Secure
Prologue
Harry Styles
He smiled understandingly-much more than understandingly. It was one of those rare smiles with a quality of eternal reassurance in it, that you may come across four or five times in life. It faced--or seemed to face--the whole eternal world for an instant, and then concentrated on you with an irresistible prejudice in your favor. It understood you just as far as you wanted to be understood, believed in you as you would like to believe in yourself, and assured you that it had precisely the impressi--
My reading was cut off by slight pressure applied to my right foot. Looking up, I notice a man with pale skin and a scowl plastered on his face. He was looking at me. His blonde hair constantly getting in the way of his eyes. It is to my knowledge that he had kicked me, trying to capture my attention. Well, he succeeded.
He dug into his pocket chucking a dollar at me before stepping over me and continuing his journey to God knows where. I make a 'dog ear' on the page that I was on and closed my book. I scrambled for the dollar, sighing in relief once I got it into my hands. Quickly, I shove it in the pocket of the stolen dress pants I had been wearing for months, in fear someone would try to take it from me.
If you haven't caught on already, let me just get to the point. I am homeless. I have been for seven months now. I am one of the few lost souls wandering about the streets of New York. My thoughts always consumed with the wants and needs of a home cooked meal settled in my stomach, rather than scraps from a garbage bin outside of Wendy's.
My teeth ache to be brushed. My hair screaming out for a haircut. I crave the feeling of freshly washed fabric kissing my skin, not having to steal clothes from my fellow New Yorkers. I felt terrible doing such a thing, it killed me. But it was a means of survival.
How I got here is a story I cannot recite, or refuse to, I should say.
But I am determined to find my way.
My bones resemble old piano keys. I do intend on wiping the dust from them and allow my dreams to play them. Someday, somehow.
He smiled understandingly-much more than understandingly. It was one of those rare smiles with a quality of eternal reassurance in it, that you may come across four or five times in life. It faced--or seemed to face--the whole eternal world for an instant, and then concentrated on you with an irresistible prejudice in your favor. It understood you just as far as you wanted to be understood, believed in you as you would like to believe in yourself, and assured you that it had precisely the impressi--
My reading was cut off by slight pressure applied to my right foot. Looking up, I notice a man with pale skin and a scowl plastered on his face. He was looking at me. His blonde hair constantly getting in the way of his eyes. It is to my knowledge that he had kicked me, trying to capture my attention. Well, he succeeded.
He dug into his pocket chucking a dollar at me before stepping over me and continuing his journey to God knows where. I make a 'dog ear' on the page that I was on and closed my book. I scrambled for the dollar, sighing in relief once I got it into my hands. Quickly, I shove it in the pocket of the stolen dress pants I had been wearing for months, in fear someone would try to take it from me.
If you haven't caught on already, let me just get to the point. I am homeless. I have been for seven months now. I am one of the few lost souls wandering about the streets of New York. My thoughts always consumed with the wants and needs of a home cooked meal settled in my stomach, rather than scraps from a garbage bin outside of Wendy's.
My teeth ache to be brushed. My hair screaming out for a haircut. I crave the feeling of freshly washed fabric kissing my skin, not having to steal clothes from my fellow New Yorkers. I felt terrible doing such a thing, it killed me. But it was a means of survival.
How I got here is a story I cannot recite, or refuse to, I should say.
But I am determined to find my way.
My bones resemble old piano keys. I do intend on wiping the dust from them and allow my dreams to play them. Someday, somehow.
Notes
Here's the prologue for my new story!!!! I am so freaking excited for it!!!
please be sure to share, comment and vote!
And check o my other story, Resolution.
Lots of love. Xxx
I knew you'd bring important topics to your story. More and more people want to read meaningful things, even if fan fiction, a genre which, until some time ago, was only about punk Harry. I think there's a change in people's mentality, and I can't be more pleased about it. I'm glad to see more and more writers have started to care about the world surrounding us. It wasn't an obvious matter, but it's happening. I'm so happy you are here. Totally loved the chapter :)
7/10/15