A New Life

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Holding one of the highest populations on planet Earth, Brooklyn is home to a very diverse group of people. Everything from Hispanics, to Blacks, to Italians, to Polish, to whatever resides here. The income brackets vary so much here that it makes Brooklyn the perfect city to turn a hustler into a millionaire without leaving the block.
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Marvin Fickle
Posts: 12
Joined: March 7th, 2016, 12:25 pm
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Location: Telluride

A New Life

Post by Marvin Fickle » August 13th, 2017, 4:50 pm

"Marvin Fickle? Nope. The name doesn't ring a bell."

"Fickle? Well, I knew a guy back in the days who's name was Nicklaus, but Fickle? No."

"Marvin Fickle? What kind of a name is that anyway?"

"Good", Fickle thought to himself, left the train station behind and blended with the crowd.

It hadn't really been a hard choice, although saying goodbye to everything you know and hold dear does hurt. By leaving Telluride he had spat on his grandma's grave and dragged the family name in the dirt. The Fickles had been living in Telluride since Jesus wore hot pants. But things had to change.

That last beating had not only broken his nose, but any last milliliter of pride in his body was divided aswell. And the very last drop was just about enough to tie a rope around his neck and have it snap. But he wouldn't do that. No. Marvin Jeremiah Fickle had been called many things in his days, but a quitter wasn't one of them. He wasn't a looser -- although many a man would seem confident arguing that point.

The morning after the beating he had woken up under a pine tree, his body itching with mosquito bite marks. Bruises, a black eye and the taste of iron in his mouth. He'd thrown his guts up - an involuntary offering to the furry forest king with great horns.

He didn't remember the details, but he felt like shit. Vague pictures of himself running through the forest crying, screaming, ripping his hair out, eating bark had been running wild in his head.

Killing himself would perhaps be the only honorable thing to do. But Marvin Jeremiah Fickle wasn't like his father. He wouldn't go down that road. Instead he would get the fuck out of Telluride. For good.

As he sick sacked through the crowd in the street, he felt worse than ever. The money he'd stolen from one of the hookers at The Black Lock had all gone to whiskey and train tickets. Now he had nothing, just like before, the balance was settled once again. He looked at the commercials on the tall buildings around him and felt his stomach scream. Just like on TV.


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Requests:

Marvin Fickle to have moved from Telluride to Brooklyn, now currently roaming the streets like a stray dog.

(I know that before Telluride was a non-exit place, but as that instructional text no longer exists I took for granted that that idea has been sacked. Why I now try to get the poor drunkard out of there to try his luck somewhere more crowded.
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Shorty
Posts: 147
Joined: August 31st, 2015, 10:59 pm
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Re: A New Life

Post by Shorty » August 14th, 2017, 12:40 am

Hahahah!!
Go for it bud!
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"KEEP CALM AND CONSULT THE CODEX."

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