Bourbon Street
6:45pm
Willy shook, slowly letting the nightmare fade; It never totally disappeared these days. Willy snuck a peak around him unobtrusively. Their eyes could be anywhere.
My nightmares getting worse, my back and leg aching more and more. It's almost time. he thinks to himself. He looks down at the bottle in one hand and the dirt in the other. He vaguely remembered the booze. He had only recently begun to drink, to rid himself of the nightmares and hope for a real sleep. Normally, he wanted his sense sharp in case THEY came. With the pain and the dreams, however, he finally wanted some peace. Willy almost sobbed. It hadn't worked, obviously. He tossed the bottle to the side, and curiously looked at his other hand.
Dirt?
He looked around for a source of dirt nearby. He couldn't remember grabbing any before he fell asleep. After a moment, shrugging, Willy shoves the dirt into his coat pocket. Perhaps it means something. With an almost audible groan, Willy used his cane and forced himself first into a sitting position, then to standing. His back felt like red-hot needles were poking into it, and his leg throbbed and felt like a lead weight. He gasped almost audibly as he stood, and had to stand still, braced against the wall, for a few minutes to allow his swimming vision to steady and the pain to fade.
Once steadied, Willy looked around and saw the police cruisers a short distance away.
Anything is better than thinking about the dreams right now he tells himself, and hobbles his way towards the flashing lights of the police.
6:45pm
Willy shook, slowly letting the nightmare fade; It never totally disappeared these days. Willy snuck a peak around him unobtrusively. Their eyes could be anywhere.
My nightmares getting worse, my back and leg aching more and more. It's almost time. he thinks to himself. He looks down at the bottle in one hand and the dirt in the other. He vaguely remembered the booze. He had only recently begun to drink, to rid himself of the nightmares and hope for a real sleep. Normally, he wanted his sense sharp in case THEY came. With the pain and the dreams, however, he finally wanted some peace. Willy almost sobbed. It hadn't worked, obviously. He tossed the bottle to the side, and curiously looked at his other hand.
Dirt?
He looked around for a source of dirt nearby. He couldn't remember grabbing any before he fell asleep. After a moment, shrugging, Willy shoves the dirt into his coat pocket. Perhaps it means something. With an almost audible groan, Willy used his cane and forced himself first into a sitting position, then to standing. His back felt like red-hot needles were poking into it, and his leg throbbed and felt like a lead weight. He gasped almost audibly as he stood, and had to stand still, braced against the wall, for a few minutes to allow his swimming vision to steady and the pain to fade.
Once steadied, Willy looked around and saw the police cruisers a short distance away.
Anything is better than thinking about the dreams right now he tells himself, and hobbles his way towards the flashing lights of the police.
