Post by seajay on Dec 11, 2016 9:53:37 GMT
Her shift was over. The fox sighed putting her thumb to the old finger print scanner that worked as a punch clock. Her feet ached and her boots had another hole in them. She was an underdweller. She worked in the city under the city. Those who had more were higher up, but she had very little. She washed dishes at one of the local food joints. It didn't pay much, but they let her eat some of the food that was about to spoil. That very benefit kept her alive, as her pay didn't get her through all her bills anyways. She was thankful for the work, and today she was done with a 16 hour shift. That was a fatter pay check for her. She was happy. The girl let her tail wag for a moment, a celebration too soon. She opened the closet to which she kept her coat and wait... where was it? Her prized possession, her umbrella was gone. She looked around frantically. She knew she brought it to work. Who stole it? Where could it have gone? She whimpered looking around the store frantically. The neighborhood she lived in was in the leaky district. Sludge dripped from above, burning and dying fur and skin. The umbrella was covered in a wax that protected it. The oil would burn through her clothes. She didn't even own a hat. The fox had no luck, she searched and searched, but couldn't find her umbrella. So she steeled herself, and left for home. The traffic of motorized vehicles and bikes whipped past her. She at least had her coat.
It was only a short walk to the leaky district. The first drop of oil fell on her shoulder. Oil wasn't so bad, but the acidic sludge was. She kept walking, praying to gods she didn't believe in that she'd make it home. Drip. Another drop hit her. This time it was her ears, but there was no burning sensation. Just oil, she sighed. Drip. This time the feeling stung. Acid made contact with her paw. She yipped, covering her hands with her coat. Drip. Drip. Another hit the back of her neck. She cried out. The smell of burning hair filled her nostrils. The fox pulled her jacket over her head and picked up her pace. Drip. The sound of burning fabric alerted her that the jacket would not last long. Drip drip. She took off into a sprint. A bead of sludge burned through and landed on her ear. It hurt, the skin atop or head felt like it was on fire. She splashed through the sludge kicking it up onto her pants. Drip drip. It landed onto her exposed hands that held the coat. She reached her door. Drip. The fox had to drop her coat to get the keycard. The droplet hit her tail forever dying it black. Her hands shook as she did her best to line it up with the slot. Drip. A big drop ran down her back. The pain knocked her to her knees. Drip. Was she going to die? Drip. A drop landed on her cheek causing her to scream. She wouldn't go out like this. Her burnt hand took hold of the door nob. Drip. Another scalding drop landed on her forehead. She wiped it from her fur before it could get near her eyes. Through pure determination she stuck the card in and yanked it out. The lock clicked and she gave the door a push, tumbling into her complex. She took a few steps, but collapsed on the floor. She laid still, breathing. Her energy gone. She had made it home.
(A short little story focused on hardship and world-building. More to come most likely. )
It was only a short walk to the leaky district. The first drop of oil fell on her shoulder. Oil wasn't so bad, but the acidic sludge was. She kept walking, praying to gods she didn't believe in that she'd make it home. Drip. Another drop hit her. This time it was her ears, but there was no burning sensation. Just oil, she sighed. Drip. This time the feeling stung. Acid made contact with her paw. She yipped, covering her hands with her coat. Drip. Drip. Another hit the back of her neck. She cried out. The smell of burning hair filled her nostrils. The fox pulled her jacket over her head and picked up her pace. Drip. The sound of burning fabric alerted her that the jacket would not last long. Drip drip. She took off into a sprint. A bead of sludge burned through and landed on her ear. It hurt, the skin atop or head felt like it was on fire. She splashed through the sludge kicking it up onto her pants. Drip drip. It landed onto her exposed hands that held the coat. She reached her door. Drip. The fox had to drop her coat to get the keycard. The droplet hit her tail forever dying it black. Her hands shook as she did her best to line it up with the slot. Drip. A big drop ran down her back. The pain knocked her to her knees. Drip. Was she going to die? Drip. A drop landed on her cheek causing her to scream. She wouldn't go out like this. Her burnt hand took hold of the door nob. Drip. Another scalding drop landed on her forehead. She wiped it from her fur before it could get near her eyes. Through pure determination she stuck the card in and yanked it out. The lock clicked and she gave the door a push, tumbling into her complex. She took a few steps, but collapsed on the floor. She laid still, breathing. Her energy gone. She had made it home.
(A short little story focused on hardship and world-building. More to come most likely. )