Writing Exercise: City Life

[StillStunned]

It's that time again. Another Writing Exercise! This time the theme is City Life.

Describe an urban scene. A real-life city, present day or historical. A city from your favourite fantasy world, with elves and minotaurs and godlings. A cyberpunk city of the dystopian future. A city among the stars, or a city where stars go to retire. Underground or under the sea or on a rock in the Asteroid Belt or one of Jupiter's moons. A city at war, or on fire, or in celebration, or all three. A city of perpetual night, or perpetual winter, or perpetual silence. Brick or concrete or steel or glass or the bones of dead ancestors. Whatever you want.

The usual rules apply. It only has to be a snippet. No introduction needed, no conclusion. In medias res is fine, but you can begin in medias mediae if you want. Just write the interesting bit. Keep it short: no more than 250-350 words. Don't write anything that wouldn't get published on the story side: nothing underage, no bestiality. Stick to the spirit of the site's publishing rules.

Have fun!

 

[StillStunned]

Far below the neon lights and the hovercars and the silver dragons, down in the dark alleys between the skyscrapers’ roots and the transport tunnels, that’s where you went for a party. That’s where the goblins lived, and the dwarves, and the strange things from the sewers that gave off fumes that could show you Heaven or Hell.

16B had a brand new fake ID and a small stack of silver punch cards. New glasses, too, that showed whatever eyes he wanted to show. He chose elven eyes for tonight, angled and narrow and glowing lavender to match his hair.

The journey down was always the trickiest bit. Worrying about whether his dads would find out he was gone and come after him. Avoiding the Queen’s Patrols on their hoverwings, just looking for an excuse to rough up a spoiled kid from High Diamond Towers and toss him into a cell for the night. Not getting lost on the mid levels, jumping from plexiglass chutes to steel carrier belts.

Once he was down in the Warrens, though, he could relax. Buy a bottle of something that fizzed with a dangerous green light and sidle up to a goblin girl.

“You and me?”

She looked him over, taking in all the telltale signs of a visitor from Upper City. “You buy, I’ll get you in.”

She led him to a heavy sliding door. Beyond, 16B could hear the typical thumping of goblin music, like his heart pounding in his ears after he’d spent an hour in the exercise pod.

A hard-faced goblin bouncer punched two discs out of his silver card while another slid the door open. Heat and noise and smells hit him as soon as they slipped inside. Bodies were pressed together in the dark, writhing with the music or with their own rhythm or desire.

The goblin girl who’d led him in took his hand and dragged him somewhere. His glasses didn’t give him elven eyesight, so he stumbled after her blindly in the blackness until she stopped and pressed him against a wall.

She shouted something in his ear, but he couldn’t hear, but he didn’t care because her hands were clawing at his trousers to pull out his cock.

Yes, down here in the dark, that’s where you came if you wanted to party.

 

[sister jenny]

The houses were all leaning like drunken sailors in a bad wind.
With rotting roofs and doors hanging of the hinges, broken windows, broken bottles and broken souls. It all came together here, a perfect storm of failure. You could taste it in the air, see it in the eyes and feel it slowly killing you while walking into one of the dark watering holes.

Failure and alcohol and smoke was dripping down the walls, the lost souls with the scared look, the tattered clothes and the bad breath, they all gathered here.

There was a hole in the floor, but everyone just stepped over it, if you saw it or admitted it was there you had already lost, because it meant you knew where you were.

You couldn't even see the moon anymore, the mist and yellow smoke from the poor part of town was choking the strands of light coming from the constant night sky.

She was born here and she knew she would die here.
Alone, like everyone else.
Alone in the dark.

 

[onehitwanda]

There's a time, at around mid-afternoon in late Autumn. There's not a name for it, but all the locals know it. At the end of what we'd call a "bright" day, the sun dips towards the west and casts its dying copper rays onto the slow-moving surface of Thames.

And for a moment - just a moment - Faerie returns and London becomes its golden-walled, deep-shadowed Fae twin.

 

[KittyOfSteele]

There is nothing pretty about this place. A lone car vanished at the ruined skyscrapers behind me as I walked south. It's cold; the local hospital looked too dead to be smelling like piss, yet the neon glowed like the night will never end. Four stray dogs followed me. One barked at a homeless man looking for morsels of food in the garbage. The man screamed back at the dog, and hit the floor with a stick.

