Here is my first short story (First written and first published). Link to where it was published following the story.

A wisp of smoke crept into the atmosphere as the lick of an orange and yellow flame set the white tip on fire. Purple, maroon, and pink splattered across the evening sky as the sun dipped behind the horizon.

I closed the cap on my lighter, extinguishing the excited flame. The bum before me sucked on the newly lit cigarette like a straw in a milkshake. He exhaled the white smoke and stared at the ground, rubbing his old ragged shoe against its filthy surface. The smoke penetrated my nostrils and glazed over my nasal cavity as I sighed at the poor man’s appearance.

Honking car horns shattered the silence and I whipped my shoulders around to face the disturbance. A white Honda Civic skidded to a stop behind a blue Toyota Corolla. The driver in the Civic flipped up his middle finger and screamed profanities at the top of his lungs. The driver of the Toyota didn’t seem to pay them any mind.

I returned my attention to the homeless man, ignoring the dispute behind me. I plunged my hands in my pockets and shifted my weight to one side. The bum had on a tattered brown trench coat. The coat hung on scrawny but sturdy shoulders, while the guy’s chest supported a heavily soiled pastel T-shirt. His blue jeans had almost turned black from countless dirt stains and lack of washing. The stains seemed to have been soaked into the fabric due to an assortment of precipitation and perspiration.

A few pedestrians walked by, or around us, avoiding the stench of the man in front of me. The guy’s face was covered in hair like a grizzly bear’s. He wore a red baseball cap that he probably found in the garbage somewhere.

I soon grew tired of observing this man smoke in peace. I had work to do so I moved closer to him and said, “Come on pal, ya hungry?”

I placed my arm over and around his shoulder, but soon removed it. His collar was sticky and his skin felt like sandpaper. A thin, translucent film clung to my bare forearm. I frowned up my face and wrinkled my nose, gagging to the side as I motioned for him to walk foreword. The shelter-less man nodded his head in gratitude, a tiny cloud of dust and dirt bursting from his scalp and invading my lungs. I could taste the gritty residue and almost vomited from the disgusting substance.

The sun had almost completely disappeared as we neared a local diner. We came to a street, but the Do Not Walk signal halted our stroll. The bum inhaled on his cigarette one last time before plucking the stub into the street. The blunt stick hit the road and sparked into flares when a rubber tire barreled over it. The road sign conveyed a large Walk signal so we proceeded.

The giant golden arches to McDonalds beckoned us to enter. I pushed open the shiny glass door and held it for my “friend.” He sat at a table while I ordered a trio of cheeseburgers for us. When my food was ready the cashier tossed my order on the counter and I grabbed the inviting container. I went over to the table and sat down with the bum, taking out the food. I slid a burger over to the homeless man and unwrapped my own soggy fried meat. I opened wide and sunk my incisors into the edge, pulling off a chunk and chewing. The bread melted in my mouth and the meat squished against my molars. The combination of salt and fat triggered a tasty pandemonium of bliss upon my taste buds. I looked up and saw the bum scarfing down his burger like a hungry African lion feasting on a petite antelope.

“So why are you being so nice?” asked the bum between swallows.

“You’ll see,” I replied casually, taking another bite of my burger.

The inside of the restaurant smelled appetizing. The aroma of french fries and milkshakes filled my nose and overwhelmed all the other scents. Busy city workers scurried about, rushing down their food and chatting briefly amongst themselves before exiting to hurry home to their families. The table had an array of crumbs scattered across its face, but the street dweller did not seem to mind. He started on the second cheeseburger and looked up, a sparkle in his eye.

“So what do you do for a living?” asked the bum, swallowing another wad of food.

“You’ll see,” I replied with a smirk on my face.

I completed my meal and so did my company, so we stood to leave. I almost put my arm around him again, but instead I let it dangle, using my other hand to point to the door. He walked past and I noticed that he had left a slimy residue in the chair where he had sat. My mouth hung open in surprise and I shuddered. I didn’t know how I would deal with this guy. I pretended not to notice though, needing to stay on the bum’s good side for a little while longer. I had to jog to catch up with the guy, holding the door politely for him yet again.

