Post by orinocoflow on Dec 11, 2010 1:48:02 GMT -5
Paul glanced around, making sure that no one was watching. Satisfied, he casually strolled over to where Keith’s skateboard stood, leaned on his bag. Looking around once again, he gave it a gentle push with his foot, the black Converse hitting with a soft tap. With a final look around the warehouse where the rest of the lads were rehearsing their songs, the air busy with chatter as stagehands ran about, figuring out how to set up the stage, Paul kicked off with his right foot, his left on the board, and raced off across the smooth floor, maneuvering the narrow pathways. The wheels were well-greased, so no one heard him as he flew right on outside on the board, picking up speed going down the ramp.
Grinning, Paul tapped away a few times and then glided, the wind ruffling his hair, for once not gelled. Leaning to the side and shifting his weight, knees bent, he rounded the corner…
But he did not make the turn sharply enough and ended up rolling out into the road. Fortunately, it was usually empty.
Just then, from behind he heard a deafening screech before a startling pain shot through him as something hit him on the back of the legs.
Paul opened his eyes, blinking as the black was penetrated by a blinding light. Groaning, he lifted his arm up to shield his eyes, wincing as something tugged in his shoulder. His legs, shoulders, back…heck, everything hurt!
“Are you alright? You took a bad hit there.”
Paul looked up, squinting against the glare, and his eyes widened as they focused on a young woman squatting beside him.
She was about twenty-five or so years of age; long, wavy, light brown hair streaked with darker shades falling over her shoulders, framing a delicate face that was disturbed by a concerned expression. She had one hand on the pulse in his wrist and another on his upraised arm, the light weight comforting. She moved the hand from his wrist to her side, and when she brought it up again, he saw that it held a cell phone.
“No, it’s okay, don’t call anyone; I’m fine,” he assured her when she started to protest. When he tried to sit up, however, his head throbbed and a wave of dizziness struck him, forcing him to lie back down and close his eyes. He felt a gentle hand brush across his forehead, sweeping aside the hair that had fallen over it and lingering on a stinging line that was probably a cut. Turning his head slightly towards her palm, he sighed and tried to stay conscious.
“Who do you want me to call?” she asked. Paul paused, but then recited Ryan’s cell number. When the Irishman answered, Paul dimly heard through the roar in his ears her introduce herself and then briefly explain what had happened. There was a moment of silence, and then Ryan spoke on the other side, sounding as if he was running. Paul watched the woman speaking, calm, controlled, and concerned, the sunlight glinting off of her hair in a hypnotizing manner.
“He’ll be here soon,” murmured the woman, replacing the phone in her pocket. Paul felt himself nodding, but did not last long, closing his eyes again as pain and exhaustion took over.
The skateboard lay a few yards away in the bushes by the side of the road.
so, what do you guys think?
continue?
Grinning, Paul tapped away a few times and then glided, the wind ruffling his hair, for once not gelled. Leaning to the side and shifting his weight, knees bent, he rounded the corner…
But he did not make the turn sharply enough and ended up rolling out into the road. Fortunately, it was usually empty.
Just then, from behind he heard a deafening screech before a startling pain shot through him as something hit him on the back of the legs.
* * *
Paul opened his eyes, blinking as the black was penetrated by a blinding light. Groaning, he lifted his arm up to shield his eyes, wincing as something tugged in his shoulder. His legs, shoulders, back…heck, everything hurt!
“Are you alright? You took a bad hit there.”
Paul looked up, squinting against the glare, and his eyes widened as they focused on a young woman squatting beside him.
She was about twenty-five or so years of age; long, wavy, light brown hair streaked with darker shades falling over her shoulders, framing a delicate face that was disturbed by a concerned expression. She had one hand on the pulse in his wrist and another on his upraised arm, the light weight comforting. She moved the hand from his wrist to her side, and when she brought it up again, he saw that it held a cell phone.
“No, it’s okay, don’t call anyone; I’m fine,” he assured her when she started to protest. When he tried to sit up, however, his head throbbed and a wave of dizziness struck him, forcing him to lie back down and close his eyes. He felt a gentle hand brush across his forehead, sweeping aside the hair that had fallen over it and lingering on a stinging line that was probably a cut. Turning his head slightly towards her palm, he sighed and tried to stay conscious.
“Who do you want me to call?” she asked. Paul paused, but then recited Ryan’s cell number. When the Irishman answered, Paul dimly heard through the roar in his ears her introduce herself and then briefly explain what had happened. There was a moment of silence, and then Ryan spoke on the other side, sounding as if he was running. Paul watched the woman speaking, calm, controlled, and concerned, the sunlight glinting off of her hair in a hypnotizing manner.
“He’ll be here soon,” murmured the woman, replacing the phone in her pocket. Paul felt himself nodding, but did not last long, closing his eyes again as pain and exhaustion took over.
The skateboard lay a few yards away in the bushes by the side of the road.
* * *
so, what do you guys think?
continue?