smellthefunk420
Member
I have started to write a story.. note I have shitty spelling and general english. I haven't wrote for years, but did this for fun tonight. It's not even close to done, but it'd be cool to get some feedback so far. 
cheers to anyone who reads it!
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Chapter.1
Sitting across from the warm crackling fire, quickly brought me back into my less troubled childhood days. The carefree days, when absolutely nothing mattered. Oh how I wish I could live just one day back then.
The comfort and warmth of the fire had me dozing off. Seconds before I closed my eyes for good, there was a rap on the door. My heart raced, as I knew this was my only hideout. Who could of found me here? What the hell do they want? There was no where to run, absolutely no where to hide. Afterall this was a 12x15 foot cabin. My only option was presented in truth; I must answer the door.
As I squemishly pushed myself up off the floor, I slowly headed for the door. Against all discretion, I turned the knob. A very well trimmed, Italian man was standing on the other side; He introduced himself as Don Daulton. I was absolutely dumfounded when he gently shoved me out of his way, and let himself in.
Being a non-violent marijauna smuggler, I was ready to listen to his commands. This man seemed like the real deal, and I wasn't about to get shot over what he expected of me.
Without a single word, he poured himself the last shot of my aged scotch. As he sat there, sipping the drink, I built up the courage to ask him what he wanted of me. "That should be self explanitory Robert." "I'm not the only one who knows what happened, I am just the one to find you first." My heart sunk, has all of this information got out? What have I got myself into? Fear and axiety was so abundantly running through my veins, I felt like passing out.
He was obviously here for the money. Which was the exact reason I was hiding out, there was none. I had gotten in way over my head. I should of never got involved with a deal this size. I should of never associated with the mob.
I started to speak slowly; "Mr... Daulton, you see...." I knew he could spot the shakiness in my voice. I gave it another try. "You see Mr. Daulton, there was a mixup, I am greatly sorry." I knew he wouldn't take kindly to this talk, so I added; "I will have the money shortly." I barely spoke my words, when he lurched at me. He pulled a small pistol from his belt, and stuck it in my mouth. The taste of the cold metal was a testimonial to my mistakes. He leaned his head foward, and whispered "Robert, we thought you were smarter then that." "Now what are we going to do about this?" Having a barell of a gun down my throat, made it difficult to speak. I managed to choke out "I will... I will have the money."
A great pressure was relieved when he took the pistol out of my mouth. "I will have the money Mr. Daulton. You have my word."
He seemed moderatly satisfied, as he finished off the scotch, threw the glass to the floor and walked out. I collapsed to the floor in thought. How was I to find twenty-two thousand dollars? Should I run? The later option seemed like the only way out. Come morning, I shall pack my belongings and run. Run like I never have before, this time for my life.
Chapter.2
The first sight of sunlight was my sign. I grabbed my small duffle bag, which contained 2 pairs of clothes, and possibly enough marijuana to make it to the next state. Having $4 on me, I knew I must get rid of the drugs if I had any chance to fund my travels.
I sat off hitchhiking for the near town of Hillsburge. Here I would sell the remaining marijuana to an old friend Dooey Riggles. I walked no longer then 2 miles, when I was fortunate enough to be picked up. An old lady named Louis, seemed very self satisfied at helping out a stranger. She graciously drove me to my location, and wished me well on the rest of my travels.
I hadn't spoke with Dooey in over 6 months, and had my fingers crossed he was still in town. Walking up his apartment stairs, I heard the familiar sound of his parrot, Webster. I had a warm feeling that everything was going to work out. I gently knocked on his door. Against his knowledge, I heard him creeping up to the eyehole, to see who this unknown visitor was. As soon as he recognized my burley face, and unshaved beard; he whipped the door open. "Robert! Jesus, I haven't seen you for ever!" "Come in!"
Walking into his living room greeted me with the heavy potent stench of marijana smoke. Sitting on his cluttered coffee table, was a scale and bags of marijuana. I knew old Dooey was the man to go to! I did not feel comfortable letting him in on my troubles, so after some small talk; I reached for the bag of marijuana. "Dooey, I'm not getting into it, but I am in dire need of money." "This is all I have for you" Passing him the bag. He proceeded to open the bag and smell the pungent oders. "Yes, yes, I see" he responded. "Just stay here for a minute Rob" He went into a back room and closed the door behind him. Five minutes later he re-emerged yeilding a stack of bills. "This should be about right" he claimed. I personally didn't care. It was my way out of here. I apologized for not visiting for long, and said my goodbyes.
I walked downtown, not far from Dooey's apartment to the bus stop. Here I anxiously purchased a ticket to Worcester, New Hampshire. I sat quietly in the drizzling rain, awaiting my bus. What will I do after I get to New Hampshire? This was obviously not far enough away, but no doubt a first step in my journey. I have relatives in North Carolina and Georgia, but would these places provide me with sufficient coverage? Just then it popped into my head; "Canada!" - The great white north. It was perfect!
