Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > If I fall... (missfunghoul57's request)
Belleville was a small village, gradually progressing on its way to becoming a town but it was miles away from that yet. Surrounded by woodland and rields, Belleville relied highly upon the quantity of harvest from the agricultural areas on the dirt tracks that expanded out into the far off corners of the village.
Mikey walked on up, away from Gerard's cosy cottage to the small ridge on the South of Belleville where the school used to stand for the small, unnesscessary time it had existed. Not a year back, after the war began, the school was demolished to make way for the new Town Hall by order of a certain Officer Andrews of The United States Army. Since then, children were sent off to schools in nearby villages and towns. Alongside the Town Hall, flowed a considerably large river which lead off to the dirt track of the remaining farms. Some were still farming industries, others were skeletons of the building they used to be. After most agricultural men left to fight overseas, no one was there to occupy that land so the remaining farmers took in the abandoned sheep, horses, chickens, pigs, cows and the like. In the cantre of Belleville was one grocery shop, used to be two. One pub, used to be three. The police station, a doctors surgery and a few rows of houses nearby. Belleville was dying with half of the population gone, most dead, others lost at sea. It almost made Mikey want to stay. But he couldn't. There was nothing worth living for here without his girlfriend.
My name is Michael James Way. I am twenty nine and I am going to join up for the army.
Mikey rubbed his temples with elongated, skeletal fingers, closing his eyes and calming down before entering the building. The noise that hit him was like a slap to the face, like a flood heading for him, like an out of control fire. It billowed across the room, each conversation drowning out the others and each sentence getting more feverent each time.
Adolescent boys were huddled everywhere, gossiping hurriedly and spouting out anything that came to mind. Mikey bit his lip and sat silently on a very uncomfortable chair, he squirmed in discomfort and waited to be called up, looking around the room. Portraits of Presidents littered the two side walls and the back wall had the national flag tacked up, the stars and stripes shining boldly in all its American glory.
Boys came, boys left. Some ecstatic that they'd got in, others sulking at the idea of waiting another year before they could serve their country. An officer sat himself in front of Mikey, a form in his rough, large hands and he smiled from beneath his bushy moustache.
"What's your name m'boy?" He boomed, still beaming like a maniac.
"Michael James Way, sir." Mikey mumbled.
"Stand up."
Mikey did as he was told and the officer looked him up and down.
"You're a bit scrawny m'boy, but I can offer you a job on my farm. Five months should suffice to build up enough muscle on you."
"Thankyou sir..." Mikey whispered, taking this all in. The officer scribbled on some spare paper and passed it to Mikey. The adress of the farm was scrawled upon it in spidery lettering.
"And it's Officer Andrews by the way, m'boy." He said, clapping Mikey's shoulder supportively. "I'll see you at my farm, tomorrow then?" He asked, nudging the application form toward Mikey who nodded madly, signing his name in consent without reading a single letter of the small print.
And just like that, Michael James Way signed away his foreseeable future.
Mikey walked on up, away from Gerard's cosy cottage to the small ridge on the South of Belleville where the school used to stand for the small, unnesscessary time it had existed. Not a year back, after the war began, the school was demolished to make way for the new Town Hall by order of a certain Officer Andrews of The United States Army. Since then, children were sent off to schools in nearby villages and towns. Alongside the Town Hall, flowed a considerably large river which lead off to the dirt track of the remaining farms. Some were still farming industries, others were skeletons of the building they used to be. After most agricultural men left to fight overseas, no one was there to occupy that land so the remaining farmers took in the abandoned sheep, horses, chickens, pigs, cows and the like. In the cantre of Belleville was one grocery shop, used to be two. One pub, used to be three. The police station, a doctors surgery and a few rows of houses nearby. Belleville was dying with half of the population gone, most dead, others lost at sea. It almost made Mikey want to stay. But he couldn't. There was nothing worth living for here without his girlfriend.
My name is Michael James Way. I am twenty nine and I am going to join up for the army.
Mikey rubbed his temples with elongated, skeletal fingers, closing his eyes and calming down before entering the building. The noise that hit him was like a slap to the face, like a flood heading for him, like an out of control fire. It billowed across the room, each conversation drowning out the others and each sentence getting more feverent each time.
Adolescent boys were huddled everywhere, gossiping hurriedly and spouting out anything that came to mind. Mikey bit his lip and sat silently on a very uncomfortable chair, he squirmed in discomfort and waited to be called up, looking around the room. Portraits of Presidents littered the two side walls and the back wall had the national flag tacked up, the stars and stripes shining boldly in all its American glory.
Boys came, boys left. Some ecstatic that they'd got in, others sulking at the idea of waiting another year before they could serve their country. An officer sat himself in front of Mikey, a form in his rough, large hands and he smiled from beneath his bushy moustache.
"What's your name m'boy?" He boomed, still beaming like a maniac.
"Michael James Way, sir." Mikey mumbled.
"Stand up."
Mikey did as he was told and the officer looked him up and down.
"You're a bit scrawny m'boy, but I can offer you a job on my farm. Five months should suffice to build up enough muscle on you."
"Thankyou sir..." Mikey whispered, taking this all in. The officer scribbled on some spare paper and passed it to Mikey. The adress of the farm was scrawled upon it in spidery lettering.
"And it's Officer Andrews by the way, m'boy." He said, clapping Mikey's shoulder supportively. "I'll see you at my farm, tomorrow then?" He asked, nudging the application form toward Mikey who nodded madly, signing his name in consent without reading a single letter of the small print.
And just like that, Michael James Way signed away his foreseeable future.
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