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It was a glaringly bright morning. The sun hit the snow outside Thomas' bedroom window and glowed in through his eyelids. He opened his eyes wide and stared at his hand, which was lying right in front of his face. This wasn't like the other days; this was a day worth waking up for. He pulled his left leg to the edge of the bed and let it fall to the floor. Slowly, he raised his torso so that he was sitting up with his right leg stretched out in front of him. Looking at the blue sky, he felt something that he hadn't experienced in a long time. The feeling was hope. Thomas walked unsteadily into the kitchen to get something to eat. He wasn't used to the feeling in his stomach, it wasn't hunger. It felt like he was about to audition for the Red Hot Chili Peppers to take Flea's place, it was that intense. He had decided last night that today was the day he would escape. He knew where he was going to go, New York City. Isn't that where all the great musicians were? Thomas had this vision in his head that propelled his urge to go to New York. He imagined accidentally meeting someone in a struggling band who would be looking for someone just like him. When they heard him play, they'd be so impressed, he'd be accepted into the band right away. He also wanted to get into the brilliant music scene in New York, hanging out at open mic nights and sitting on red velvet couches in artists' cafes. He would become a part of the underground subculture of indie musicians. After a few years of the indie experience, his magic band would break into mainstream successes and they would become famous and tour the world.
Thomas packed his clothes quickly, he didn't have very many. He opened the top drawer of his white dresser and pulled out a small wad of bills. Thomas had been saving money for this since he was a boy. He had been planning to run away for a long time. Counting it up, he found he only had about $500. "That's enough." Thomas said to himself. He picked up his backpack and bass, flipped his black hair off his brow, and walked out of the house. His father was at one of his washout friend's houses that day. Whenever he was visiting someone, he didn't come back for hours, sometimes days. He knew his father wouldn't even perceive that he was permanently gone for a couple of days, and by then, it wouldn't matter. When he reached the end of the front walkway, Thomas paused and turned to face his house from the sidewalk. As far as Thomas was concerned, that was the last time he'd ever see it. He went to the bus station and bought the cheapest ticket he could get to New York. It was a very long trip and he was leaving at three o'clock that afternoon. He'd be greeting the city's skyline at dawn. Looking around nervously for any familiar faces, Thomas took a seat on the flimsy bench. He didn't want to see anyone he knew, it could ruin his escape. At last the New York Bound bus pulled into the terminal and Thomas stood up with his belongings, ready to leave. Getting onto the bus made his feet feel like they were made of air. He ambled to the back row and sat next to the window. When the bus finally began pulling out of the station minutes later, Thomas' chest felt like it was hollow and there was yellow light bursting inside. If someone had sat down next to him at that moment and he had had to say something, they would have surely been blinded when he opened his mouth because the light would be freed and come streaming out.
The night passed with streetlights, road signs, and darkness. Thomas was lying back in his seat with his head leaning on the glass. He lazily followed the objects with his eyes as they passed by. Around four in the morning, the sky started transforming from blackness to grey. Everything outside the bus was grey for what seemed like forever. Thomas hadn't slept at all the entire ride. Suddenly, he caught sight of the New York City skyline. The sun had been almost at the horizon, but now its edge rose above it and made the Chrysler Building shine. Thomas was in love with the city. This was where he belonged, where he should have been born. What a different life he would have had so far. 'I'm here now.' Thomas thought to himself, breathing out with a sentiment of liberation.
It had been an hour since Thomas had gotten off the bus. He was walking towards a cheap motel which a stranger had directed him to. He turned the corner and there it was, Motel Manhattan. It was four stories high and made of dilapidated red brick. All the windows were small and old, the once-white painted window frames were chipped so much they were almost entirely down to the original wood. He walked up to the front door with an uneasy expression on his face. He'd never checked into a motel in his life. The man sitting behind the worn-out counter looked like he had been up playing cards all night. Thomas blinked at him and mumbled, "I'd like a single bedroom please." "What!" The man bellowed back in a hoarse voice. "You gotta' speak up, boy. These ears don't work so well." "A single bed, sir, a room." Thomas managed to say it with a bit of confidence thrown in. "Oh, ok. How long you want that for?" the man asked. Thomas looked at his running shoes. They were worn-out like the counter in front of him. He hadn't considered the time issue yet. 'Once I'm in New York everything'll be fine. I just have to get there.' He had thought to himself. Now he was here. "Well, boy? It's $40 a night and you gotta' pay in advance." "Just th-three nights for now, sir." Thomas stuttered. After paying $120 plus tax, the man went into a back room, fumbled around a bit, and came back with the key to room 225. When he opened the door to his room, a musty smell mixed with lemon-lime wafted out at him. He went in and threw his stuff on the bed. He immediately ran into the bathroom, he had been holding for a long time. After, he quickly inspected the tiny beige room. Opening the blinds, he saw that he had a reasonably good view of the street. It was a pretty seedy part of Manhattan. He walked over to the bed and knocked his backpack onto the floor. He had left his bass leaning against the wall. The lumpiness of the mattress didn't affect Thomas at all because he fell asleep almost instantly, exhausted from lack of sleep.
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Karis
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Comments
Beaituful ( Applause) Ogemdi Ike | Jun 11th, 2002
Hey, Karis, This just isnt fair. Lets hear the end of the story...!
hahahaha Karis | Jun 11th, 2002
you people!
*shakes head*
you make it up...otherwise I'll have to write a whole NOVEL!
I agree with qnp Jennifer Hall | Jul 10th, 2002
You are a good writer! I really, really, want to hear the end!! Write the novel, Karis!
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