Haunted Apartment Building - apt #7 and #8
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		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Light =&gt; Light: Exotic Small Groups =&gt; Topic started by: Photo on 12-09-2012, 22:05:03</h2>
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				Title: <strong>Haunted Apartment Building - apt #7 and #8</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Photo</strong> on <strong>12-09-2012, 22:05:03</strong>
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				<div class="floatleft">(http://i45.tinypic.com/10n5iec.jpg)</div><br><hr><br><strong><span class="bbc_u">Where</span>: Bedroom Apartment #8<br><span class="bbc_u">When</span>: Friday, around 3 PM<br><span class="bbc_u">Tag</span>: open</strong> (probably none though, this is a workable place holder)<br><br><hr><br><br><br><br>It was a realistically rough morning for Drake. He was just starting to come down enough from a high to realize that he had wasted his entire day, and what felt like his entire life. The unmotivated physics student had gone through two whiskey doubles from his private reserve. In addition, he had smoked two spliffs before noon, and he found himself hunched over a line of cocaine by about the same time as he ran out of weed. Half a pack of cigarettes were gone, is pot of coffee was half empty and cold. Drake hadn't even had breakfast yet. He had fought back tears for hours, slipping from his deadpan dining room table with nothing on it but an ashtray and his stained coffee mug, slipping to the comfort of his cool bedsheets, slipping to the chair at his desk where homework, personal journals, a bullshit 'memoir' and notes on a pornographic movie were all jumbled on top of his keyboard. The screen-saver on his desktop had been running for two days without interruption. <br><br>The mouse was unplugged.<br><br>Every door in the apartment was closed. Drake found himself sitting on the floor with his head in his hands, leaned against the foot of his bed in a pair of old jeans and a black t-shirt with the band name "Rites of Spring" slapped across the front in red lettering. He looked up from the dark corner of his palms. The world seemed a viscous place, the end of all means come for no judgement in his eyes. Drake was suicidal, but too unsure of himself to go through with it. Every morning felt like it would be the last cigarette, the last bowl of weed, the last bump, the last glass of whiskey, the first shower without a cloud of doubt and confused sexual energy afoot. It was always painted amber white, mostly plain with the idea of hope on the edge of his mind. Like fringe science, or quantum mechanics. Drake's livelihood was threatened in every second. And no one held the gavel, the jury was made of thirteen voices in his head, one plaintiff and an infinite number of defendants. <br><br>Apartment Number Eight was a brutal courtroom without a television, or a microwave. <br><br>The White Album was spinning on his Hi-Fi. The record had cost him Seventy-Five dollars in January of Two-Thousand and Eight. He did his best not to wear it out, but he listened to it, typically, two or three times a day. Now, the timbre of John Lennon's guitar was fading, during "Yer Blues", Drake could only hear the drums and the lyrics. It had made him more blissful then any caring voice. He didn't have many friends, and the ones he had started to leave him be when the love of his life had sent him packing. She had moved out of this same apartment two months before. All of his friends preferred her company, and they stopped answering calls about the same time that she had stopped texting his phone. "Yer Blues" was his favourite song, and he found the infinite distress of man within it's three minute run time.<br><br>He needed a new copy... the thought weighed heavy on his mind. Then he suddenly gave himself a goal, he wouldn't spend money on anything but rent and food until he had a new copy of the White Album, then he would allow himself another pack of Marlboro Reds, and a fresh bottle of Jack Daniels for celebration.<br><br>This idea shined a radiant light of peace on his mind. It was like a sign from God, a reason to go outside, 'A real god-damned reason to get up and move.'<br><br>So, Drake found his socks, and his shoes, and his sunglasses, and his wallet, and a cigarette or two rolled from old butts in the ashtray for the road. He didn't check the mirror, he had forgotten to shave or comb his hair. The smell of cigarettes lofted off of his skin, it was powerful enough to cover his breathe, in a high daze and lackadaisical estrangement, Drake had forgotten to brush his teeth in nearly a 36 hours. Finally, he put the last item, the keys to his apartment, in his coat pocket, and Drake left the ruins of his own life, stepping out of the door, and into the 4th level hallway, locking it behind him, and putting himself en route for the staircase.<br><br>His steps were odd, and disjointed, he limped with a swagger that came from illustrious apathy. Not only did Drake say 'fuck-it-all' to the concerns of life, but he had very solid rebuttals for anyone willing to defend the sanctity of love and happiness. He was a real downer these days, and with his sunglasses on inside, it was fairly obvious that he had no interest in playing 'Seinfeld' with his neighbours this afternoon.<br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Haunted Apartment Building - apt #7 and #8</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>BraveEarth</strong> on <strong>13-09-2012, 01:26:53</strong>
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				<div class="floatleft">(http://fc05.deviantart.net/fs71/i/2011/320/f/1/red_hair__red_glasses_by_zhenya_chan-d4gci9q.jpg)</div><span style="font-family: andale mono;" class="bbc_font"><em>Where: Apartment 7<br>When: Friday, around 3 PM<br>Tag: I guess Drake<br></em></span><hr>[/i][/font]<br><br>Of all the weeks it had to snow it had to be this particular week. That was the thought that was racing through Rebecca's mind while she grabbed at scarves and long sleeved shirts trying to assemble a slapdash form of attire so she could stock her pantry and fridge. The reason for her freak out was simply one of coincidence as her classmates had recently eaten her out of house and home due to one of their study sessions. They were not so uncouth as to not reimburse her for the lost food, but suddenly she was sitting on a pile of 5s and ones and rainy day money and no food. As much as she could literally eat her money, oh like one of those chocolate coins, she new she needed to scrape by a week's worth of food and possible alcohol gel. <br><br>Unfortunately for Rebecca she had only recently caught wind of the blizzard coming and with it looming over her area so quickly there would be not much in the way of edibles by the time she got out to the store. This she was not aware of however this was actually going to be her first big snow. Her local friends last year complained about the arid spring of a winter it was last year and as a result Rebecca had never really gotten her crash course in snow storm procedure yet.<br><br>So as Rebecca began shoving her sock clad feet into her water proof boots her thoughts were less on what they would have left and more on what she could stand eating and the number of heating devices she was aware of. She was so hasty in the fact that she needed to stock up that she left her television the weather update still rolling on in the back as newcasters compared various preference for snow play and preparation. She had locked her door and was on her way to the stairs, her tawny coat with it huge buttons wrapped around her to be far too warm for the indoors, when she heard the door open behind her letting her know that Drake was also going to be part of her day. <br><br>Rebecca really didn't like Drake, she made a point to try to give everyone one a chance and she often would give people more than enough rope. Honestly thought Drake always struck Rebecca as rather scummy, the boy reeked of alcohol far and looked far too past sober to communicate with half the time. He smelt like he didn't care, and he looked the part too although this didn't care to her spoke of atrophy and wasting away rather than the devil may care, no shame people of few she could count among her friends. Moving into this block had been a little nightmare because of this man anyway, until she learned how to his music would keep her awake at all hours of the night, and she was afraid to call the police on him, thinking afterwards he would instantly know of her betrayal and break down her door to do the devil knows to her. <br><br>As such Rebecca tensed when she heard the door open and started to quicken her pace knowing such an act would be a futile one. 
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