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Waste
09-23-2008, 07:03 PM
Chapter one.
Selection.
“Fabulous. Turn. Strut, pout for me Charles! Exquisite!” Marvell Davis was hyper again, dancing around the studio with his top of the range digital camera, snapping shots of his latest obsession. “You are a star Charles!” Davis cried throwing his hands into the air, a beaming smile on his thin face, his greedy eyes set on the model, Charles Turner, who was pulling all sorts of seductive faces and poses as he showed off a new range of Marvell Davis’s best and most expensive male underwear. “Charles you are gorgeous!” Davis set down his camera, and strutted towards his new model, unaware that another set of greedy eyes were watching through a darkened window.
Annie was watching, and she liked what she saw. Charles Turner did have a lustrous body, but it was his thick blonde hair that made him stand out, golden locks that fell around his green eyes as he flicked his angled head to the side and winked at Marvell. She gave a disgusted hiss when Marvell squeezed the model’s tight bum and gave him the smallest peck on the cheek. She could almost imagine his high, camp voice asking Charles Turner if he was gay, but she knew otherwise, she’d done her research on Mr Turner, the man was perfectly straight and usually had a different girlfriend every month, his girlfriends were stunning, naturally, and it was said that he only stayed with one until he found someone more beautiful. In that respect Annie and Charles were very much alike, “I’m also searching for the perfect specimens Mr Turner.” She whispered as she backed away from the window.
She turned and walked slowly down the road, Annie wore a black halter neck cocktail dress that fell over her perfect hourglass body and rustled around her thin ankles. She had the softest brown hair and an angled face with sharp, intelligent coffee brown eyes. Annie turned into a large upper class restaurant and asked for a table reserved for “Mr and Miss Rice” the waiter gave a polite nod and lead her through the restaurant. She slinked rather than walked, swaying her thin hips from side to side, superiority rolled off of her as she locked eyes with many of the men and women that she passed, always searching for the perfect specimen. Many of the people she looked at looked away first, and why shouldn’t they? She was their superior and they subconsciously knew it. Annie Rice was of a whole other standard to these people.
She slipped delicately into a soft seat, across the table from her twin brother, he looked up and locked eyes with her, they had the same eyes and the same hair. His body was thin but well muscled he was perfect, and like her he was superior to those who sat close by. He leant across the table and kissed her smooth cheek as she kissed his, then pulled back his eyes trailing along her neck and over the smooth planes of her shoulders.
“Tell me Edward have you heard of a man named Charles Turner?”
Edward raised a perfectly waxed eyebrow “Isn’t he a model?”
“Yes, he currently works for Marvell Davis. Just around the corner actually.” She lifted a crystal glass, filled with expensive champagne, to her full lips and took a delicate sip.
“Is that why you were late?”
“I was late?” Annie run a manicured finger around the edge of the glass, her beautiful face set with perfect innocence.
“Two minutes actually” Edward adopted his twin sisters tone, mocking her slightly, but if it annoyed her she didn’t show it.
“I spent those minutes watching, what were you doing?” she raised her eyebrows slightly.
“Watching, remember that girl we saw on the Raven College swim team? She just left.” Edward flashed a white smile, Annie was spared from answering by the arrival of their waiter, they ordered and then once the waiter was gone their conversation flowed onto more pressing matters.
“Is he as beautiful as in the pictures?” Edward asked.
“He’s dazzling, much better than our current.” Annie replied, keeping her voice quiet.
Edward sighed “I wish you would get it perfect the first time, we can’t keep disposing of them and expect to remain undiscovered.”
“They won’t find us Edward, there is no trace.” Annie hissed, closing the topic. Edward held her gaze, trying to depict a line of uncertainty in her eyes, but there wasn’t one. Annie believed in what they were doing. Edward could tell that she wouldn’t be stopped.

lemonek
09-23-2008, 07:45 PM
ur smart and have great ideas.

