Captured: Chapter 1
Summer was considered, by many college students, to be a time for drinking, partying, and having a care-free attitude. It was summer, after all. There were no classes to attend, no homework to scribble down five minutes before class, and no exams. Summer was party season, and the little house on the corner of Greenway and Norton Rd was no exception.
The air pulsed with a deafening beat. Music had been blaring from the little blue house on the corner since six o'clock and the party-goers had no intention of turning it down. Inside, bodies formed what would appear to scientists as a giant, gyrating amoeba. The air was hot and how these young adults could stand to be so close to each other on such a hot night was anyone's guess. The fur of everyone there was plastered down with sweat and spilled beer. Beer bottles clinked and the frothy goodness was going everywhere.
A rather rowdy male tipped his beer bottle and poured the contents all over the white blouse of his dance partner. The amber liquid splashed over her round breasts and she howled with drunken laughter. The male laughed heartily along with her and searched for a place to dispose of his now empty bottle. In a drunken haze, he felt an open window was as good as any garbage can and with a quick toss, threw the brown bottle out the window, into the summer night.
The beer bottle landed with a crash next to a limp form on an aging porch swing. The sound jolted the young raccoon to consciousness. She sat upright in the swing, causing the swing to sway underneath her. Holding onto the chains attaching the swing to the porch, she tried to steady herself. Her eyelids were half-closed in a drunken fog. Another loud bang came from nearby, this time, from the front door as it was kicked open by a trio of inebriated males. They all had their arms about the others shoulders, laughing and carrying on as they tried desperately to figure out why all three of them could not fit through the front door together. Finally squeezing through, they stood on the porch, taking the last few swigs of their beer. One male, a heavyset bear, looked over at the little raccoon sitting slumped in the porch swing.
"Hey there! What are you doin' out here all alone?" His slurred speech was accompanied by the strong smell of alcohol and cigarettes. As if to prove his status as a smoker, he pulled a pack from his pocket and with some difficulty, pulled out a long stick and lit it. The small raccoon looked up at him. He wore a leather jacket and tattered jeans. Pulling the cigarette from his lips, he let out a plume of gray smoke.
"I'm waiting for my ride." She wasn't sure how long she had been out here. In all honesty, she didn't even remember walking outside. Last she knew, she had been throwing back a shot of tequila. "What time is it?" She looked down at her watch, but the hands blurred into the face of the clock.
