This story is an experiment, in that, each of the six chapters will be written by six different people, with the only input from anyone else coming from reading the chapters written before. Six styles of writing, six views on where the story should go, and what should happen in it, each responsible only for their own small part. Read on, and see what you think.
Part two will be written by littleblackmariah
Part three by DeadRoseInTheSnow
Part four by CrystallineCarnage
Part five by DeadSkarlett
Part six by WordsCannotHarmMePart one.
It was a hot, dry day in the City. Staying out of the main streets as much as he was able, young Gerard made his way through the dusty, litter strewn back streets of Pheonix, Arizona, trying to find somewhere to shelter from the cold of the night and the fast approaching dust storm. Life was miserable for the young man, living hand to mouth in the poorer parts where he didn't stand out so badly from everyone else. Little did Gerard know it, but he was about to meet his very own savior, in the unlikely form of a short, pierced and tattooed youth, a few years younger than him. Lets go see how they meet.
Gerard was running from the storekeeper, he hadn't MEANT to knock over the rail of clothes into the dusty street, but he was hungry, and tired, and he stumbled, knocking the rack of gowns to the road surface, getting them all dusty, and angering the storekeeper. So Gerard ran, he ran as fast as his tired, aching, underweight body would let him, and he was looking over his shoulder, so he didn't see when he turned the corner, that there was someone right in front of him, until they both hit the floor with a meaty thud, air whooshing from the lungs of both. Glancing up in dismay, he saw the shorter male wincing as he tried to put weight on his right foot, only for the ankle to buckle under him, causing him to fall to the floor once more. Guiltily, Gerard got to his feet, and crept over to the younger man."Sorry, I'm sorry. Please, don't hit me, I didn't mean to run into you, honest mister. I'll help you up, just, please, don't call the cops, I can't handle being locked up again. Please mister.
The young man, startled by this outpouring of guilt and despair, placed a hand on the older man's arm, and, smiling gently, said "Hush now, it's okay. I know it was an accident, I know you didn't mean to knock me over. Listen, can you help me to get home? I think I've sprained my ankle, so I can't walk on it, and I really don't want to call the ambulance. What's your name? I'm Frank.
" Taking Frank's hand, and helping him to his feet, Gerard introduced himself, and, with Frank directing him, piggy back carried him home.