BlueMoon
09-23-2008, 08:59 PM
cool. good idea

Waste
09-25-2008, 04:01 PM
I'm just gonna use this thread for small pieces i write due to boredom ^^

Coffee
Why is it so hard to find a decent coffee in London these days? I am an 18 year old photographer with a phone bill the size of Manhattan, the worst hair days ever, I had a fight with the eyeliner and it won, my eyes are killing me because I am tired, it is 7 am, I was up at 4 and I think I deserve a decent coffee! But no! Do you know how many coffee shops are open at 7am? None. Only a pathetic little café. Normally I am strolling along this very road at 9 am and I am able to pop into a Starbucks and get a take away coffee but no Starbucks at 7 am. All I can find is a stingy little café and the coffee I got from there tastes like my aunts homemade rock cakes. Dry and bitter.

Now I really am in a bad mood. I have to meet a manager of a magazine company at quarter past 7 and I am going to be late. I have 10 minutes to walk down this street and it is not going to happen while these shoes are wearing away at my feet!

This stupid world is trying to kill me.

Why am I so shallow? Why do I not think things through? Maybe if I had had the time this morning to stop and think ‘hay wait a second, the last time I wore these shoes they shredded me’ then I would be ok, but no. Instead I’m walking down a long cold road in knee high rocks, a folder balanced in one hand and a shit coffee in the other, my phone is ringing and my jeans are falling down. Oh and I’m wearing y-fronts so the whole jeans-halfway-down-my-arse thing is so going to cause a scene! Not that I already haven’t, yeah I can see all the snot nosed office workers looking at me!

Bastards, they think they are so great because they are snot nosed and suited up, me? I’m in a baggy pair of black jeans, rocks, a tight sleeveless shirt and a hoodie, all black. My dark brown hair is all over the place and I know for a fact that my eyeliner has smudged. And you know what? I don’t care! I’m too busy trying to keep my trousers up to care how dodgily I have to walk to manage it. In fact the snotties will have a lot more to worry about if I don’t walk like a prat! So up yours snotties!

Axe Man
09-25-2008, 04:48 PM
ur smart and have great ideas.

yeah it's sounding really good. keep it up. ;)

monster111
09-25-2008, 05:20 PM
i like i like good

KiriJolith
09-26-2008, 03:45 PM
Wow Waste, you have so many good writings. You should seriously write a book!

Waste
09-29-2008, 11:44 AM
The hand came down again,
Struck hard across my cheek,
Forced me to the floor.
You made me feel so weak.

What was it I did this time?
Do you even know?
Of course you don’t you’re off your head.
Trying to reach a brand new low.

You come home, you’re gone again
This time you’ve gone too far,
I’ve given you too much blood.
You’ve left your last scar.

This time I have the upper hand,
Tonight I have the gun,
I’ll take you to the bedroom,
Here’s where I have my fun.

Now it’s your turn,

This time you’re on the floor,

Tonight is your suicide.

zato
09-29-2008, 02:44 PM
Nice, u have some talent for writing huh ... keep it up it's cool ;)

carolyn07
09-29-2008, 03:11 PM
...nice ideas!,.

and i like your signature too!,.hehehe!,.♥

Waste
10-03-2008, 07:08 PM
Why is it so hard to find a decent coffee in Romford these days? I am an 18 year old guitarist with a phone bill the size of Manhattan, the worst hair days ever, I had a fight with the eyeliner and it won, my eyes are killing me because I am tired, it is 7 am, I was up at 4 and I think I deserve a decent coffee! But no! Do you know how many coffee shops are open at 7am? None. Only a pathetic little café. Normally I am strolling along this very road at 9 am and I am able to pop into a Starbucks and get a take away coffee but no Starbucks at 7 am. All I can find is a stingy little café and the coffee I got from there tasted like my aunts homemade rock cakes. Dry and bitter.

Now I really am in a bad mood. I have to meet the guys at quarter past 7 and I am going to be late. I have 10 minutes to walk down this street and it is not going to happen while these shoes are wearing away at my feet!

This stupid world is trying to kill me.

