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Post by travis on May 9, 2011 15:02:38 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,padding-left:16px; padding-top:0px; padding-right:0px; padding-bottom:0px; background-image:url(http://i51.tinypic.com/2nbr3oi.jpg) ] I see a distant light, Such a surreal place to see so how did this come to be, Arrived too early. And when I think of all the places I just don't belong, I've come to grips with life and realize this is going too far. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Getting up that morning, well one p.m. but still morning for the twenty three year old, Travis had no idea what he was going to do that day. The day before he had hung out with his friends all day, he missed them. Sure, he got to hang out with three out of five of them almost constantly, but since Gabe moved, who was the one he felt closest to, it just wasn't the same. He had no one to just tackle out of no where, no one to just pick up and go out drinking with when he had problems with Lisa, and no one who he felt he could talk about Jackson with. Nate and Damien were great guys and Travis loved them to death, but neither of them he felt comfortable enough around to talk about their deceased friend with, After the group decided to move where Gabe lived, though, Travis knew things would get better. Just, now Gabe barely wanted to talk about Jackson at all, so Travis just remained quiet.
With a sigh, he grabbed his clothes that he figured he'd wear today and slipped them on and moves to fix his hair in the mirror of his room. Moving to sit down back on his bed, he slipped his shoes on and stood up looking out the window of his room in the apartment above Gabe's tattoo parlor. There was one place that he hadn't been in town yet, though, and that was the beach. Grabbing the case his acoustic guitar was in and made his way downstairs to the parlor and grabbed his keys from his desk. He didn't feel like helping out with Gabe today with tattoos, and it wasn't like he was paid or anything he just liked working there. It gave him a sense of being needed for something more. He loved tattooing people, putting something permanent on their skin it was almost as if they kept a part of him constantly.
Getting to his car, he put the guitar case in his back seat and drove to the beach. Upon arriving, he parked and got out running his fingers along the guitar case before gripping the handle lifting it out of the car and cracked his neck. He wasn't in the mood to swim, or even get wet, so he just decided to wear regular clothes. Travis just loved the relaxed and serene feeling sitting on the beach gave him. To top it all off, though, he knew he could get to play his guitar with such a beautiful backdrop, it just got him stoked to be living here now.
Walking down the steps to get on the sand, he walked down the beach looking for a good place hat was far enough away from people so he wouldn't bother them, but close enough so that he'd be able to feel their presence and wouldn't feel lonely. Sitting down at what he found to be the perfect spot, he smiled looking around and sat his guitar case next to him. Removing the laches, he took out his acoustic that he's had for years and moved the strap around his neck and shoulders moving his fingers up and down the strings. This guitar got him through some bad days, when he knew he couldn't talk to his friends about things he just sat down and played until he practically collapsed over the guitar and slept. It was his life, the only constant thing he seemed to have in his life.
Deciding to strum along to a tune that he wrote, he closed his eyes letting the warm breeze trace over his skin and just enjoyed the moment. Letting his eyes slip back open he looked out at the water with a calm, soft smile. He really did like it here, amazing scenery, his group back together, and the man loved meeting new people. He really hadn't met many new people since he moved here but the people he gave tattoos to, but he wanted to change that very soon. He figured he'd go to the bar tonight and just have fun talking to and enjoying the company of new people. Of course, all of this would be after his beach time. Letting his eyes fall back closed, Travis let himself get lost in the tune he was playing and almost completely lost track of the real world. |
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Post by AINSLEY MARIAH HARRIS on May 10, 2011 14:46:15 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, border-radius: 2em; -moz-border-radius: 2em; background-image:url(http://i54.tinypic.com/14e9a45.jpg), width: 400px; height: 400px;] You're guaranteed to run this town
Woah, Mona Lisa, I'd pay to see you frown He senses something, call it desperation Another dollar, another day And if she had the proper words to say, ( She would tell him But she'd have nothing left to sell him ---------------- ! ) Not unusually, Ainsley had no clue how she had gotten to the beach. Not by car, as she didn't appear to have her keys, and certainly not with a friend's help, as that friend would have stayed with her, no matter what state they were also in. The past two hours had been a blur for Ainsley, and she was still unsteady, though the odd oscillations between consciousness and unconsciousness had stopped. Or they had appeared to, anyway. That was the thing about k2; you never really knew what to expect. Sometimes you remembered everything and sometimes it was like you hadn't existed. That was how it was for Ainsley, though the fact that she was also on marijuana probably contributed to her loss of ability to remember the past couple hours. She'd been sitting in the woods, feeling like she was underwater and then what? The beach. Ainsley had made it to the beach, though she didn't look like she belonged at all. She wasn't wearing a bathing suit and her black DCs hardly passed for flip flops. Her blue tangles were tied back in a messy ponytail with her bangs clipped away with bobby pins.
What time is it? she thought blurrily and a sensation of déja vü tickled at the back of her brain, making her wonder just how many times she'd asked that question in the hours she'd been wandering around Casper. Ainsley glanced at her watch, saw that only a minute had passed since she'd last checked, and flopped down on the sand. It occurred to her to check her phone, to see whom she'd texted or called, but in all honesty, she was nervous of what she would find. Instead, Ainsley leaned back in the sand and lit a cigarette. Within seconds of her first drag on it, though, Ainsley felt nauseous and quickly put out the cigarette on a nearby rock before standing up and pocketing the disgusting thing. She wasn't one to litter and throwing smoldering bits of tar onto a beach where children played was one of those things that Ainsley would never do.
Maybe walking would make her come to her sense.
It wasn't that Ainsley was desperate to know where she'd been or what she'd done, as she'd been in a situation of not knowing those things far too many times for it to bother her, but she did need to regain her ability to function before she went home to her dad.
At first, Ainsley thought she was hallucinating it. The guitar, that is. It wasn't often that you heard live guitar on a beach. Her next thought, of course, was that it wasn't live guitar, merely the radio. However, the sound was too raw and personal to be something that was crawling from speakers. It must have been real, and Ainsley was curious. It didn't take long for Ainsley to find the source of the guitar: a boy--a man, really--who must have been out of high school judging by the looks of him. "That's pretty," she stated, unaware of the fact that she might be interrupting something. However, in her opinion, when someone was as good as this man was at guitar, they deserved to know it and how was Ainsley to be sure whether the man knew it or not? She tugged on the sleeves of her black hoodie restlessly. It didn't seem to occur to her that it might be strange to be receiving a compliment from a tangly-haired girl dressed in boy's clothes. It rarely occurred to her when she spoke to strangers what they might think of her, though the strangers always seemed surprised and taken aback. Ainsley didn't pass for normal by anyone's definition with her Icee blue hair and bitten down nails but that didn't matter to Ainsley. She was comfortable looking like a rather well-dressed homeless person, though she was sure her mother would have hidden her head in shame. It didn't really matter what Ainsley's mother would have thought about her daughter, however, since Ainsley's mother wasn't even around in the first place. If she'd made herself present throughout her daughter's life, maybe it would have been different, but as it stood...
"Why are you playing on the beach?" Curiosity bubbled up between Ainsley's lips before she could stop it, though she hadn't put forth a real effort to stop it anyway. It was just a question, really. Intrusiveness had nothing to do with it.
♥ ♥ ♥ template by hay shay ! @ caution 2.0. LYRICS BY PANIC AT THE DISCO. WORD COUNT - 747 WORDS. WEARING THIS |
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