A pack of green cockroaches in motorcycles ran from south to north. It was a pack of at least thirty pairs of soldiers in them; the ones on the back held the largests rifles I've ever seen in my life. I froze in place, ready to jump back in case they thought of me as part of the opposition, but I'm just a woman who'll soon be part of a circus. A soldier looked at me, and then I felt a tug on my shoulder. I closed my eyes. The motorcycles kept going until they fell silent. Lips stopped sucking my tongue.

A pretty prostitute came out of nowhere and saved me. She had glowing green eyes, with glitter covering the right side of her neck. I noticed a heart-shaped tramp stamp that glowed in the dark.

"That was close, cutie," she said. "Hope you're not looking for treble."

She touched the treble clef I have for a necklace and smiled. Then she opened her hand fully, and got a feel of my breasts, and possibly my heart.

"Nervous about the incoming war?" she asked.

"Would you call a war when the opposite side is outnumbered and outgunned?" I sighed. Red lights glowed not too far from here. "I take it you come from-"

She immediately put her finger between my lips. "What are you even talking about?" she grunted. Any seductive tone in her voice vanished in favor for words that felt like a stab.

I apologized, and thanked her for saving me. The Speakeasies will be full of people hiding once the elections turned out rigged. Better look somewhere else.

 

[Bazzle]

The rain beat down on her flimsy white blouse. Drops flowed off her nose. Her hair stuck to wet face. Her make up travelling down her cheeks. Deep down Rachel knew that she should have checked the weather forecast before setting off. Chance of showers. It was too late now. She was walking to work after getting off on the wrong tube stop.
Four escalators later and it dawned on her. She made a decision. It was quicker to walk than go back down.
Rachel really didn't need a coat or an umbrella at the right stop.
Here she was, the grey sky matched the grey buildings that matched the a grey floor.
Her subtle pink bra was red through her now translucent top.
She stopped to wait for the green light, to cross the road, a black cab drove through the puddle depositing it on her.
Crossing the road, she reached her door.
It was Saturday morning and it was shut.
Salty fears flowed down her cheeks as she turned and trudged through the crowds towards home.

 

[ElectricBlue]

Thunder rumbled, a hollow distant boom bouncing from the hills to the west. Slow drops of rain, first drops like fat drops of blood, hit the pavement.

Adam looked up, glancing at the sky. He looked across the street, seeing six wide windows with three doors in between, set back from the shopfronts in three alcoves. The one on the left had a small table of second hand books by the door, and a vase with colourful flowers.

He paused while a car passed slowly by, then crossed the street. He went to the doorway of the shop in the middle and looked in. She was sitting at a table halfway down the side wall, looking down at her phone. She looked up, saw him coming in, and raised her hand. Adam went to her, leaned down, kissed her cheek.

"Sorry I'm late, honey. Have you been here long?"

"'bout five minutes, not long."

Adam sat down and touched her hand. "Got here just in time. It's starting to rain."

She smiled at him. "It's the first rain in months."

It was Tuesday, and the dry spell was over.

 

[exhaustedinNY]

He kept his eyes down not wanting to meet anyone’s gaze. Too many times in his teenage years he’d heard the phrase “whatcha looking at?!” from strangers in the street and on the subway and he had learned to avoid it. Inevitably, his impatience gnawed at him to look into the dingy darkness of the tunnel to check for the oncoming lights of the next train. Nothing was coming.

AJ leaned against the tiled pillar that bared the street sign, but the stench of piss pushed him away immediately. Stumbling back, he inadvertently stepped on someone’s foot, igniting the fight or flight anxiety inside him.

“I’m so sorry, so sorry,” he quickly rattled off, hoping it wasn’t some angry dude who’d punch first and ask questions never.

“That’s alright,” came the woman’s sweet voice. She touched his arm as if in reassurance and AJ allowed himself to look up at her.

Fuck, she was pretty. In that way that made him clam up and sweat. In that way that made him unable to reply. He just nodded.

She stepped forward, ending up beside him, in the same line of floor tiles as him. Just one square foot away. He spent enough time staring down at them and avoiding eye contact to know that each of the speckled grey tiles was twelve by twelve inches.

“Waiting for the N too?” She asked, making conversation. AJ nodded again, his gaze on her glossy pink lips. Shiny. “By the time this thing finally comes, I bet we won’t even be able to squeeze in.”