Why am I so shallow? Why do I not think things through? Maybe if I had had the time this morning to stop and think ‘hay wait a second, the last time I wore these shoes they shredded me’ then I would be ok, but no. Instead I’m walking down a long cold road in knee high rocks, a folder balanced in one hand and a shit coffee in the other, my phone is ringing and my jeans are falling down. Oh and I’m wearing y fronts so the whole jeans-halfway-down-my-arse thing is so going to cause a scene! Not that I already haven’t, yeah I can see all the snot nosed office workers looking at me!

Bastards, they think they are so great because they are snot nosed and suited up, me? I’m in a baggy pair of black jeans, rocks, a tight sleeveless shirt and a hoodie, all black. My dark brown hair is all over the place and I know for a fact that my eyeliner has smudged. And you know what? I don’t care! I’m too busy trying to keep my trousers up to care about how dodgily I have to walk to manage it. In fact the snotties will have a lot more to worry about if I don’t walk like a prat!

I look up and sigh with relief as the end of the road comes into sight, my guys are crowded around the lamppost on the corner, our lamppost. Honestly, it has our name on it, I’m still a few minutes walk from the corner but from here I can still tell who is who. Matt is the one leaning against the rail, a thin line of smoke rising from his lips. I can pick him out easily due to his lime green hair and bright clothes. The next person I recognize is Lux, who wouldn’t? I could see a few of the snotties giving her disgusted looks as they pass. She has white blonde hair that would reach to her waist if it were down, but she always has it tied into high bunches, the tips tinted pink. She wears a short tartan skirt, a low cut white tank top and a black cardigan with thigh high white socks and pumps. Next to her is Si, how do I know? Well not only is he standing by Lux with a protective hand on her shoulder but he also has bright orange hair. As I draw closer I finally notice Casey, standing on tip toes his eyes scanning the street, looking for me. He’s the smallest in our group but also the second oldest, always hyper, as demonstrated by the fact that he is now running at me, a smile stretching his face. In one hand he held his drumsticks and in the other a pot of sherbert.

“Slow…slow! SLOW!” I yell as he draws closer, arms wide and ready to embrace me. “SLOW!” of course he didn’t listen, and a few seconds later he hit me with the force of a cannonball, knocking the air from me, I stumble back, my coffee slopping over my hand, I cry out in pain and throw the cup aside, damn coffee, causing me no end of trouble. Once balance is regained I cup the back of his head with my hand and brush my fingers through his hair before taking his shoulder and forcing him back.

He narrows his eyes “Your late.”

“Five minutes!” I protest.

“That’s late.” I have no trouble identifying that voice, it’s female. I look up at Lux who is now walking towards me, followed by Si and Matt. Matt leans over Casey and claps my shoulder.

“At least you made it this time.” He grins.

“I’d have made it last time if you hadn’t barricaded my door.” I reply sharply, my bad mood creeping through. Matt let’s go of my shoulder and moves back, Casey moves aside to let Lux come forward and draw me into a hug, I hug her back.

“Aren’t you cold?” I ask.

“Freezing.”

I feel my eyes widen “And that is because…”

“I will not allow the weather to hinder my looks.” She says, almost proudly.

“But she’ll let it turn her blue.” Si adds hitting the back of her head affectionately. She turns and pouts up at him.

“Ginger.” She shoots.

“Fake.” He replies. I roll my eyes at Matt as we all turn and begin to walk towards the station. I drop into step beside Matt, Casey bouncing along in front and Lux walking behind with Si. People stare as we go past and without the coffee I find that I can slip my hand into my pocket to hold up my trousers. In a way I find myself feeling grateful towards Casey, I reach forward and ruffle his hair. He looks over his shoulder and screws up his eyes then pours a mouthful of sherbert into his mouth and carries on walking.

Casey is 19, a year older than matt and myself, Lux is 17 and Si is 20. Yet the age range has never been an issue, we all have the mental age of a nine year old and that’s good enough, except Casey, he’s mentally about 3.