started writing another story... lemme know what you think if u read it
Towering skeletons of factories and warehouses long past their prime loom under a charcoal sky. Cracks of lightening surge between indistinguishable clouds, illuminating side streets and alleyways in transient bursts of hot, violet brilliance. Mechanical vultures perched atop abandoned billboards continuously readjust their beady, red eyes to scan for any shred of carrion still fit for consumption. One such scavenger adjusted its gaze down Alleyway 303, a thin strip of broken concrete no more than six feet at its widest, in the foreground of an oddly-glowing stream, reeking of sulfur and ammonia. The source of this waste is a trio of corrugated steel pipes, blackened from years of corrosive rains and splotched with reddish-brown blooms of rust, protruding almost quill-like out of a building. A bright neon sign encompassing the entire side of the building labeled it as “Syntech Industries”. Below the 't' in the word 'Industries' is a door, rusted and dented, hidden in the shadows of the ultra-bright neon. The heavy, steel door creaked open on ungreased hinges and two figures could be seen leaving.
“I'm tellin' you friend, it'll be worth your while!” The man on the right exclaimed to the man on the left. Another crack of lightening illuminated the talking man's knarled face, unkempt hair, and yellowed teeth. “Just pass me a couple gems to cover for the evening.” His rancid breath of tooth decay and stale beer barely mashed the musk that seemed to emanate from his body.
“Fine. But tonight is the last time.”
“Thanks man! I knew I could count on you! You won't regret it!” The man on the left reaches into his pocket and deposited several shards of metal into the other man's open, waiting hands. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” The man yells back as he sprinted out of the alleyway before the other man could change his mind.
CRACK! The man left standing in the alleyway was slightly more composed. His hair wild and unbehaving; hands think and fleshy, swollen from countless hours of manual labor. Again he reaches into his pocket and retrieves a cigarette and lighter from hits plethora of contents. In one smooth, practiced motion he rests his smoke between his dry, chapped lips and sparks it without hesitation. A sigh heaves from his tired lungs as he wanders out of the alleyway. CRACK! He narrowly avoids a dead cat as the latest strike of lightening had so conveniently pointed out. He turned right out of the alleyway and the vultures descended upon the expired feline and within moments, there was nothing left of the cat but bits of fur and skin. It would seem like the vultures would show mercy to the rats today.