“Uh-huh,” he managed to agree with her.

“Whatcha looking at?” She asked him, startling him out of the daze of staring at her lips. Except it wasn’t said with the same force and repulsion that he was used to hearing. She sounded sweet and curious, as if she didn’t know that her lips were mesmerizing. She pressed them together, shifting them back and forth while waiting for his answer.

He would have probably even tried to respond if the train hadn’t blown into the station at the moment.

 

[StillStunned]

(Can I just say here how much I appreciate everyone indulging me with these threads? How many have we had now, about fifteen? Some more popular than others, but generally the participation has been enthusiastic.

I've really enjoyed how everyone brings their own take to the theme, and their own style. Some snippets have been silly, some have been profound, but they've all been fun to read.

I like to think they show off the AH at its best. Thank you all!)

 

[SimonDoom]

The city burst with life all around him, horns blaring, music playing, cars rushing by this way and that. New York, New York. A hell of a town.

But StillStunned, sitting in front of his laptop computer in his hotel room overlooking Central Park, didn't notice. He was plucking away at his keyboard, starting another Literotica thread. Yes, another thread.

"They can't stop me," he said to himself, worrying the maid outside his door who stared at the "Do Not Disturb" sign and wondered about the strange man who never came out of his room.

 

[StillStunned]

The city burst with life all around him, horns blaring, music playing, cars rushing by this way and that. New York, New York. A hell of a town.

But StillStunned, sitting in front of his laptop computer in his hotel room overlooking Central Park, didn't notice. He was plucking away at his keyboard, starting another Literotica thread. Yes, another thread.

"They can't stop me," he said to himself, worrying the maid outside his door who stared at the "Do Not Disturb" sign and wondered about the strange man who never came out of his room.

I feel seen.

 

[Erozetta]

The chill of Boston in winter at night was not something one could ever prepare for. You could walk the main thoroughfares and freeze to death before reaching the T, or you could risk your life ducking behind buildings and crossi g alleyways in the hopes of cutting your walk down and clipping some the wind by staying close to the building.

I chose the latter. I felt safer than average in my hometown.

My long blond curls bounced against my warm and tight grey wool coat as I moved along - not quickly, not slowly, but at a steady and unbothered pace. The sharp heeled silver stilettos with a deep red sole click-clacked atop the stones.

Even the shadows seemed to stare as I walked by.

Then the echo of my steps met my ear. Click-clack-clop. Mmm, something didn't seem right about that, and I smiled. The bright lights made it hard to hide, but I had no intention of hiding. Click-clack-clop. I stopped and another clop sounded. I turned to see her gasp. Oh, I wasn't expecting that. She was beautiful.

Blood red lips, long black hair, and eyes like pools of ice held me firmly in her gaze.

Her shock turned to a smile and she leaned in close to me. "I really like your shoes," she said, her voice so softly sweet.

I tipped my head and smiled. "And I really want your eyes," I replied.

"Wait, what?"

"Like... Like your eyes..."

"That's not what you said..."

"God, I'm so bad at this..."

She laughed. "I'm supposed to be the one being creepy and here you go wanting my eyes..."

*Can I be the stalker next time?"

"I don't know if I'm comfortable with that now."

"I meant to say like!"

"Oh you're never gonna live this down..."

 

[UsuallyPresent]

Joe woke, wrapped in a messy tangle of blankets, as the trash bin behind the store across the alley crashed back to the pavement. The heavy, piercing whine of the dumptruck's motors echoed against the canyon-like walls. Eyeing the projection in the corner of the ceiling, he saw the trashmen were early this week.

Squirming his way free of his blanket-nest, he shivvered in the chilly air. Damn landlord kept the heating low all winter, and there wasn't anything to help with the summer heat. Cheapass tenement in the semi-bad part of town. With long-perfected skill, he ignored the sounds and scents of the neighbors. Rialtos had some garlic again last night, dammit.

Stepping quickly across the chill tile flooring, he got to the throw rug he'd scrounged up, much more comfy on the feet. Stretching, careful to avoid bumping anything in the tiny room, he turned the shower on. In, hit the lather, rinse, and out. The brief lukewarm spritzing didn't do much to warm the room, but he'd need the saved hot water off the meter later to handle his laundry.

He slipped into a work jumpsuit before strapping his boots and belt on. A quick check confirmed everything was latched down properly, so he exited the room and tripped the three locks on the door before stepping off, back into the workday commute.

