Fortune and Juice (stare)
Jun 25, 2011 22:35:20 GMT -5
Post by inFamousL on Jun 25, 2011 22:35:20 GMT -5
Hercules "Herc" Maestro:
Living like a street rat for half of his life, the young man who had all the opportunities, was rifling through the trash. Trying to find himself some dinner, his main focus was. He hadn't had breakfast or lunch, nor a proper meal in years. His main food has been bread and anything that gets thrown at him. Hercules, the intrepid hero here, could find nothing in the small dumpster that he had been living near for almost three months. His cardboard box sat next to it, looking disgusting and very unsatisfying to the normal person's eye. To Hercules, however, it was home. His nose was already used to the smell of garbage and sweat. His clothes, which were becoming too big for him already, felt like they were dragging him down into the ground. He wanted to take them off, but he was afraid that he may not have the strength to put it back on. His weakened body continued to tell his left arm to push back any sort of garbage. His head felt like it was going to explode as it tried to force his arm to move. He couldn't find anything, and his stomach was beginning to growl even louder. His dinner wasn't coming for him. Nobody was passing by the alley and he couldn't ask anybody for anything without somebody to actually be there. Finally, he gave into the fact that there was no spare food in the garbage. He rolled onto his back, his grimy hair falling on his face. His chest moved up and down as he panted from the energy drain the search had done to him. He sat up and breathed heavily, looking out at the dirty streets of the place. He smiled as he continued his heavy breathing. It looked a little awkward though, but he managed. His brain was beginning to turn its weals. Hell, he thought, it could be worse he crawled towards his little box and sat inside of it. Trying to shelter himself from the beating sun. He was beginning to have a sunburn from all of that exposure to the red and yellow hot star that powered the Earth.
He stretched out his legs rather than just hugging them. He couldn't stand it at all under his shirt. The heat was too much for him. He took his thin arms and pulled off the shirt from his back. His naked torso showed with scars and bruises from attacks and just scraping against the ground. His shirt, with all of its dirt and grime, lay flat on the ground and began to cook in the sun. Hercules had forgotten what he looked like under the shirt itself. He chuckled a little as he checked himself out. His ribs were showing even more than they should have and his back, as he could feel, had many fresh scars from fights and any other scuffle that he may have gotten himself into. He sat with his back against the inside of the cardboard. It slid a little until it hit the back of the wall on the other side. He now lay flat under the cooking temperatures sun. He quickly grabbed his shirt and hid under the shade of the dumpster and the box that he just put over his head. It was hot on the inside, but not as hot as it was on the outside. He felt sweat falling off of his body and trickling down his chest. He was feeling very dizzy from the heat. He took off the box and tossed it far, much too far. He lay there, under the dumpster and in the shade. Tired and sweaty, Hercules decided to see once again if there was food anywhere else. He stood up and grabbed his shirt. He dragged it onto the ground as he slowly walked, slouching as if the end of his world had come, and began to walk out of the alley. His legs could barely hold him as the dragged onward and even then he was slow. Hercules came into a more populated area of the masses. As he walked out into the sun, people began to stare. He could hear people making comments about his body, what had happened to it, what is going on?
He could recognize some people, like the person with the hood in the corner, he had given him some food last month. Or the girl with the dress, she had given him water a few weeks back. He could still remember some of these faces, he was amazed with himself already. Maybe that was just because he rarely found something to be amazed with. He gripped the wall to the left to stabilize himself as he stumbled over himself. He looked that eh people walking around and the people staring. He saw a young child as his mother what happened to him. He smiled at the little boy and gave a little wave. He began to ask some people for some food or spare change for the market. He held out his hand, trying to get anything from anybody. He tried to put on the saddest face he could find, but even then it wasn't enough. Nobody was giving anything. Except for the young little boy, with the red poof hat. The young lad who Hercules had waved to rand to him and gave him half a loaf of bread before returning to his mother. Hercules took only one look at it before beginning to devour it. The bread was fresh, something he hadn't tasted in so long. He had eaten half of it before stopping to try to savor it. He took the slowest bite he could manage. The taste was like nothing he had ever experienced before. The flavor danced on his tongue and hugged his senses with the love of taste. His face began to have a little color from the food as he ate, his stomach demanding he eat more. He looked around him, more people walking around. He held out his shaky hand at one person and asked:
"Spare change?"
He stretched out his legs rather than just hugging them. He couldn't stand it at all under his shirt. The heat was too much for him. He took his thin arms and pulled off the shirt from his back. His naked torso showed with scars and bruises from attacks and just scraping against the ground. His shirt, with all of its dirt and grime, lay flat on the ground and began to cook in the sun. Hercules had forgotten what he looked like under the shirt itself. He chuckled a little as he checked himself out. His ribs were showing even more than they should have and his back, as he could feel, had many fresh scars from fights and any other scuffle that he may have gotten himself into. He sat with his back against the inside of the cardboard. It slid a little until it hit the back of the wall on the other side. He now lay flat under the cooking temperatures sun. He quickly grabbed his shirt and hid under the shade of the dumpster and the box that he just put over his head. It was hot on the inside, but not as hot as it was on the outside. He felt sweat falling off of his body and trickling down his chest. He was feeling very dizzy from the heat. He took off the box and tossed it far, much too far. He lay there, under the dumpster and in the shade. Tired and sweaty, Hercules decided to see once again if there was food anywhere else. He stood up and grabbed his shirt. He dragged it onto the ground as he slowly walked, slouching as if the end of his world had come, and began to walk out of the alley. His legs could barely hold him as the dragged onward and even then he was slow. Hercules came into a more populated area of the masses. As he walked out into the sun, people began to stare. He could hear people making comments about his body, what had happened to it, what is going on?
He could recognize some people, like the person with the hood in the corner, he had given him some food last month. Or the girl with the dress, she had given him water a few weeks back. He could still remember some of these faces, he was amazed with himself already. Maybe that was just because he rarely found something to be amazed with. He gripped the wall to the left to stabilize himself as he stumbled over himself. He looked that eh people walking around and the people staring. He saw a young child as his mother what happened to him. He smiled at the little boy and gave a little wave. He began to ask some people for some food or spare change for the market. He held out his hand, trying to get anything from anybody. He tried to put on the saddest face he could find, but even then it wasn't enough. Nobody was giving anything. Except for the young little boy, with the red poof hat. The young lad who Hercules had waved to rand to him and gave him half a loaf of bread before returning to his mother. Hercules took only one look at it before beginning to devour it. The bread was fresh, something he hadn't tasted in so long. He had eaten half of it before stopping to try to savor it. He took the slowest bite he could manage. The taste was like nothing he had ever experienced before. The flavor danced on his tongue and hugged his senses with the love of taste. His face began to have a little color from the food as he ate, his stomach demanding he eat more. He looked around him, more people walking around. He held out his shaky hand at one person and asked:
"Spare change?"
))
