From Borussia With Love

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fuelledbypassion

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From Borussia With Love

Chapter I - The Bitter Sweet Symphony

​
The skies opened as Klopp fumbled around for his house key, stumbling inside and crashing to the floor in a rain-soaked, contorted heap. The weather was indicative of his mood, although the stench of alcohol served well to mask it. He slumped into his leather sofa and grabbed at last night's pizza box. Empty. The idea of ordering another takeaway was depressing, his room was already littered with half eaten tv dinners and empty bottles; a consequence of his recent divorce. Klopp reached for an old kebab, two days laid to waste and already hardened to a crust. It's smell suffocated the room, but his beer fuelled conscience and growling stomach resisted it's heady
warning. He took an elaborate bite. The stale bread lingered in his mouth like an unwelcome guest, sapping the moisture as he slowly chewed. This wasn't his first mistake of the night. He opened his jaws again, releasing his arid throat from the clasp of tortuous boredom.

Klopp's head collapsed into his hands like a lead balloon. How had he come to this? What was happening to him? Less than a month ago he was celebrating a domestic double with his beloved Dortmund. Only weeks back he was flaunting two trophies in his hometown parade, lauding his players ahead of the European Championships. Just hours earlier he was applauding his new signing after a scintilating display for his country. And yet, for all this triumph, he still felt deflated. The manager raised his tiresome frame stubbornly before sinking back into the leather chair in defeat. The effects of a two week bender had eventually caught up with him, and his eyes closed wearily in submission. He'd had far too much to drink and would be sleeping on the sofa again tonight.
______________​

I'm planning this to be a very interactive story, whereby the twists and turns will be based loosely on the decisions of the readers (if there are any!). I usually write more than this, but have decided that smaller updates will hopefully mean that they are more frequent, without taking away from the core elements of story writing. I hope you can follow and share your opinion :)
 
Sounds like one of my usual saturday nights lol. Very bleak opening...like it though
 
'Readers if there are any' lol good one your storys are one of if not the best to follow, As I always do i'm following.
 
Your writing has improved tenfold since your first story on here. As always, I'm a keen follower.
 
Sounds like Max Payne in the 3rd installment :P started it last night, similar imagery!

nice writing and good story so far..
 
From Borussia With Love

Chapter I - The Bittersweet Symphony​

Klopp awoke with a groan as his mobile buzzed violently by his side, grasping at air in an attempt to repress the noise and soothe his throbbing head. The tone was gentle and melodic, but it's high pitch still pierced his eardrums like the chilling wind of a bitter winter's eve. He reached again in desperation; erratic swipes bundling the device to the floor, but the ringing continued. The disgruntled manager rolled his eyes in disgust, clamping a cushion firmly over his ears and praying for this misery to end. The sofa's rich leather hide moaned in discontent as he tossed and turned, resisting an uncomfortable embrace with his sticky skin with each movement.

And still, the ringing continued.

Klopp rolled to the floor in defeat, crashing to the ground in a drunken mess. His phone had beaten off the very worst of hangovers.

'Hello', he answered in an exaggerated sigh.

'Jurgen, where are you?' an agitated voice murmured in reply. 'Do you know what time it is?'

The manager studied his watch carefully. His arm was shaking from last night's alcohol, but despite taking a moment to focus, his eyes accurately registered the dial.

'Eleven Fifteen', he responded brashly.

The voice came back at him stronger and more defined, he'd clearly struck a nerve. 'And where are you? Why am I enduring a police interrogation on your behalf? And on my first day back! I suggest you get down here...Now!'

Klopp bolted upright in disbelief as a blue light flashed across his eyeline. The police were outside his home, and he had no recollection of last night...any night for that matter. He closed his eyes, sinking lower into his sofa as the phone call continued without him. What had he done?

'Get a taxi and take the south entrance to the ground. Keep low, out of sight. The press are all over this already', the muffled voice continued in the background. It was Michael Zorc, Borussia Dortmund's director of football and club legend. He was a good man and one of Klopp's closest friends.

'It's too late, they're already outside'.
 
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Amazing as always, I honestly think you should write books lol I would buy them.
 
I need a lot more updates for this mate! Do you have previous stories of a similar vein which I could check out by any chance?
 
stevesteve said:
I need a lot more updates for this mate! Do you have previous stories of a similar vein which I could check out by any chance?
Click to expand...

Started this a while back, but it never really left the ground because of work commitments. I'm not gonna be updating every day but am hoping for 2+ a week at least. Should update tonight...
 
I wouldn't say that this is the best story on the forum, but its definitely in the top one.
 
From Borussia With Love

Chapter I - The Bitter Sweet Symphony

​
Klopp awoke abruptly as another drunkard was brought in, kicking and screaming like a man possessed. Almost fourteen monotonous hours had passed since the manager's arrest, and there remained no sign of cavalry. He paced the small cell over and over, desperate to escape the stench of alcohol that followed him like a stray hound.

'How can anyone survive in this place?' he questioned, shaking his head in disbelief as his thoughts circled his mind.

Even at the height of summer, the prison block was cold and dark. It's dank walls cast an eerie grey shadow as each guard passed, closing in around Klopp until he could barely draw breath. He felt trapped; a caged bird unable to spread his wings, if only enough to preen them. His bed was a solid concrete, scantily clad with sheets and a blanket - the most uncomfortable he'd ever known. He had seldom slept, yet all he could do was keep trying. Imprisoned for just one day and already craving the next drink. How had he come to this? His hardened face and forlorn, glazed stare already hinted at the abandonment of hope.

'Dortmund, you're up', ordered the duty guard as he rattled a baton along the prison cell bars, startling the manager into a frenzy of excitement.

Klopp tried to hide it, but his infectious grin shone brightly through those deadpan looks. 'Any news is good news', he mused.

He followed the guard carefully along the labyrinth of hallways and corridors, all the while running scenarios through his wandering mind. Perhaps it was his former wife, here to save the day and take him back with open arms? Maybe Michael or the Dortmund lawyers coming to put an end to all this nonsense? He dared to hope again.

They came to a stop outside a private room, and Klopp was gently forced inside as the door slammed shut behind him. He immediately caught sight of a table and seated figure as his chest began to tighten, and a torrent of saliva flushed his chasmic jaw. His agitated sigh went unnoticed, yet the gulp that followed shattered the silence like a stone through glass. Suddenly, he'd remembered...
_____
​
 
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