|This is just a random deviation, enjoy!|
Devil on My BackThe back door clicked, and Mr Thompson’s daughter slithered up to bed. Mr Thompson’s daughter skirted the light, dodged the thick wall of stereo sound pouring from the open doorway. Mr Thompson had his friends to stay.Devil on My Back by Worlds-biggest-NERD
There was always the money for a Friday night. When the fridge was sparse and she was left sifting through tins at the back of the cupboard, there would always be something to drink, something to take the edge off.
Emma crept into her father’s bedroom, where his corduroy blazer was scrunched upon the unmade bed, and took a twenty from his wallet. Downstairs, the music swelled and heaved, great belches of noise rushed up to the landing. She flitted across to her room, lay down upon the bed, curled against the wall, nose to plaster. The house throbbed with the beat, lying there; very still, she could feel every chord and tinkle of the ivories.
It wouldn’t do. She hadn’t eaten for hours; the library had turfed her out first. Then the cafe where
Current Residence: Under a rock... in Britian
deviantWEAR sizing preference: Small
Print preference: Don't care
Favourite genre of music: Alternative Rock
Favourite photographer: Don't have one
Favourite style of art: Expressionism... and comics
Operating System: Crappy desktop
MP3 player of choice: an i-pod I'll never be able to afford
Shell of choice: a snail shell...
Wallpaper of choice: I have posters
Skin of choice: My own?
Favourite cartoon character: That's too hard!
Personal Quote: "Sorry I'm late"