Categories > Celebrities > Guns n' Roses > 15-12-5.
It was the way that old door creaked, the darkness that filled the room along with the sorrow that followed everytime he stepped into it. Or maybe it was that the tap that was placed in the bathroom dripped endlessly, it was the only noise that ever emerged from the tiny place.
Or maybe, Just maybe, he was beyond the point of believing anymore.
The floorboards creaked and moaned when he walked onto them, this would drive any normal man crazy. But not him, he simply ignored the wooded cries and continued on into another room.
Not a light ever flicked on.
Carpet now brushed underneath his shoes, the room was dim and cluttered with various objects and clothing. A bed layed along the centre of the room, it wasn't very big, infact i would say it wasn't much of a bed at all. But it keeped him warm, it was probably the closest thing he had gotten to, to feeling safe. His shoes soon joined the cluttered mess around him as he sat upon the small bed, he sat silently for a while, just starring at the white wall in front of him before he laid back along the bed and brought himself to a comfortable position.
It was a bright Friday afternoon, the sun shone perfectly upon the world and birds happily followed the raise of the sun tweating freely in the days air.
But clenched to a pillow, in a dark and empty aparment layed a scared and fragile man.
A sweet man.
The kind of man where his smile could brighten a pitch black room or his singing would bring people to there knees, a man that could make you smile without even saying a word, a man that was full of passion and hope.
A man that never realised any of this.
The kind of man that carried alot of anger and pain, a man that would lash out and scream until his lungs were dry, a man that wasn't affraid to throw a punch or drink a little too much.
A man that let his anger push away the soft side of him.
The kind of man that refused cry.
It wasn't long until the small room got darker and still layed in the centre of the room upon his bed he sat. Hair flowed over his shoulders as he sat cross legged, the glimpse of red light that could be seen through the darkness was caused by a half burnt away ciggarette that was placed between his lips. He turned his head, more of his hair hung over his shoudler as he glanced at the digital clock upon his bedside table.
9:15pm.
A groan emgered from the man as he cautionsly pulled himself from his bed, butting out the remains of his ciggarette, his thin frame stood in the darkness, he had seemed to be focused on the window in front of him. Shaking his head strains of hair flew into the air, tho the window was covered by an old sheet he had put up a while ago something behind it made him curious and it had scared him. With feet dragging along the ground he made his way into the tiny packed kitchen, the tiles were cold agaisnt his feet but once again he paid no attention. Leaning down he reached a hand up and slowly opened a small cupboard door, watching his hand disappear into the black mass he soon pulled it back out, his fingers wrapped around a clear bottle. Not bothering to move from his spot, he twisted the lid of the bottle and let it slip from his fingers, making a almost tapping noise as it hit the ground and bounced away. His eyes followed the small cap boucing along his tiles of his kitchen floor and finally coming to a stop near his fridge, the lack of light had made it hard to see if it had actually rolled underneath, but decided it wasn't worth moving for so he simply rested himself agasint the cupboard.
As he sat on his kitchen floor in the middle of the nights darkness, his head tilted back and with his knees brought to his chest he wrapped his lips around the neck of the bottle and let the smooth beverage slide down his throat. Clenching his teeth he immediately hissed as the liquid burnt slightly, but before long his lips were once again wrapped around the neck of the bottle, the burning sensation eased and soon the sweet taste of vodka filled his tastebuds.
He took another swing of the liquor that was wrapped in his hands, he was sure it must be around 11 by now, the room had taken full darkness execpt for the line of light that shone through a gap in the kitchen window. It flowed through the open curtins and broke into a thin line that made a small circle on the white tiles, filling the room with a dim shade of light. If you were to walk into this room you'd probably see fine after your eyes adjusted, but as he laid on his back gazing at the ceiling above the small circle of light did nothing to help him see the atmosphere that surrounded him, the sweet liquor had already blurred his vision.
Quiet humming echoed the tiny apartment, a soft and unusual tune seemed to escape through his lips and dance along the lonely halls of his place. It was suprising to hear anything fill the quiet walls of the apartment when usually all that lingered inside was nothing but dark rooms and creaking wood. A light tapping noise followed the soft tune making it more intense and upbeat, with one arm behind his head he continued to lay upon the kitchen floor doing nothing but gaze at the ceiling and letting the nearly empty bottle dangle from the tips of his fingers, causing the bottle to sway back and forth making contact with the porcelain tiles.
