Hideaway

Liam pushed open the door with his shoulder, allowing some of the blinding snow from
outside to float in, melting to water droplets before it hit the ground. He quickly slipped in and
pulled the metal door shut with trembling hands. For a few seconds, all he did was stand there,
looking at the metal door. His shoulders heaved in a sigh, then he slipped his coat off and set it
on a coat hook a few inches from the door's hinges. Pulling the scarf that covered his mouth
down to his throat and lifting the goggles that hid his face up to his forehead, he shivered once
more. The cold from the blizzard outside had made it into his house, making it extremely cold.
Brushing his coat off, he walked over to his heater and turned the dial to maximum heat. he'd
turn it down later. He snuggled into a small bed with a large comforter and blanket stuffed in the
corner and looked around his house.

It was a pathetic apartment, but it was also the only one available in the Manhattan RIM
District. It was made of two Reefer shipping containers welded together on the lengthwise sides
and a gigantic hole cut in between, allowing for one to have about 102 square feet of space
inside. A door was also carved in on the side, which opened into a carpeted area that had a desk
and computer to the left, a small bed and dresser with a television to the right, and the large hole
leading to the next shipping container directly in front. Through the hole was a kitchen, with a
sink, oven, microwave and cabinets to the left and a bathroom to the right. The bathroom was
walled off, with a thin cloth partition in a doorway to the far right of the wall. Inside the
bathroom was also a linoleum floor, with a toilet directly to the left of the cloth partition and a
shower occupying the corner next to the toilet. The shower has an opaque plastic partition that
opens up at the corner of the nearly-square shower, and cabinets are built directly next to it.
Inside are towels, washcloths, and extra toilet paper, with a small hamper in an open slot at the
bottom, where some dirty clothing was lying in. A special plaster developed in RIM labs covered
the walls on all sides, creating a gloomy grayish-white layout for the entire apartment. Small
bulbs screwed into the ceiling lit each room with a dim light.

Liam shook his head. His thoughts had gotten so distracted by the bathroom, of which he
was proud of for it's organization, that he'd forgotten to turn the heater down. The apartment had
already grown stiflingly hot, and so he was glad to turn the heater down to a lower setting. He
reached out and twisted the dial, which was right next to his bedside, and he heard the flames
from the gas heater, which was next to the hole in between the rooms, diminish and quiet. He
then slipped out from under the frayed blue covers and white woven blanket, opened his dresser,
and reached inside. After a few seconds of searching, he found what he was looking for: the
DVD for "Toy Story." For him, Pixar movies never got old, and he slid it into a slot in the small
10-inch by 12-inch television set that sat on his dresser. He slid back under the blankets and
pressed play, watching the previews begin.

He missed his old home in L.A., back where it didn't snow and was nice and warm all the
time. He had a picture of him and his parents pinned to a pin board hanging over his desk,
standing outside his first apartment. He had a big smile, and he remembered how happy he had
been to finally be leaving those crazy people. He missed their crazy now. He wished he could
see them again. However, he knew that would never be possible. He was a criminal in the eyes
of RIM, and he could be shot on sight by police if he was found.

So he had moved here, to the area with the densest population in the Manhattan District,
to find his hideaway. No Republic In Manufacturing patrol would ever find him here. He was
safe; safe from the storm, safe from the cold, safe from taxes, safe from RIM.
The previews ended and the movie began. Liam Ashwin smiled, pulled the blankets
covers closer to him, and relaxed.

Introduction

Presenting to the public a collection of the unfinished, not-well-thought-out, pondered but never published, written but ignored, and eccentric works of Leviticus Eli.

Please, enjoy. It took me a bloody long time to find them all.