Borrowing Without Asking {Lara}
Posted: 26 Oct 2017, 23:11
Harper Rock.
The name sounded innocent enough. Though innocence was often a lie, and this was one of those times that it was an almost laughable falsehood. The city was another world, a city where the worlds of the living and the dead collided, a veritable grey area in the black and white fabric of the universe. Its existence defied logic, the realities behind what was happening there were beyond human understanding. The rumors that had spread far across the continent had been true. Now, that knowledge was commonplace. The things that he had come to learn, the truths that he had come to uncover had been blown wide open before he had even found his way to the city.
His journey had been for nothing. His sacrifice in vain. He was broke, his own money drained. When he had last checked his checking account, he had three dollars left to his name, and the clothes on his back. A woman driving an old VW bus had drove off with the belongings that had made it all the way to Canada with him. She had been his ride into town, out of pity for the taking of his things that she had planned to do from the moment she had pulled off the side of the road to pick him up.
He could always find the change for a payphone, call his family and have them transfer money into his account, but he had skipped town in secret. He had left his doctoral thesis on hold for the chance at a real-world study of the sort of mythos-come-to-life that he had been writing on for months, an opportunity the likes of which had never presented itself in written history. His parents would never have understood. They still wouldn’t. His sister would laugh. The wretched trio would tell him to find his own way home, he’d found his way out there so well.
They were right, it would seem. He had been played the fool many times on his way North, and now, he was stranded, but he was stranded on his own power.
He would have to rethink his thesis, to resubmit a new idea, a new angle on the subject, but with the things going on here in the maw of darkness that thousands called home, he had subject matter aplenty. The problem was the simple matter of survival.
He needed money. Money for food, for clothes, for supplies and for a place to stay. Money was the lifeblood of the modern world, and without it, he wasn’t going to make it very far. He wasn’t very good at being homeless. He’d learned that fast, when a grime-covered man in a dirty coat and torn hat had tried to stab him with a broken fork over the last half of the sandwich he’d bought with his last fistful of dollars.
He would never really make it as a homeless man.
As a thief, though? He was doing okay at that.
His wallet hadn’t felt so full in a long time. Seven hundred dollars, six credit cards, a debit card, and one Google Wallet card. He was sure to get some fast mileage out of that one. One more mark, and he was sure he would be set to get himself established. One deep pocket, and he would be set on an apartment, at least. Maybe a couple more after that for food and a few amenities, but for the time being, the apartment was the important part. A nice quiet space to do his work in peace. He just needed to find that last unfortunate soul.
The name sounded innocent enough. Though innocence was often a lie, and this was one of those times that it was an almost laughable falsehood. The city was another world, a city where the worlds of the living and the dead collided, a veritable grey area in the black and white fabric of the universe. Its existence defied logic, the realities behind what was happening there were beyond human understanding. The rumors that had spread far across the continent had been true. Now, that knowledge was commonplace. The things that he had come to learn, the truths that he had come to uncover had been blown wide open before he had even found his way to the city.
His journey had been for nothing. His sacrifice in vain. He was broke, his own money drained. When he had last checked his checking account, he had three dollars left to his name, and the clothes on his back. A woman driving an old VW bus had drove off with the belongings that had made it all the way to Canada with him. She had been his ride into town, out of pity for the taking of his things that she had planned to do from the moment she had pulled off the side of the road to pick him up.
He could always find the change for a payphone, call his family and have them transfer money into his account, but he had skipped town in secret. He had left his doctoral thesis on hold for the chance at a real-world study of the sort of mythos-come-to-life that he had been writing on for months, an opportunity the likes of which had never presented itself in written history. His parents would never have understood. They still wouldn’t. His sister would laugh. The wretched trio would tell him to find his own way home, he’d found his way out there so well.
They were right, it would seem. He had been played the fool many times on his way North, and now, he was stranded, but he was stranded on his own power.
He would have to rethink his thesis, to resubmit a new idea, a new angle on the subject, but with the things going on here in the maw of darkness that thousands called home, he had subject matter aplenty. The problem was the simple matter of survival.
He needed money. Money for food, for clothes, for supplies and for a place to stay. Money was the lifeblood of the modern world, and without it, he wasn’t going to make it very far. He wasn’t very good at being homeless. He’d learned that fast, when a grime-covered man in a dirty coat and torn hat had tried to stab him with a broken fork over the last half of the sandwich he’d bought with his last fistful of dollars.
He would never really make it as a homeless man.
As a thief, though? He was doing okay at that.
His wallet hadn’t felt so full in a long time. Seven hundred dollars, six credit cards, a debit card, and one Google Wallet card. He was sure to get some fast mileage out of that one. One more mark, and he was sure he would be set to get himself established. One deep pocket, and he would be set on an apartment, at least. Maybe a couple more after that for food and a few amenities, but for the time being, the apartment was the important part. A nice quiet space to do his work in peace. He just needed to find that last unfortunate soul.