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Who: Milena Macnair and Ben Dustan
What: I don't honestly know. Presumably, Mila and Ben run into one another and then something else happens.
Where: Brighton, England
When: December, 2007
Rating: PG/PG-13ish
Status: Open; incomplete
Bright, gaudy and seedy normally, Brighton looked surprisingly ordinary in daylight. The houses were just houses, the people who lived there just normal people. The sex shops weren't exactly flaunted, the multiple nightclubs not almost shaking the ground with thumping bass lines twenty four hours a day. For at least half the day Brighton was simply a town with a reputation, albeit a mostly deserved one. The closer it got to nightfall, the more the city seemed to come alive, the people that had hid in flats recovering from last night's hangover creeping out from under their duvets and wandering to the off licence to get a few vodkas to start the night off. The fairground at the pier's lights were switched on and suddenly the laughter on the air was almost screeching- it seemed fake, forced almost.
It was not unlike the city itself. It seemed fake and forced between afternoon and night proper, as if it didn't know what to do with itself during the transition from normal city to England's gay club capital.
It was then that the "freaks" started coming out- men dressed up in Mr Blobby suits, men wandering around pretending to be homeless to get money for booze, men dressed as Elvis. It was one of the Elvis impersonators that truly was frightening Ben at that moment in time. He looked like he was either drunk or stoned and had had his face frozen in an expression which made him seem rather like a pervert no matter what. And whatever street Ben went down he seemed to follow him.
Steps quickening, dodging around the bins and the people of Brighton, Ben glanced over his shoulder to see the white suited man still following him.
For Merlin's sake, go choke on a cheeseburger, he thought, pushing open the door of one of the nearby establishments and stepping inside.
What: I don't honestly know. Presumably, Mila and Ben run into one another and then something else happens.
Where: Brighton, England
When: December, 2007
Rating: PG/PG-13ish
Status: Open; incomplete
Bright, gaudy and seedy normally, Brighton looked surprisingly ordinary in daylight. The houses were just houses, the people who lived there just normal people. The sex shops weren't exactly flaunted, the multiple nightclubs not almost shaking the ground with thumping bass lines twenty four hours a day. For at least half the day Brighton was simply a town with a reputation, albeit a mostly deserved one. The closer it got to nightfall, the more the city seemed to come alive, the people that had hid in flats recovering from last night's hangover creeping out from under their duvets and wandering to the off licence to get a few vodkas to start the night off. The fairground at the pier's lights were switched on and suddenly the laughter on the air was almost screeching- it seemed fake, forced almost.
It was not unlike the city itself. It seemed fake and forced between afternoon and night proper, as if it didn't know what to do with itself during the transition from normal city to England's gay club capital.
It was then that the "freaks" started coming out- men dressed up in Mr Blobby suits, men wandering around pretending to be homeless to get money for booze, men dressed as Elvis. It was one of the Elvis impersonators that truly was frightening Ben at that moment in time. He looked like he was either drunk or stoned and had had his face frozen in an expression which made him seem rather like a pervert no matter what. And whatever street Ben went down he seemed to follow him.
Steps quickening, dodging around the bins and the people of Brighton, Ben glanced over his shoulder to see the white suited man still following him.
For Merlin's sake, go choke on a cheeseburger, he thought, pushing open the door of one of the nearby establishments and stepping inside.