Black and White

title of your story

Prolouge:

I used to regret my choices. Dream of having friends, dream of growing old, but non of this shit will ever fucking happen. Life is just too harsh for anyone.

My life for example, was a wreck. All hell broke loose right around the day I was born. My mother died giving birth to me, already dead before I was...out...

Anyway, dad hated me for it. Simple, but yet, so complicated. Resented me. Told me I was an accident. I knew I was, but it still hurt to here. I only friend I ever had was Stellan Avalon.

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Chapter 1:

I grabbbed my skinny, cylinder bag and slung it over my shoulder. I did this, almost every day. Someone had gotton my a reputation around here. Meaning I got a whole side of a building to myself.

pulling my hood up and tying the bandana around my face under my nose, I made my way down the alley.

The warm sun was creeping out fr4om behind the cold dark clouds.

Why was I doinng this in the daytime? Because I can only see black and white.

Long story short, I was abused from when I was about 5. One night I took too hard of a blow, and now all I can see is black and white, plus the shades in between.

I was what my aunt called a hood rat. Calls me out on it every day. I keep telling myself: At least she doesnt hit me.

Some of you guys must be wondering what the fuck I'm doing. I'm tagging.

And for those of you who are little wossies and have no idea what this is, it is basically vandalising.

Screw it. I do what I want.

I looked up from the ground, seeing if there was anyone to back me up. And there was.

A hooded guy, a few inches taller than I was. Hot with a skateboard.

I cleared my throat, that being the sign on the street someone needs to be covered. He turned to see me, but I couldnt see his face. I decided I wouldn't try and i began to start where I left off yesterday. Adding the nessisary colors and streaks, I finished the tag.

When I had finally finished, I looked at the blonde in the picture. One of her eyes were blue, and one pink. She had her hair to the side, with large bead things on one side. On her upper bare arm, showed a capital A with wings. The backround was a mix of colors I had forgotton.This was what I pictured my mother to look like as a teenager, with a couple of changes.

I turned my head to make sure I didn't have a cop on my ass, and I didn't it was the hooded guy. He stood next to me and looked at my picture.

"You know, you are pretty good," he said. Even his voice was yummy. But I still couldn't see his face...the hood made everything about him a mystery.

"You know, you shouldn't be talking to me," i said and startedd cleaning up my spray paint bottles and paint brushes.

"And why is that?" he asked.

"You are supposed to be my look out, not my aquantience."

"What if I was doing both?" he asked and I could here the smile in his voice.

"Impossible. Now get out of here before we bboth get arrested,"

"I never get caught." he stated.

"I have to go." i said and slung my bag over my shoulder once again. I pulled my hoodie up, cuz it had slipped off of my head.

"Why wear the bandana? Not into having a little fun?" he called after me, but I just flipped him off.