A wondering mind in most cases would be somewhat very dangerous to some, and in this case that was exatly what it was.
Or maybe, Just maybe, he was beyond the point of believing anymore.
The floorboards creaked and moaned when he walked onto them, this would drive any normal man crazy. But not him, he simply ignored the wooded cries and continued on into another room.
Not a light ever flicked on.
Carpet now brushed underneath his shoes, the room was dim and cluttered with various objects and clothing. A bed layed along the centre of the room, it wasn't very big, infact i would say it wasn't much of a bed at all. But it keeped him warm, it was probably the closest thing he had gotten to, to feeling safe. His shoes soon joined the cluttered mess around him as he sat upon the small bed, he sat silently for a while, just starring at the white wall in front of him before he laid back along the bed and brought himself to a comfortable position.
It was a bright Friday afternoon, the sun shone perfectly upon the world and birds happily followed the raise of the sun tweating freely in the days air.
But clenched to a pillow, in a dark and empty aparment layed a scared and fragile man.
A sweet man.
The kind of man where his smile could brighten a pitch black room or his singing would bring people to there knees, a man that could make you smile without even saying a word, a man that was full of passion and hope.
A man that never realised any of this.
The kind of man that carried alot of anger and pain, a man that would lash out and scream until his lungs were dry, a man that wasn't affraid to throw a punch or drink a little too much.
A man that let his anger push away the soft side of him.
The kind of man that refused cry.
It wasn't long until the small room got darker and still layed in the centre of the room upon his bed he sat. Hair flowed over his shoulders as he sat cross legged, the glimpse of red light that could be seen through the darkness was caused by a half burnt away ciggarette that was placed between his lips. He turned his head, more of his hair hung over his shoudler as he glanced at the digital clock upon his bedside table.
9:15pm.
A groan emgered from the man as he cautionsly pulled himself from his bed, butting out the remains of his ciggarette, his thin frame stood in the darkness, he had seemed to be focused on the window in front of him. Shaking his head strains of hair flew into the air, tho the window was covered by an old sheet he had put up a while ago something behind it made him curious and it had scared him. With feet dragging along the ground he made his way into the tiny packed kitchen, the tiles were cold agaisnt his feet but once again he paid no attention. Leaning down he reached a hand up and slowly opened a small cupboard door, watching his hand disappear into the black mass he soon pulled it back out, his fingers wrapped around a clear bottle. Not bothering to move from his spot, he twisted the lid of the bottle and let it slip from his fingers, making a almost tapping noise as it hit the ground and bounced away. His eyes followed the small cap boucing along his tiles of his kitchen floor and finally coming to a stop near his fridge, the lack of light had made it hard to see if it had actually rolled underneath, but decided it wasn't worth moving for so he simply rested himself agasint the cupboard.
As he sat on his kitchen floor in the middle of the nights darkness, his head tilted back and with his knees brought to his chest he wrapped his lips around the neck of the bottle and let the smooth beverage slide down his throat. Clenching his teeth he immediately hissed as the liquid burnt slightly, but before long his lips were once again wrapped around the neck of the bottle, the burning sensation eased and soon the sweet taste of vodka filled his tastebuds.
He took another swing of the liquor that was wrapped in his hands, he was sure it must be around 11 by now, the room had taken full darkness execpt for the line of light that shone through a gap in the kitchen window. It flowed through the open curtins and broke into a thin line that made a small circle on the white tiles, filling the room with a dim shade of light. If you were to walk into this room you'd probably see fine after your eyes adjusted, but as he laid on his back gazing at the ceiling above the small circle of light did nothing to help him see the atmosphere that surrounded him, the sweet liquor had already blurred his vision.
Quiet humming echoed the tiny apartment, a soft and unusual tune seemed to escape through his lips and dance along the lonely halls of his place. It was suprising to hear anything fill the quiet walls of the apartment when usually all that lingered inside was nothing but dark rooms and creaking wood. A light tapping noise followed the soft tune making it more intense and upbeat, with one arm behind his head he continued to lay upon the kitchen floor doing nothing but gaze at the ceiling and letting the nearly empty bottle dangle from the tips of his fingers, causing the bottle to sway back and forth making contact with the porcelain tiles.
A wondering mind in most cases would be somewhat very dangerous to some, and in this case that was exatly what it was.
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