Generation X

Prologue

Hello all! This is my first story so please be nice; I’m dreadfully insecure. :)

***

Prologue

Patent black leather heels clacked purposefully against the dark asphalt. The long lengths of her legs were concealed in a synthetic black fabric called ‘liquid leggings,’ emphasizing their profile. The dim light being given off by the flickering street light bounced off the ‘leather’, creating shapely shadows as she paraded down the street. A black leather bandeau helped her to regain some sort of modesty as it bound her chest in an almost censor like bar. Her hair was dyed a shocking shade of pink, and was held up in a messy bun with the aid of a pair of mismatched chopsticks- one was a dark cherry colour whilst the other was steely metallic grey and glinted mischievously in the dim lighting. The bright pop of colour sharply contrasted against her make up of shadows and pallor.

The brown irises of her eyes stood out against the black liquid liner and dusky eye shadow. She brought her slight fingers to eye level, where she held a small black device, easily distinguishable between her white fingers and black lacquered fingernails. She gave the device a good squeeze, causing it to flash with a blue light. It flashed about three consecutive times before stopping. It was then, after it had stopped, that she silently clipped it to the outside of her décolletage, where it seemed to melt right in, impossible to differentiate from the black fabric of the bandeau.

Her tongue slipped out to wet her lips as she continued to march onwards, legs crossing over one another as though she were on her own personal runway, strutting her stuff for the whole world to see.

Turning sharply down a rundown, cobblestone alley, she stalked between the neglected backs of buildings before coming to a stop in front of a large, unmarked, black painted metal door. Evidently, the door had been painted over many times, what with the paint bubbling in some places and stretched in others. However, she did not have much time to inspect it, for instantly, as though expecting her arrival, a pair of dark eyes slid into view from behind a small slot hammered in to the door.

“What do you want?” a deep voice barked after a moment of inspection.

“To get to Narnia,” she smiled, taking her supple bottom lip between her teeth and winking mischievously.

The small opening slammed shut, and for a beat, nothing happened. Then suddenly, the entire door swung open, creaking and groaning as it did so. She didn’t shift or jump or anything as it finally swung open, save for giving the raggedy old man a flirtatious smile, which he returned with a grimace.

Behind the door was as spectacular as the front. It revealed nothing except for a rusting metal staircase heading downwards, sandwiched between a pair of dank, slimy cinderblock walls with the name ‘Underworld’ crudely carved in to the block above the beginning of the staircase. She smiled wryly. What an appropriate name.

Descending without any hesitation, she felt many things at the same time. First, was the swift change in temperature. The warm air from outside was unable to penetrate the building’s threshold and therefore offered no displacement for the rapidly declining temperature. Another was the disturbing feeling of eternity snatching at her legs, passing its icy hands up and down the length of her body as she plunged into the darkness below that was so dense that appeared to be solid. Next, was the bass heavy, broody music that, like the temperature and feeling, began to creep is way up her body until her heart was synced with the beat. And finally, was the smell. The air was saturated with the scent of alcohol and sweat, with the underlying sweet and salty tang of human blood.

A second door blossomed in front of her as she hit the last step. As with the first, she did nothing to announce her presence and entered a weakly lit room, already knowing what she would find there.