Only another week before his next day off...

 

[UsuallyPresent]

John felt the sphincter squeegee the working goo off him as it deposited him in the changing room. Hawking up the load left in his mouth, he spat the thick loogie in the recycle bucket there just for that purpose. A prick and a little blood popped his cubby, letting him grab bodywash.

A quick washdown got rid of the last of the goo, off to be stripped of useful whatevers and used however they did. He didn't want to think about it, it always killed his appetite if he let himself stew about it.

He chuffed a bitter laugh. Stew. That was almost funny.

Hot air and swiping hands dried him enough, so he belted a robe on and ambled out to the cafeteria. A dozen or two people were there, mostly getting their rations or starting to get them inside. Looks like they were issuing logs of stuff today instead of stews or sandwiches. Didn't much matter - tasted the same whatever it looked like.

Breaking a piece off his log, he chewed the stuff as he went over and settled on the bench across from his brother, Rob, and sister-in-law Judy. Rob's robe was tied tight, as he always did, but Judy's was loose on her. She'd always been a bit of an exhibitionist. Not much was said - comments on data quality and flow rate being down this last period, idle rumors about this manager or that new project - as their loafs of stuff got devoured.

Rob shook his hand as they got up and Judy gave him a hug before he walked back to his changing room. The robe got sucked back into the recycle bucket and the sphincter sucked him back into the goo for his next shift.

 

[Rob_Royale]

I don't usually do a sex scene for these, but I couldn't resist.

Cathy let her mouth fall open as she felt the young mans fingers slide beneath the gusset of her bikini bottoms. His lean, muscular body pushed hers against the wall of the bar. How many people had fucked in this alley over the years? She wondered. She gasped as his fingers found her honey-hole.

“Oh, yes.” She moaned, urging the young man on. His hot breath on her neck felt amazing. Geez, had she even gotten his name?

A trip to Key West after her divorce was just what Cathy had needed. That it happened during the adults-only street party known as Fantasy Fest just made it that much better.

Her sheer beach coverup hung on a screw from a nearby drainspout. Going out for the evening in it and her most revealing bikini seemed the height of exhibitionism and was as adventurous as she’d ever been. But to let this man just lead her out of the bar, admiring his gleaming fit body, was something she’d never have done. She could hear the music from both bars, competing for the attention of passersby, and the wild cries of revelers in the street.

A beautiful, young blonde woman holding a pair of plastic glasses filled with some sort of sweet libation stopped and watched the two of them with a wide smile. The young man was oblivious as he lifted her left leg up over his forearm as the fingers of his left hand slid up inside her. Her eyes glued to the woman at the edge of the alley, she wailed loudly. “Oh, God, yes!” She was so wet, and her heart was racing.

Cathy could feel his hardness pressing against her hip and she wondered if he was going to take her right here in full view of the blonde and anyone else who stopped. She gasped when he thrust forcefully up inside her and she could feel his thumb pushing down on her clit. The blonde grinned and walked towards them. Cathy’s eyes went wide.

“I can’t leave him alone for two minutes.” The blonde said as she admired the two lovers. “He does love the MILF’s, though.” She set one drink down and caressed the young man’s back, while lifting the other drink to Cathy’s lips.

“Drink up, sweetie. Duval Street is Partytown tonight, and the three of us have a long night ahead of us.” She pulled the glass back, leaned in, and kissed Cathy’s wet lips. “Now, cum for me.”

 

[StillStunned]

A lot of these snippets seem to be quite dark, so I thought I'd try something light and breezy.

===

The final league to Rivermouth was the lightest of our entire journey. Our feet fairly flew over the ancient flags. Weariness and worry slipped from our shoulders and were left in the dust behind us. For once, the road truly did seem to rise up and meet us.

The Tower of Archra stood on the horizon like a beacon to guide our way. Its square sides and domed roof called out to us like our mothers’ arms, welcome and familiar and encouraging.

Slowly the rest of the city emerged too. More towers, the Hill of Prayers, the massive Gatehouse, the tall cranes on the docks huddled together like old men gossiping about their wives. The great walls that protected Rivermouth and its people from enemies, that had been the shield that broke the elven armies again and again.

And finally, the gates, those wonderful, wide gates, thrown open as if to welcome us home.

