|166 Manchester Street
Author: phoenix-shalimar PM
The street can be a lonely place. It can also be dangerous, frightning, exciting. But always lonely. Promises, she alwasy promises not to go back. But she always does. Rated T for content.Rated: Fiction T - English - Angst/Tragedy - Ming Ming - Words: 1,138 - Reviews: 1 - Published: 01-20-08 - Status: Complete - id: 4022547
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Ok hello all, it is i Phoenix here again. Back with another one. I got this idea a couple hours ago and it is now 2:18 am and im still up. Had too much sugar Lol.
This isn't at all like my other ones i have recently written. So i hope it doesnt offend anyone.Disclaimer: I do not own Beyblade or anything else for that matter.
Warning: The topic in here may not be suitable for everyone so i warn you if the thought of prostitution disgust you then please dont flame or dont read cos prostitutes are real and there not going to go away if you just shut your eyes.
Song: The song used in this fic is not mine, and no i did not write it. One of my best friends wrote it and i am just borrowing it. It is copyrighted by Tinkerbell and Jupiter. Please do not use the song for yourself.
Dedication: This is dedicated to Tinkerbell, for being strong enough to get out of prostitution while you could and finding yourself a respectable job. I'm sorry i wasn't there to help you and that hurts me greatly that i wasn't but im not going anywhere now. I love you always Tink.
Go forth my duckies.
Ming Ming lay curled in a ball huddled in the corner as tears leaked from her eyes. She promised herself that it would be the last time. Last time. But she knew that no amount of promises to herself would make her stop. She hated doing it, felt weak and pathetic. Dirty and disgusting. But at the same time she felt a thrill of passion, a spark of adrenalin. And then guilt, unashamed guilt. And always the morning after pill. The STI checks every week.
No one would ever have thought that Ming Ming Pellow, once famous pop star and blader. Would ever have to resort to selling herself on the street every night. She had earned a reputation. Everyone always wanted her. Male, Female. It made her feel sick. It made her feel loved. She wondered what everyone would say if they saw her now. If they saw her at her lower than low point. Would they laugh? Be disgusted? Pity her?
Raising her head Ming Ming's eyes widened in surprise as she slowly got to her feet and found a sheet of clear paper and a pen. Her muse, who had deserted her years ago suddenly came back full force. Wiping her tears away she started to write. They always say write what you know. Thats exactly what she did.
A few hours and several thousand screwed up paper balls later Ming Ming finally sat back suddenly feeling like her old self again. She picked up the paper infront of her and read through it. Suddenly satisfied with what she had written Ming Ming let out a smile. One she hadn't let out in ages.
At 20 years old Ming Ming had hoped that she would have been able to break out of her sugary sweet pop tart shell and record some of her own written songs. Those songs she destroyed years ago, along with her dignity. Tears leaked out of her eyes as she reached the end of the song. No matter how much time passed she would never be able to become used to being a prostitute.
Already in the three short years she had been selling herself on the street, she has had four abortions and one miscarriage. She placed a shaky unsteady hand on her flat stomach and wondered for the umpteenth time how different her life would be if she had carried the baby to full term. Would she still be working on the street? Would she still be living in a run down apartment complex full of prostitutes and druggys? Would the baby be alright? Would she be able to take care of it?
Ming Ming tried to think back to when everything went so wrong in her life, but she just could not remember what had happened to make her turn to selling herself. She wasn't sure if maybe something traumatic had happened to her. Or if she was rebelling for some reason. Everything before the first time she sold herself was a blur. She may have remembered bits and pieces but not what was so bad that she needed to resort to something so disgusting.
Shaking all the thoughts from her mind she looked back at the paper in her hand. Moving towards the bead she grabbed her guitar on the way. Sitting on the edge the lyrics beside her she started slowly strumming. Her guitar was the one thing she would never ever destroy. It was far too precious.
After fiddling around with different chords Ming Ming finally settled on a slow haunting tone and began to sing quietly.
Frozen, bleeding on the inside Sliding on her skirt, Starting tonight, Frozen, moaning away the pain A friend, alone Starting tonight, Frozen, Falling down the rabbit hole, Starting tonight
Misery, drowning in the sudden wake
I take it back,
Flickering lights, moving behind
As she goes alone,
This is your last time.
It's a beautiful night to lie.
'Try to reclaim,
Your life of rotten shame'
Sanity once said to me.
Naked within her home
Protecting those whom she doesn't know,
Losing, its impossible.
Floating down, down, down.
It's a beautiful night to cry
Molding in the cracks,
'You'll be fine, open wide, get down'
Insanity lied, as I've found.
Losing all control,
Her frozen morgue skin,
And the stale story within.
It's a good time to….'
Sliding on her skirt,
Frozen, moaning away the pain
A friend, alone
Falling down the rabbit hole,
Placing her guitar on the ground Ming Ming took a deep breath as she moved slowly to her closet to change her clothing before she went out to stand on her corner. Tears slid down her cheeks as she remembered the pale lifeless form of her best friend lying cruelly on the slab of metal all alone. She had been murdered harshly by a client of hers.
Ming Ming feared that she would get that same client. Yet she still pulled on the clothing that clung like a second skin, and plastered on the makeup that would hide the shame and guilt. And with a few last adjusments to her hair she stepped back from the mirror and left the apartment it was just another working night on 166 Manchester street.
Ok so there it is, im sorry if it offended you but please dont flame me if it did, i did warn you at the begining.
So please tell me what you thought, good or bad. Just no flames please this is a delicate subject to me.