Here’s another short story I was playing with. This one isn’t my typical writing. It’s a bit darker.
Also, like I’d said earlier. These are fresh out of my head and without the benefit of an edit. So please forgive the grammar and typos that probably are sprinkled through them.
In the darkened entryway, Matt could scan the monochromatic nightmare before him. The constant nocturnal drizzle started, creating a staccato rhythm, the hallmark of Matt’s existence. His world gathered the darkest recesses of the street, where shadows crossed and recrossed until the darkness sucked all pleasure into its void. His emaciated body shivered continually, the cold seeping into his being. He touched the bruises on his throat from a john who wanted ‘something special’, and promised to pay extra. His hair was longer, lanky, he struggled to look as young as possible. At eighteen, Matt sold off the only thing left, himself.
The screams of ‘faggot’ and ‘queer’ from his parents to his news still haunted his dreams. He’d tried other family members, people he thought of as friends, but rejection became his constant companion. To feed himself, he’d sold off his few possessions one by one. He’d held out, longer than most. With the passage of time his hope left and betrayed himself.
His first time, he’d whored himself for a few bites of food. The sour taste of cock and cum lingered for days as he’d contemplated how much it would hurt to die. He survived and forced himself to live through each time afterwards. Each day lowered him deeper inside the stygian abyss of his life.
A vehicle stop, the whir of an electric window descending. He dragged himself upright in the doorway, marketing his shirtless body. He stumbled forward but was cut off as an androgynous form with bleached blond hair slunk to the open window.
The kid crawl into the dark SUV, the tinted glass gliding up to hide whatever happened inside its cavernous interior. He stood, hope washed away as the cold rain ran down his pallid skin. He hobbled back to his doorway. Wondering…