“Home.” For a moment I thought I’d spoken aloud, until I realised it was Oggie. His face showed the mixture of strain and relief that I myself felt. He caught me looking and grinned. “We made it.”

“We made it.” I grinned back. “Tonight I’ll hold my daughter in my arms again.”

That was all we needed to say. We continued our way in silence, lost in our own thoughts and dreams.

We were perhaps half a hundred paces from the gates when I realised that the silence hung not only over us. It hung over everything. By now we should have heard bells clanging in towers and along the docks. We should have heard the hum of life in the city, the blend of voices and rumbling carts and lowing cattle and clattering hooves and slamming doors and a thousand other sounds that were as familiar as the blood pumping in my ears.

My feet faltered, and I found myself halting, halting and looking, truly looking at my home.

It was dead. The only sign of life was a carrion bird, black and evil, that flapped its wings and flew to meet us. It opened its beak and gave a single cry.

“Dead!”

 

[UsuallyPresent]

A lot of these snippets seem to be quite dark, so I thought I'd try something light and breezy.

===

The final league to Rivermouth was the lightest of our entire journey. Our feet fairly flew over the ancient flags. Weariness and worry slipped from our shoulders and were left in the dust behind us. For once, the road truly did seem to rise up and meet us.

The Tower of Archra stood on the horizon like a beacon to guide our way. Its square sides and domed roof called out to us like our mothers’ arms, welcome and familiar and encouraging.

Slowly the rest of the city emerged too. More towers, the Hill of Prayers, the massive Gatehouse, the tall cranes on the docks huddled together like old men gossiping about their wives. The great walls that protected Rivermouth and its people from enemies, that had been the shield that broke the elven armies again and again.

And finally, the gates, those wonderful, wide gates, thrown open as if to welcome us home.

“Home.” For a moment I thought I’d spoken aloud, until I realised it was Oggie. His face showed the mixture of strain and relief that I myself felt. He caught me looking and grinned. “We made it.”

“We made it.” I grinned back. “Tonight I’ll hold my daughter in my arms again.”

That was all we needed to say. We continued our way in silence, lost in our own thoughts and dreams.

We were perhaps half a hundred paces from the gates when I realised that the silence hung not only over us. It hung over everything. By now we should have heard bells clanging in towers and along the docks. We should have heard the hum of life in the city, the blend of voices and rumbling carts and lowing cattle and clattering hooves and slamming doors and a thousand other sounds that were as familiar as the blood pumping in my ears.

My feet faltered, and I found myself halting, halting and looking, truly looking at my home.

It was dead. The only sign of life was a carrion bird, black and evil, that flapped its wings and flew to meet us. It opened its beak and gave a single cry.

“Dead!”

Oh so light & happy! *golf clap*

 

[riverboy]

1954. New York City.

The sidewalk ran straight but the woman in front of me was all curves. Hips smooth and round, an ass that wiggles with a kick each step she takes. An exclamation point, every step. The secretaries on the street are all in dresses and skirts but she’s in slacks, finely milled brown wool that’s thin, thin enough to see right through if it came from a nylon machine and not a sheep.

She’s good on her high heels, confident in her gate, subtle shifts side-to-side to dodge dirty flesh-colored bits of chewing gum and a pigeon-pecked half a hotdog that someone dropped. Me, I wasn’t so lucky, picking up a sticky mass of chewing gum on my sole because my eyes couldn’t leave her ass. Shouldn’t. Wouldn’t. Couldn’t. She’d gotten into my head, this one. This morning walk to work, this parade of men in suits and hats, this parking of cars at the curb, Studebakers, Chevrolets, an odd round one called a Volkswagon, all of it was a blur today because of this woman, this stunning sexual being I was following. I was lost in the dream of her. Her ass. My cock. The way they’d fit together.

I awoke in a hospital room three days later, my wife telling me I’d been hit by a car while walking to work. A few witnesses had told the police I’d looked as if I was in a trance as I crossed the street, those in front of me able to scurry away, myself and another man hit. He wasn’t hurt badly. I had a few days ahead of me in the hospital, days in which I began to remember, days in which I decided I’d do it again, for to follow such a woman is to understand what living is all about.

 

[StillStunned]

Oh so light & happy! *golf clap*

I tried, and failed.

 

[TarnishedPenny]

Very short this time. A criminal in my The Tall Open Window story is cornered and takes a hard way out.


