Freestyling Entry 1

They took him to a shotgun house on Huger Street, not far from Calhoun, minutes away from the confines of his college dorm room. Sounds stopped.  The street darkened the deeper they ventured. A stray leaf smacked him in the face. It was wet; it felt slimey. Disgusting, he thought. He should have been studying, but instead he was headed to the aged red head’s house so that she could read his palm, confirm his past, predict his future. That wet, slimy leaf that smacked his face on that cool evening was trying to warn him. And if a leaf could talk it would have shouted, “Leave now!”


About jamesfantbooks

This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s