by Rory Warwick

Created on: May 27, 2010

Part I – Red Venice

“Footsteps…..footsteps are all I hear…..not a bird in the sky, not a car on the road…nothing but the solemn sound of my footsteps”.

Chapter I – Homecoming

I

It’s raining hard; it always rains hard on the road to Champion City. Somewhere in the midst of the downpour and the speeding cars, and the wet mud on the side of a flooded highway, I’m sitting in a truck stop staring out into the ass-end of a cold and unforgiving night, sipping on a raw black coffee and sucking on my last cigarette. As the black sky fills with shades of blue, I know somewhere, behind all those clouds; the sun is waking up.

These words are easier to write down than to say to anybody I have ever known, and since I set off for home two weeks ago, I’ve come to realise that people are more fragile than I ever thought, and so am I. I’m afraid to be back there if I’m being honest with myself; I didn’t know how I’d feel, but seeing the black silhouette of those ominous skyscrapers in the distance, churns my stomach the way only fear and anticipation can. I’m afraid because I know what predators are waiting for me in the concrete jungle, and I remember what I lost last time I was there, I’m not supposed to be alive anymore.

I’ll finish this entry when I reach the motel, then I think I’ll sleep for about a week.

Samuels (Or Sams to those closest few) finished off his crappy cup of coffee, stubbed his cigarette out in the ash tray and put his note pad in a small bag by his feet before sliding out of the seat. He stood facing the window and stared out through the sheet glass window at the rain, the glow from the sky made the puddles shimmer. He fumbled with his coat collar. The rain poured from a dark blue sky hiding behind a blanket of cloud, he tied his long brown coat up at the waist, swept the long, untidy hair from his face, and threw a glance to thank the waitress behind the counter as he bent down to pick up his bag. Then he lifted the collar of his coat up over his neck and stepped out in to the rain.

Sams waded through an inch and a half of water and mud all the way back to the main highway; his head hanging low as he walked.  His long dirty blonde hair matted over his head and dripped wet from the rain. Buried deep within dark sockets lived a pair of blue eyes that fixed themselves on the ground at his feet. Sams’ long brown trench coat struggled

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