I wasn't ready for her to launch herself at the window beside her. That tall open window drew her like a canary seeing an open door to its lifelong cage.

She didn't make a sound for 12 stories, not a whisper. It was very quiet for about four endless seconds, then the street and the dogs and the car horns and the birds and the alarms outside all began to scream on her behalf.

 

[UsuallyPresent]

In the beginning, that piece of land gained a track that people took between two other places. Eventually a third place tied into that track, creating the simplest of crossroads.

Mimi Dunn followed one of the paths through that crossroad and, being sick of having neighbors, decided to bring her family out there to build anew. Their shack of branches leaning against a big old birch was the first building there. The well they dug, the second, and the outhouse the third.

Geoff Pardee liked the land there, too, and set up a big tent on another corner of the nascent city. Mimi wasn’t happy, but Geoff had a small forge he ended up building and the nails and other ironwork he produced was helpful.

Geoff got robbed by a ‘free trader’ who slit his way through the tent wall, but Mimi’s hound kept him out of the ever-growing lean to at the heart of her farm. Geoff hired Abe Scratch off a passing wagon to try and keep that from happening again. When Abe got away with several of Geoff’s key tools Geoff was heartbroken, leaving the forge behind as he left for some other place. Mimi’s second oldest set up shop on Geoff’s old claim, eventually putting out more nails, latches and the like.

It took many years of trials and sweat, blood and tears, but eventually Dunnham incorporated as a city.

 

[PapaRomantic]

I climbed the stairs at the 42nd and Broadway subway station. With each step, I could hear the symphony of the city becoming louder and louder. And then with the last step accomplished, I was there! For a country kid from Kansas, I was overwhelmed with the orgasmic explosion of sensory input! I had arrived for the start of my two-week vacation in the greatest city in the world!

I looked up at the shining towers of glass and steel that pierced the deep blue of a clear New York sky. I squinted as the intense flash of the sun reflecting off the windows assaulted my eyes. I looked around me and was swarmed up in the rush of busy people living their best life in the city that never sleeps. The distinct chords of the various types of vehicles on the busy streets were making a song like I’d never heard before. I was swallowed up whole by the scene around me. I had two weeks of this milieu that stretched out before me. How could I ever be happy with the sedateness of a quiet Kansas gravel road again?

I was overwhelmed! I had to share my excitement with someone! A native appeared as he turned the corner and walked my way.

“I’m so happy to be here! I love this place!” I shouted at him.

The pain from his ferocious shove that sent me sprawling to the sidewalk was nothing compared to the pain of my shattered excitement.

“Get the FUCK out of my way, stupid asshole!”

Oh…

Uh…

I looked around to see if anybody was coming to help me up, but found no one. I dragged myself to my feet, brushed off my hands, and looked around again. All I saw was the dingy gray of the buildings and the dirty sidewalk. All I heard was the roar of the noise of people trying to avoid each other.

Now what was I going to do for two weeks?

I missed my cow……

 

[StillStunned]

This one is a bit less bleak. A tram ride in Amsterdam, from Fun with Fingers:

===

The tram was a big blue-and-white affair. The stop where we boarded was near the beginning of its long journey to Centraal Station, and there was plenty of room for us to sit. So of course we stood, holding on to the steel uprights to keep from falling over as we made a sharp left turn, then another to the right and one more to the left.

I preferred to stand. I'd been sitting all day, it seemed. First in the plane, then in those uncomfortable chairs during the presentation. Besides, I wanted to see as much as I could of the city.

Mel wanted to stand because she could keep an eye on the men, and bend forward to expose her cleavage when she caught them staring. Nicola just smiled and said she was happy either way.

The early part of the ride was dull. Of course it was. The outskirts of a city like Amsterdam are never very pretty. Shabby post-War apartment blocks and shabby turn-of-the-millennium office blocks. Cars, bikes and pedestrians. Lots of traffic noise, loud music and shouting teenagers. The mood was cheerful, though, like the whole city had been waiting for the sun to show its face and now everyone was determined to make the most of it.

People were certainly heading into the centre. At every stop more passengers boarded, and soon we were squashed together. A student who couldn't be arsed to take his pack off his back bashed it into an elderly gentleman's face, and stared blankly when the other passengers berated him before returning his gaze to his phone. A mother was yelling at her children to stop yelling. A man in a dark suit was talking loudly into his phone in the stilted version of English that so many Dutch speak.

