Sylux's Story Thread
"Hello." The wind from the open window swirled around him. The scent of strange things these people were familiar with filled the room, tinged with Brut and previous-day musk, flowing violently with the wind. The drapes swayed themselves to and fro, full and small with assistance of the brightness-polluted summer breeze. The people around him fell silent as the chalky words strung out from his hoarse strings of voice-sound.
"My name is Bill," he lingered, heightening the suspense of the people. Their chairs tightened around their buns, and their buns around their bun-hairs, and their bun-hairs around the air trapped within, silent, and not flowing like Bill's words, like his scent, like the now-soft breeze. Their mouths remained closed and clenched if they were already, and they closed with awe and amazement if they were not. Their eyes focused intently into his, although his did not return the favor. He stared into the distance that was not there physically, but had been there for him since he could remember, and had now crept into the others as they stared down this godly man, whose eyes swam with the ghosts of his past, like he was fighting them at that very moment, battling, struggling to grasp, yet not showing it to the common folk.
"...my name is Bill," he said.
...am addicted to crack cocaine."