Join Date: Oct 2005
Re: Sirens and Siamese [updated daily]
The place still smelled like ink. Closed for 2 years,the scratchy,heavy scent still lingered like a jailbirds ghost. THAT'S A COMFORTING THOUGHT! In the dark,in the quiet,,the place was perfect for one of those reality shows where they look for ghosts. I hopped down from the rusty metal desk on which I'd hopped wriggling in the window, down onto the threadbare carpet of the abandoned office. Ahead,where a door had been ripped off its hinges,total darkness. Now,it wasn't like I was SCARED. No...in unfamiliar surroundings,a cats senses come alive! It was the adrenal rush of being on the scene,of... 'SKREEK!' I sought a better vantage point- under the desk. Something swooped,then glided out the not--quite-rectangular window,taking wing into the night. 'Just a bat,you scairdey-cat!' I chided myself.
The hallway was almost completely dark. When humans abandon a building,sometimes they leave behind...IMPRESSIONS. Vibes,dude. In the apartment me and Kurt share,you get the impressions of former inhabitants,some from way back,from before the house was divided up into apartments... The psi equivalent of chicken soup boiling on the stove. In the old youngstown jail,you get despair,anger,fear,desparation. But this place. Nothing lingered. Because something was there. Something... I found myself letting my claws click on the floor,anything to break the silence. Gang graffitti, red on the walls, like a notice of warning at the entrance to the underworld. I came to 2 doors.