And still more people crammed inside. It was getting stifling, the atmosphere thick. Occasionally a hint of fresh air would slip in through the narrow window and tease us. I swear, I saw one man biting at the air like a dog. The temperature outside was rising, but inside it was soaring, with dozens of people packed together while the sun blasted down on our self-inflicted metal prison.

 

[UsuallyPresent]

This one is a bit less bleak. A tram ride in Amsterdam, from Fun with Fingers:

===

The tram was a big blue-and-white affair. The stop where we boarded was near the beginning of its long journey to Centraal Station, and there was plenty of room for us to sit. So of course we stood, holding on to the steel uprights to keep from falling over as we made a sharp left turn, then another to the right and one more to the left.

I preferred to stand. I'd been sitting all day, it seemed. First in the plane, then in those uncomfortable chairs during the presentation. Besides, I wanted to see as much as I could of the city.

Mel wanted to stand because she could keep an eye on the men, and bend forward to expose her cleavage when she caught them staring. Nicola just smiled and said she was happy either way.

The early part of the ride was dull. Of course it was. The outskirts of a city like Amsterdam are never very pretty. Shabby post-War apartment blocks and shabby turn-of-the-millennium office blocks. Cars, bikes and pedestrians. Lots of traffic noise, loud music and shouting teenagers. The mood was cheerful, though, like the whole city had been waiting for the sun to show its face and now everyone was determined to make the most of it.

People were certainly heading into the centre. At every stop more passengers boarded, and soon we were squashed together. A student who couldn't be arsed to take his pack off his back bashed it into an elderly gentleman's face, and stared blankly when the other passengers berated him before returning his gaze to his phone. A mother was yelling at her children to stop yelling. A man in a dark suit was talking loudly into his phone in the stilted version of English that so many Dutch speak.

And still more people crammed inside. It was getting stifling, the atmosphere thick. Occasionally a hint of fresh air would slip in through the narrow window and tease us. I swear, I saw one man biting at the air like a dog. The temperature outside was rising, but inside it was soaring, with dozens of people packed together while the sun blasted down on our self-inflicted metal prison.

Only differently bleak, IMO. Good writing, but emphasizing some of the major negatives associated with cities.

 

[PennyThompson]

Jeez, not sure what kind of cities y'all live in

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I tapped my card as I stepped into the half-full bus, grabbing one of the side seats near the front.

Across the aisle was a small young woman, cute, mousey, big round glasses, overalls.

She was holding a paper bus map in one hand, her phone in the other, pretty brown eyes flicking between them like they contained the secrets of the universe. She was chewing on her lip and jiggling her leg, practically radiating anxiety.

Her whole body jostled and bounced with every bump and turn, sometimes having to grip the rail next to her to keep her balance.

"First time taking the bus?" I asked, trying to sound helpful and non-threatening. I wasn't much bigger than her, but I know I look like a bad butch bitch, and I wasn't exactly dressed like a tour guide.

"Oh!" She squeaked, looking up with a start. "Um. Yeah. I just arrived here yesterday, for college."

"Okay, so first off, you don't need that schedule. This is the BRT line. Electric rapid transit, a bus comes by every stop every eight minutes, you don't really need to stress about missing your ride."

I got up and stepped across the isle, sitting down next to her, keeping a respectful space between us. She smelled nice, lilac or something. I probably just smelled like cigarettes.

"You don't need to worry about bus passes either," I said, motioning to the flimsy little paper card she was clutching along with her phone.

"You can just tap your debit card or your phone we you get on. It's got fare capping too, so you won't accidentally overpay."

"Oh wow, thanks! Um. I'm Sadie."

"I'm Margaret. I work at Thousand Holes, the record shop in the U district. Right by the campus entrance, actually."

"Oh wow, do you collect vinyl?" She asked excitedly.

"Sure, I even listen to them sometimes," I said with a grin.

"My girlfriend got me a Sabrina Carpenter album on vinyl, as a going away present. Right before we..." The college girl sniffled. Poor kid was clearly homesick, and possibly freshly single.

She swiped at her eyes, then had to readjust her glasses awkwardly. "Anyway, she gave me this album, and it's amazing... The cover art is so cool, and the record is clear and swirly, not just black! But I don't actually have a record player, so it's more of a collectible, for now..."

"Want to hear how it sounds? On a good system like mine, it'll blow your little airpods out of the water."