I found this paper in an old box in the back of my closet along with a pen in Old York. It' a good thing Mama taught me how to write. but i don't have anything to write about or anyone to write to. i don't even know why I'm writing this nonsense. I'm just wasting trees.
then again, maybe some one will find this and wonder who i am and what i do.
maybe.
I'm Michaela Riley. i clean out houses. When Strauss "negotiates" with someone, i go and clean out their house and make it look like they never lived there in the first place. After that, i take their stuff to Strauss and they "filter" it and "Confiscate" the stuff they like. After that, i either hide the rest in TrashMan or i take it home. I'm not really a member of Strauss. it's just a job, an honorary position (Plus Stryker fancies my sister). I'm not really in any gang, now that i think of it. Even though everyone else is. i forgot to mention that my sister, Carrie, is (was) in Strauss.
Even though i work for the richest gang in the city, We're still poor as triple-recycled dirt. Me and Carrie live twenty stories from the ground. i have to travel sixty stories to get to headquarters and even then after they filter, i still only get enough to pawn for a Paket meal and the odd protein shot for Carrie. Needless to say i scrounge off the food supplies at Strauss. it's usually a can of vitamins here, a bag of chips there; but i make it last as long as i can.
The only reason Carrie isn't out doing gang-related stuff is because she has some kind of stomach illness. It has to do with hanging out where the pollutes are. She's been bedridden for awhile now. Sometime i wonder if she'll die and leave me by myself.
Today i found something that might help Carrie. I was poking around in an old refrigerator when i saw a jar half-filled with green liquid. i opened it and smelled something sour and acidic. so i shoved it in my Mountain-pack and ran home. When i showed it to her, she got excited and said pickle juice was good for preventing stomach diseases. She drank half and gave the rest to me. I don't think she'll die anytime soon.
I met a fallen angel today. he's sleeping right now. I'll tell you what happened. I was making my way home with my bag full of stuff when a shadow passed over. i looked up and saw a bird falling in a circle. it was weird because don't live in the city. they usually live out in Trashman. Then as it got bigger, i realized it was a falling person with wings. I looked over the edge of the street and saw it was a straight drop down. About 93 stories down. by that time the angel wasn't spiraling and was dive bombing. i reached out to catch him as he fell when he grabbed my chest! (only later did i realize that he just grabbed the strap to my Mountain-pack, but still). We both started skidding to the edge when i grabbed the rusted piece of guardrail. it almost broke when he shouted at me to let go. I wondered if he was crazy, then i thought, he's an angel, he won't die. so i did. we spiraled for a few minutes, then he steered us to a lower sidewalk. we tumbled head over heels on the rough, cracked cement (i have a scrape on my elbow to prove it). I felt something lopsided and loose on my back so i looked back to see the strap of my pack was broken.
"You broke my Mountain-pack! They don't make these anymore!" I yelled at him. He hissed and lunged at me, covering my mouth as he pinned me to the ground.
then again, maybe some one will find this and wonder who i am and what i do.
maybe.
I'm Michaela Riley. i clean out houses. When Strauss "negotiates" with someone, i go and clean out their house and make it look like they never lived there in the first place. After that, i take their stuff to Strauss and they "filter" it and "Confiscate" the stuff they like. After that, i either hide the rest in TrashMan or i take it home. I'm not really a member of Strauss. it's just a job, an honorary position (Plus Stryker fancies my sister). I'm not really in any gang, now that i think of it. Even though everyone else is. i forgot to mention that my sister, Carrie, is (was) in Strauss.
Even though i work for the richest gang in the city, We're still poor as triple-recycled dirt. Me and Carrie live twenty stories from the ground. i have to travel sixty stories to get to headquarters and even then after they filter, i still only get enough to pawn for a Paket meal and the odd protein shot for Carrie. Needless to say i scrounge off the food supplies at Strauss. it's usually a can of vitamins here, a bag of chips there; but i make it last as long as i can.
The only reason Carrie isn't out doing gang-related stuff is because she has some kind of stomach illness. It has to do with hanging out where the pollutes are. She's been bedridden for awhile now. Sometime i wonder if she'll die and leave me by myself.
Today i found something that might help Carrie. I was poking around in an old refrigerator when i saw a jar half-filled with green liquid. i opened it and smelled something sour and acidic. so i shoved it in my Mountain-pack and ran home. When i showed it to her, she got excited and said pickle juice was good for preventing stomach diseases. She drank half and gave the rest to me. I don't think she'll die anytime soon.
I met a fallen angel today. he's sleeping right now. I'll tell you what happened. I was making my way home with my bag full of stuff when a shadow passed over. i looked up and saw a bird falling in a circle. it was weird because don't live in the city. they usually live out in Trashman. Then as it got bigger, i realized it was a falling person with wings. I looked over the edge of the street and saw it was a straight drop down. About 93 stories down. by that time the angel wasn't spiraling and was dive bombing. i reached out to catch him as he fell when he grabbed my chest! (only later did i realize that he just grabbed the strap to my Mountain-pack, but still). We both started skidding to the edge when i grabbed the rusted piece of guardrail. it almost broke when he shouted at me to let go. I wondered if he was crazy, then i thought, he's an angel, he won't die. so i did. we spiraled for a few minutes, then he steered us to a lower sidewalk. we tumbled head over heels on the rough, cracked cement (i have a scrape on my elbow to prove it). I felt something lopsided and loose on my back so i looked back to see the strap of my pack was broken.
"You broke my Mountain-pack! They don't make these anymore!" I yelled at him. He hissed and lunged at me, covering my mouth as he pinned me to the ground.
