Dreaming and the Art of It (On Hold)

Dreaming and the Art of It - Before - 2

Voila! Chapter Two!

I might seem completely insane when I say it, but I don’t know about this story anymore…

To be quite honest, I’m not very happy with this chapter. And I’m losing interest fairly quickly, so I don’t know how you guys are coping with it. I'm thinking about just letting this one go.

But let’s see! Maybe this is just a case of writer’s block that’ll blow over. :)

UPDATE! I changed up the initial plot to spruce my interest back up, and I'm VERY pleased with what I've come up with! :) So I'm thinking yes - there will be more.

-jennaxxx

Chapter Two

Roslyn:

Unfortunately, those guys weren’t so cooperative as to just tell me – or answer me in any way, actually.

I honestly don’t understand the deal with villains. They could be polite, couldn’t they? We weren’t exactly being very difficult for them.

Okay, so we ran. What of it? They weren’t the ones wearing really cute red heels. Running in boots isn’t exactly painful and problematical.

“You’re incredibly rude,” I said through clenched teeth as the muscular stranger grabbed my shoulder and pressed the gun to my back.

“Shut up,” he grunted, jerking me forward.

The other one had Dominic in a similar hold. Every now and again, he would turn around and give me an apologetic look, but Dom didn’t understand that I didn’t blame him.

I wasn’t being shot at, or carved with a knife – I was fine. Our captors, for lack of a better word, weren’t very rough with us, to my surprise. Yet that small jerk caused me to lose my footing and wobble on my heel.

“Asshole,” I groaned.

Dom looked back with accusing eyes. “What the hell did you do to her?! I swear to god, if she so much has a scratch -,”

“Calm down,” I shushed him, and looked at the guy pressing the gun to me. He seemed rugged, and was so muscled, it was intimidating. But in his eyes there was youth – he might not have looked it from all the wear-and-tear, but he was young. His grip loosened on the gun, and it fell back from my spine. “Can I at least take my shoes off? I’m going to break an ankle if you keep pushing me around.”

He looked to the other man. “Fine,” he nodded. The gun was pointed at me the whole way through it, yet it didn’t unsettle me. I was too focused on the relief of the cool pavement under the skin of my feet. I grabbed my shoes and hung them from my fingertips, smiling. Dominic laughed shook his head disbelievingly at my mood change.

“Shove it,” I snapped at him, and the faint smile on my captor’s face. “You’ve never worn heels, let alone run in them.”

“Then why do you wear them, Rose?” Dom sighed, throwing his head back, but not looking at me. We were back at walking down the street, Dom and the stranger ahead of us.

“I told you,” I sang. “They make my legs look great. Beauty is pain.”

“Whatever,” he snorted. Annoyed, the guy holding the gun pressed it into his side and Dom visibly flinched. “Oi! What was that for?”

“Quiet,” the man said in a harsh, business-like tone.

Dom rolled his eyes. “Oh, I’m sorry. Is it bothering you that I’m talking my girlfriend? Would you like a conversation instead?” I snickered as the guy grimaced back at him. “My name’s Dominic. What’s yours? How’s your day been? Do you like the color blue? You seem like a guy who would like the color blue.”