We re-entered the noisy, bustling city and started walking for a place that he knew nothing about. The sun had vanished, scared away by the watchful moon. I walked relatively close to the stranger, listening to the melodic pitter patter of his shoes. It sounded like money to me.

After some time I started to notice the guy’s pungent odor. I decided to walk a few steps in front of him, breathing through my mouth to eliminate the mighty stench. We weren’t far now.

“Where we goin?” asked the bum.

“You’ll see,” I replied routinely.

We walked down the dingy cement sidewalk to a rather deserted portion of the city. This was not a place any sane person would want to be. Police sirens echoed in the distance. Birds would even stop on the outskirts and turn back. The tree’s themselves were spooky and seemed to dare you to walk close enough for them to devour your frail body and soul.

The bum and I stopped in front of a giant, antique, warehouse-like building. The windows had been covered up with black trash bags that fluttered furiously in the wind. The main door was halfway off, hanging by a single hinge and slowly swaying to the rhythm of its own music.

“Are you sure this place is safe?” questioned the bum nervously. He grabbed his arm and looked over his shoulder.

“You’ll see.”

We walked up the wooden steps that moaned under our weight like a dying old witch. We crossed through the threshold and into a hopeless darkness. A foul smell coursed through the room and fear possessed the homeless fellow. He turned to run, but the entrance had disappeared. Our eyes soon became useless in the claustrophobic darkness. The hairs on our necks were standing so far on end that they felt like they would jump from their follicular chains. The orange and yellow glow of my lighters fire danced and cast shadows across our environment. I put my fingers to my mouth, shushing the quivering bum and motioning him to follow me.

We traveled down a long corridor. The light projected eerie wavering images on the walls and floor from the dirty furniture and odd ornaments. Suddenly a figure appeared and the bum attached himself to the outside of my arms. His rough frigid epidermis startled me and I jumped slightly. I rolled my eyes and contorted my face after I realized that it was he who had touched me.

The figure in the distance took form. His pale brawny body sported a semi-automatic machine gun. Sun glasses covered his eyes for no reason, except to protect him from the psychotic darkness surrounding us. He had on a gas mask that made him look like some sort of science fiction chemical war soldier.

I nodded to him and he lowered one hand to open a door that was behind him. The wooden blockade groaned and creaked but soon stood all the way open. The most putrid stench ever smelled by a human nose, bubbled out the room and slapped our little triangle like a pimp slaps his hoe.

“What’s in there?” muttered the bum, trying to get a better look.

“You’ll see,” I said, grabbing his arm and shoving him inside.

He stumbled down a set of steps and nearly fainted. Hundreds of other bums worked tirelessly on various machines. A vast assembly line pit spanned the size of a soccer field. A rather large and smelly sweatshop was in full swing. Guards, similar to the one at the door, wore masks and overlooked the workforce, regulating the homeless men and telling them what tasks to carry out. A dim light buzzed at the top of the ceiling. The smell was so thick and nasty that it created a hazy layer of mist around the light.

The angry bum spun around and bound up the steps toward me, fury blazing inside his eyes. Like the aftermath of a nuclear attack. I smiled, slamming the door in his face.

“Now you see!”I clapped my hands together rather satisfied, another bum was mine.

The scum of the country would never be missed by anyone, so why not do what I do? I tapped the guard by the door, Kevin, on the shoulder and went to my office. I sat at my desk, shoving my nine millimeter pistol to the side so I could look over the progress report. Sales were up 20 percent in the last 3 months. My illegal weapons factory had never been more successful.

I had to think of something to do, and I had to think of it quick. The bums were growing restless. Some of them had been in captivity for over 9 months. I didn’t know when, but I knew they were planning something. I gave them too much time to sleep. But I needed them to do something and I needed them to do something quick. An example needed to be made before the whole shindig went awry. My debt was almost paid, it would only take a few more months now and I would have them off of my tail.

http://illogicalmuse.blogspot.com/2009/06/youll-see-part-one-by-jeremie-guy.html