![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
The red of the red rose...
All right, the NICE post. I wrote last night *dances* Yep, started the original fic. thing. Wrote it within the space of the first six tracks on 1. Outside. Actually, I wrote two inroductions. That's why I'm posting. I want to know which one you guys like better, since the first one will set the POV for the whole story. I really have no preference.
Intro 1
It’s a very strange thing. How people of the underworld, pimps and whores and drug dealers, how they can both scare and intoxicate us. We want to run towards and away from them at the same time. Most people, however, choose the latter response. Mothers caution their children to stay away from the haunts of these people. No ‘good’ boy or girl goes there for fear of guilt by association. Panic attacks come when cars break down in these streets from the fear of these ‘monsters’ lunging.
Eve was one of these monsters. What a pretty monster she was. Gorgeous long auburn hair. Sparkling blue eyes. Creamy, smooth white skin. Full lips, mother of pearl teeth.
An intelligent monster too. She could quote Shakespeare a split second after being asked. Witty remarks rolled off her tongue without a thought. She was gentle, kid, sweet, considerate. On the outside she was that girl every woman envied and every man wanted.
That is until you followed her home one night. When you learned that she didn’t wait tables. She danced on them.
So by her freshmen year of college, she was a bit of a pariah. No woman, unless she wanted to be labeled a whore, came within ten feet of her. No man spoke to her, afraid their girlfriends would think them players.
However, there are those few people in this world who are not afraid of the people who are forced to make their livings in the gutter. Those who understand that these people are only doing what they have to do to get by.
Then there are the few truly charitable among us. The angels, the self sacrificing saints, who take it upon themselves to clean up these poor souls so their true selves shine through. Those who give up everything they have to get these unfortunate people out of their terrible situations.
Vincent was one of these people.
Intro 2
It’s a bit frightening. How some people, people who society tells you are dirty and wrong and sinful, can draw you in without you realizing it. It’s only after it’s all over when you’re alone with your thoughts that you can actually reflect on what happened and you wonder if you really could have made all those ‘right’ choices everyone said that you should.
Everyone told me about the kind of person Eve was. I heard jokes thrown about her by some of my friends. Some people went so far as saying she was a drug user, that she had a multitude of terrible diseases and that there were illegitimate children hidden somewhere.
Any sensible person would have turned his back on her.
But I just couldn’t. Maybe it was because she was beautiful. Not in the flashy, gaudy way some working girls are. Classy, sophisticated beauty. Or maybe it was because behind all that she was smart. God she was smart.
However I tend to think that I might have gotten by without chasing after her, I might have never fallen so hard and fast, if she hadn’t walked in to my English class that day.
Late, which was unusual for her.
Looking harried, broken.
Dark red hair stuck to her face, eyes red.
With that bruise on her face.
It’s a very strange thing. How people of the underworld, pimps and whores and drug dealers, how they can both scare and intoxicate us. We want to run towards and away from them at the same time. Most people, however, choose the latter response. Mothers caution their children to stay away from the haunts of these people. No ‘good’ boy or girl goes there for fear of guilt by association. Panic attacks come when cars break down in these streets from the fear of these ‘monsters’ lunging.
Eve was one of these monsters. What a pretty monster she was. Gorgeous long auburn hair. Sparkling blue eyes. Creamy, smooth white skin. Full lips, mother of pearl teeth.
An intelligent monster too. She could quote Shakespeare a split second after being asked. Witty remarks rolled off her tongue without a thought. She was gentle, kid, sweet, considerate. On the outside she was that girl every woman envied and every man wanted.
That is until you followed her home one night. When you learned that she didn’t wait tables. She danced on them.
So by her freshmen year of college, she was a bit of a pariah. No woman, unless she wanted to be labeled a whore, came within ten feet of her. No man spoke to her, afraid their girlfriends would think them players.
However, there are those few people in this world who are not afraid of the people who are forced to make their livings in the gutter. Those who understand that these people are only doing what they have to do to get by.
Then there are the few truly charitable among us. The angels, the self sacrificing saints, who take it upon themselves to clean up these poor souls so their true selves shine through. Those who give up everything they have to get these unfortunate people out of their terrible situations.
Vincent was one of these people.
It’s a bit frightening. How some people, people who society tells you are dirty and wrong and sinful, can draw you in without you realizing it. It’s only after it’s all over when you’re alone with your thoughts that you can actually reflect on what happened and you wonder if you really could have made all those ‘right’ choices everyone said that you should.
Everyone told me about the kind of person Eve was. I heard jokes thrown about her by some of my friends. Some people went so far as saying she was a drug user, that she had a multitude of terrible diseases and that there were illegitimate children hidden somewhere.
Any sensible person would have turned his back on her.
But I just couldn’t. Maybe it was because she was beautiful. Not in the flashy, gaudy way some working girls are. Classy, sophisticated beauty. Or maybe it was because behind all that she was smart. God she was smart.
However I tend to think that I might have gotten by without chasing after her, I might have never fallen so hard and fast, if she hadn’t walked in to my English class that day.
Late, which was unusual for her.
Looking harried, broken.
Dark red hair stuck to her face, eyes red.
With that bruise on her face.
no subject