Dear Diary,
---It's Belle again. A new book calls for new introductions, you know.
---Work's going well. Jake had to throw some guy out again last night, and I think it was the same one who he threw out a few nights ago. Men never learn, do they? If they wanted that there are places they could go, women they could pay, even just with a drink or two and I know that there are other clubs they can get that sort of thing if they want it. The other girls keep talking about some place in the city, I don't remember the name, but the dancers there all have porn star names and it sounds like they're hookers who do it to music more than anything else. I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm not pretending that what I do is angelic or something, but it's better than that. If I could make as much money dancing differently, I'd do it straightaway, but this way pays the bills and leaves me with enough time to do other things too. Maybe I should enter one of those TV talent shows and get famous. Make some real money.
---About those...
---I still haven't figured it out, but I will. I have to. I know what I saw and I know, even if nobody else believes me, that I'm right that it was something different weird and not like the creeps who stand outside work after hours weird, but the kind you read about in books and get put in hospital for taking seriously. There's all these rumours going around, I hear them talking about it at work sometimes. Stuff about people living down in the sewers and at night there are funny sounds that come up from there, like people are fighting. Sometimes there are screams too. Maybe I need to go down there? During the day though, there aren't as many screams in the day, it must be safer. Besides, I have to work tonight.
---****. I'm going to be late. Gotta go. I'll write again soon. Maybe after I've seen what's in the sewers, if I go down there.
Dear Diary
-
Isabelle
- Registered User
- Posts: 14
- Joined: 09 Apr 2013, 18:34
Re: Dear Diary
Dear Diary,
---I checked out the sewers this morning when I went to the bank to cash my tips. There were loads of people down there! Half of them seemed half asleep though, like they'd been up all night and I guess maybe they had been, that's when it gets loud down there and the screams start, after all. I saw some of the bald guys they talk about at work and a couple of them even tried to talk to me, said they could do business with me if I was interested, but I came up to the surface instead. Who wants to do business with guys who live in the sewers and can't even afford a decent set of clothes? Sounds like a bad terrible investment to me.
---I guess the rumours are just about some underground drug dealers (there were those other rumours about gang wars I told you about, after all) or really bad salesmen with a weird hook to get people interested, but there's definitely something... Odd down there. All those people half asleep. Maybe they were on whatever drug it is the bald guys sell. Maybe there's some sort of cult going on. Whatever it is, it's weird. Something to think about for sure.
---I'm not sure where to go from here. What do you think? I have to know what happened. I have to know, to prove that what I saw was real and get proof of it. It doesn't look like the answer is in the sewers. The quarantine's just the sick people and you can't get in there any way, especially since they've upped the guard around the gate, not that you could (or should!) get in before then either.
---Anyway. Time for work again. I'll let you know what I decide to do next. Newspapers, maybe?
---I checked out the sewers this morning when I went to the bank to cash my tips. There were loads of people down there! Half of them seemed half asleep though, like they'd been up all night and I guess maybe they had been, that's when it gets loud down there and the screams start, after all. I saw some of the bald guys they talk about at work and a couple of them even tried to talk to me, said they could do business with me if I was interested, but I came up to the surface instead. Who wants to do business with guys who live in the sewers and can't even afford a decent set of clothes? Sounds like a bad terrible investment to me.
---I guess the rumours are just about some underground drug dealers (there were those other rumours about gang wars I told you about, after all) or really bad salesmen with a weird hook to get people interested, but there's definitely something... Odd down there. All those people half asleep. Maybe they were on whatever drug it is the bald guys sell. Maybe there's some sort of cult going on. Whatever it is, it's weird. Something to think about for sure.
---I'm not sure where to go from here. What do you think? I have to know what happened. I have to know, to prove that what I saw was real and get proof of it. It doesn't look like the answer is in the sewers. The quarantine's just the sick people and you can't get in there any way, especially since they've upped the guard around the gate, not that you could (or should!) get in before then either.
---Anyway. Time for work again. I'll let you know what I decide to do next. Newspapers, maybe?
-
Isabelle
- Registered User
- Posts: 14
- Joined: 09 Apr 2013, 18:34
Re: Dear Diary
Dear Diary,
---I think I'm starting to understand what regret really feels like.
---Before, I've hated what happened after I did something or didn't do something or whatever, but I never regretted doing it before (or not. You know what I mean, right?). Not until now. I wish I'd never sold my shoes. I get it, I know why, even now when I think back on it I know why I did it. Why I had to do it, but I still wish I hadn't. I want them back. I could afford to get them back, or get some new ones, but what's the point? I'm not going to get my shoes back now, not so long after I sold them and I wouldn't use them anyway. They're probably better off with whoever bought them. At least they're being used, I'm sure, but I've no reason to wear them any more. Not now, and I doubt I ever will again.
---Wow, that sounds defeatist, doesn't it? I guess it kinda is. I'm just really down about the whole thing today.
---Anyway, I better get ready for work soon. Not quite the same, but the shoes are kinda nice all the same and it's because of it that I could afford a new pair if I really wanted to. I should be grateful, right? Isn't this the sort of thing I always wanted, to be paid for this? Somehow, it's not quite the same as I thought it was, even if the money's good.
---Enough of that. I'll write again soon. Hopefully in a better mood than I am now.
---I think I'm starting to understand what regret really feels like.
---Before, I've hated what happened after I did something or didn't do something or whatever, but I never regretted doing it before (or not. You know what I mean, right?). Not until now. I wish I'd never sold my shoes. I get it, I know why, even now when I think back on it I know why I did it. Why I had to do it, but I still wish I hadn't. I want them back. I could afford to get them back, or get some new ones, but what's the point? I'm not going to get my shoes back now, not so long after I sold them and I wouldn't use them anyway. They're probably better off with whoever bought them. At least they're being used, I'm sure, but I've no reason to wear them any more. Not now, and I doubt I ever will again.
---Wow, that sounds defeatist, doesn't it? I guess it kinda is. I'm just really down about the whole thing today.
---Anyway, I better get ready for work soon. Not quite the same, but the shoes are kinda nice all the same and it's because of it that I could afford a new pair if I really wanted to. I should be grateful, right? Isn't this the sort of thing I always wanted, to be paid for this? Somehow, it's not quite the same as I thought it was, even if the money's good.
---Enough of that. I'll write again soon. Hopefully in a better mood than I am now.