Who would find me there?
cheers to anyone who reads it!
-----------------------
Chapter.1
Sitting across from the warm crackling fire, quickly brought me back into my less troubled childhood days. The carefree days, when absolutely nothing mattered. Oh how I wish I could live just one day back then.
The comfort and warmth of the fire had me dozing off. Seconds before I closed my eyes for good, there was a rap on the door. My heart raced, as I knew this was my only hideout. Who could of found me here? What the hell do they want? There was no where to run, absolutely no where to hide. Afterall this was a 12x15 foot cabin. My only option was presented in truth; I must answer the door.
As I squemishly pushed myself up off the floor, I slowly headed for the door. Against all discretion, I turned the knob. A very well trimmed, Italian man was standing on the other side; He introduced himself as Don Daulton. I was absolutely dumfounded when he gently shoved me out of his way, and let himself in.
Being a non-violent marijauna smuggler, I was ready to listen to his commands. This man seemed like the real deal, and I wasn't about to get shot over what he expected of me.
Without a single word, he poured himself the last shot of my aged scotch. As he sat there, sipping the drink, I built up the courage to ask him what he wanted of me. "That should be self explanitory Robert." "I'm not the only one who knows what happened, I am just the one to find you first." My heart sunk, has all of this information got out? What have I got myself into? Fear and axiety was so abundantly running through my veins, I felt like passing out.
He was obviously here for the money. Which was the exact reason I was hiding out, there was none. I had gotten in way over my head. I should of never got involved with a deal this size. I should of never associated with the mob.
I started to speak slowly; "Mr... Daulton, you see...." I knew he could spot the shakiness in my voice. I gave it another try. "You see Mr. Daulton, there was a mixup, I am greatly sorry." I knew he wouldn't take kindly to this talk, so I added; "I will have the money shortly." I barely spoke my words, when he lurched at me. He pulled a small pistol from his belt, and stuck it in my mouth. The taste of the cold metal was a testimonial to my mistakes. He leaned his head foward, and whispered "Robert, we thought you were smarter then that." "Now what are we going to do about this?" Having a barell of a gun down my throat, made it difficult to speak. I managed to choke out "I will... I will have the money."
A great pressure was relieved when he took the pistol out of my mouth. "I will have the money Mr. Daulton. You have my word."
He seemed moderatly satisfied, as he finished off the scotch, threw the glass to the floor and walked out. I collapsed to the floor in thought. How was I to find twenty-two thousand dollars? Should I run? The later option seemed like the only way out. Come morning, I shall pack my belongings and run. Run like I never have before, this time for my life.
Chapter.2
The first sight of sunlight was my sign. I grabbed my small duffle bag, which contained 2 pairs of clothes, and possibly enough marijuana to make it to the next state. Having $4 on me, I knew I must get rid of the drugs if I had any chance to fund my travels.
I sat off hitchhiking for the near town of Hillsburge. Here I would sell the remaining marijuana to an old friend Dooey Riggles. I walked no longer then 2 miles, when I was fortunate enough to be picked up. An old lady named Louis, seemed very self satisfied at helping out a stranger. She graciously drove me to my location, and wished me well on the rest of my travels.
I hadn't spoke with Dooey in over 6 months, and had my fingers crossed he was still in town. Walking up his apartment stairs, I heard the familiar sound of his parrot, Webster. I had a warm feeling that everything was going to work out. I gently knocked on his door. Against his knowledge, I heard him creeping up to the eyehole, to see who this unknown visitor was. As soon as he recognized my burley face, and unshaved beard; he whipped the door open. "Robert! Jesus, I haven't seen you for ever!" "Come in!"
Walking into his living room greeted me with the heavy potent stench of marijana smoke. Sitting on his cluttered coffee table, was a scale and bags of marijuana. I knew old Dooey was the man to go to! I did not feel comfortable letting him in on my troubles, so after some small talk; I reached for the bag of marijuana. "Dooey, I'm not getting into it, but I am in dire need of money." "This is all I have for you" Passing him the bag. He proceeded to open the bag and smell the pungent oders. "Yes, yes, I see" he responded. "Just stay here for a minute Rob" He went into a back room and closed the door behind him. Five minutes later he re-emerged yeilding a stack of bills. "This should be about right" he claimed. I personally didn't care. It was my way out of here. I apologized for not visiting for long, and said my goodbyes.
I walked downtown, not far from Dooey's apartment to the bus stop. Here I anxiously purchased a ticket to Worcester, New Hampshire. I sat quietly in the drizzling rain, awaiting my bus. What will I do after I get to New Hampshire? This was obviously not far enough away, but no doubt a first step in my journey. I have relatives in North Carolina and Georgia, but would these places provide me with sufficient coverage? Just then it popped into my head; "Canada!" - The great white north. It was perfect!
Who would find me there?
