Post #2353365 in Never Too Late, a roleplay on RPG

Snippet #2353365

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Old Town

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#2013-04-11 03:30:59, as written by Deer

Kerli sat in the leather chair, the plaid blanket laying ornately over her lap. A cat lounged near the fire brimming with ash and the gaseous flames of red hues. Her mother had recently opened the door, arriving with groceries which now stay placid in the fridge, becoming cool and prepared for the evening's dinner. She looked towards the kitchen, as if expectant of some unknown presence to come striding through the arched doorway. Wooden floorboards. Silver fridge. Silver stove. Marble counter-tops. What a modern household, derived from the latest modern catalogs for the people of most modern class. The glass table sit in the midst of the cramped room, a transparent vase reflecting the colored water, with plastic primroses blooming precisely, angled near the window which mirrored the sunlight rising above the horizon. A star yellowed amongst the graying sky. The tickets sit on the table, near the vase. She sat upwards, the blanket spilling at her ankles.

Her fingers touched the edges of the tickets, feeling the thin paper, colored a light blue with text horizontally lined amongst the center. Numbers. Letters. They all intermingled together into a stream of dizzying information, so uninformative yet such an important role in the production of transportation. Just more damn money to become pocketed into the government, to be spoken about on the social media, and to be craved by the greedy watchers. It was a cycle that was the basic role of the economy. The government gets all the damn currency, another source of intended communism, and then the social media speaks about it because they believe that they are knowing of everything, and then the watchers sit at the edge of their seat licking their greased fingers over their chicken dinner. Kerli sat down and stared at the tickets. Ireland. It was a place she never thought she'd shamble off to in her lifetime. She was expectant of traveling to Canada or California, but never Ireland with the red hair and the kilts with their hairy legs flaring in the cooling breeze.

Kerli stood upwards and walked towards the stove. She observed the metal pot, the water lining the rim. The bubbles surfacing as the heat circulated throughout the pot. Bubbles. Heat. Water. Kerli turned off the stove and ran up the stairs. She wasn't hungry anyway. She plastered herself to her bed, staring up at the ceiling. Cracks in the walls from the aged paint. Bumps in the walls from too much sloppy painting. Holes in the walls from too much thumbtacks for posters of music artists who eventually became unknown to history. She looked at her phone, which buzzed with a hurried anticipation. Her flight would take off in three hours. Time to take an unending drive down the bending road to the airport, where she would lounge in the plastic chairs and await the announcer with the petty voice to come amongst the P.E. and state that Flight 3501 would be prepared to take off. She would fall asleep for a few minutes, before awakening in remembrance of the songs reverberating through her ear drums.

Snippet #2353365

located in Old Town, a part of Never Too Late, one of the many universes on RPG.

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