath, to guarantee her privacy. Long chains dragged far below her skirt, slightly past her knees. She also had a spiked collar on. Her purple shirt's buttons were not working properly, but they were secured by a green-and-yellow tie. Her hair was long and spiked up with a lot of stolen gel.
She grinned at him and winked as she leapt with enormous strength, right into a tall roof. He barely saw the hem of her cloak as she disappeared into the dark.
"Good night, Jessica," he whispered.
His blue eyes that changed shade (at night they were dark blue, almost, but not quite to be mistaken for, black, and during the day, the cutest shade of baby blue imaginable, which gave him the nickname of 'angel face'.) watched her go. His black hair was spiked up similar to hers. He wore loose black jeans with authentic blood stains on them and a gray shirt and the upper half of a black suit. He also had three black necklaces with varying types of spikes. Chains from them fell onto his back.
The blood on his trusty dagger was from a rival gang. He hadn't killed; he usually didn't kill if he could help it. He had simply threatened someone that he had happened to catch making fun of The Denial and given them a... ..painful lesson. He gazed at the sky, twirling his knife idly in his hand.
At that moment, there was a menacing and loud footstep behind him. A shadow fell over the dagger. Some 'one' held his right shoulder (the one whose arm was NOT holding the dagger) very hard, with extremely sharp 'nails'. A putrid, stale breath reached his nose. The 'person's' other hand went to the knife. He tried to take it from him, chuckling. Whispering the man's name. "Jimmy. Missing Jessica already. Turn to face me. You're scared." A drop of sweat fell down Saint Jimmy's face as the 'person's' breath fell on his face.
The 'person's' tongue rested on his neck momentarily before withdrawing as the 'person' said, "I know you are." (scared, remember?) "I know everything."
***
The Denial. That was what their gang was called. They denied The Mortal Moral Majority, The Authority, popular musical tastes; sometimes even their own values. They were all truly The Denial.
'No' was their favorite word.
Their favorite phrase? 'Fuck no'...figures.
***
The couple broke apart. The Denial was well known for wearing black and red all the time, but the girl with which The Denial Leader had been kissing had just famously broken tradition by wearing pink and purple.
Her large gray eyes bored into his, a little sad, but nevertheless still full of wise authority. She had just got pushed away from her rightful place as The Denial's Female Leader a few hours ago. Everytime that a new member passed the test to enter The Denial, they got to be Leader for a while. Always a short while. And one of the true leaders was always still there, as a Leader, to ensure chaos did not break out.
He pulled her close again, giving her another kiss. She passionately joined in, but then roughly pushed him away, punched his shoulder, straightened her tie, and put her cloak on. She was wearing a very short pink skirt with even shorter shorts underneath, to guarantee her privacy. Long chains dragged far below her skirt, slightly past her knees. She also had a spiked collar on. Her purple shirt's buttons were not working properly, but they were secured by a green-and-yellow tie. Her hair was long and spiked up with a lot of stolen gel.
She grinned at him and winked as she leapt with enormous strength, right into a tall roof. He barely saw the hem of her cloak as she disappeared into the dark.
"Good night, Jessica," he whispered.
His blue eyes that changed shade (at night they were dark blue, almost, but not quite to be mistaken for, black, and during the day, the cutest shade of baby blue imaginable, which gave him the nickname of 'angel face'.) watched her go. His black hair was spiked up similar to hers. He wore loose black jeans with authentic blood stains on them and a gray shirt and the upper half of a black suit. He also had three black necklaces with varying types of spikes. Chains from them fell onto his back.
The blood on his trusty dagger was from a rival gang. He hadn't killed; he usually didn't kill if he could help it. He had simply threatened someone that he had happened to catch making fun of The Denial and given them a... ..painful lesson. He gazed at the sky, twirling his knife idly in his hand.
At that moment, there was a menacing and loud footstep behind him. A shadow fell over the dagger. Some 'one' held his right shoulder (the one whose arm was NOT holding the dagger) very hard, with extremely sharp 'nails'. A putrid, stale breath reached his nose. The 'person's' other hand went to the knife. He tried to take it from him, chuckling. Whispering the man's name. "Jimmy. Missing Jessica already. Turn to face me. You're scared." A drop of sweat fell down Saint Jimmy's face as the 'person's' breath fell on his face.
The 'person's' tongue rested on his neck momentarily before withdrawing as the 'person' said, "I know you are." (scared, remember?) "I know everything."
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