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Writer
Join Date: Jan 2008
Location: ohio
Gender: Male
Posts: 35
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The Scamper
I'm only 15, and this is only the first three chapters of a story I'm writing for fun. So go easy.
Here you go, the revised version of the first 4 chapters. Please read the whole thing before reviewing.
Chapter 1
Lying on his bed, Blake Connor was reading a story for a book report that was due the next day. Blake resided in a diminutive town in Eastern Ohio. He was a sixth grader, one of the younger kids in his school, approximately twelve and a half years of age. Bored of the story he was reading, he tossed it across the room, discouraged over how lengthy it seemed to be. After landing face up, the title "But not Buddy" glared at him in an ironic way. Feeling indolent, he rolled over slowly and shut his eyes. The clock read only about six thirty or so, (on a Saturday afternoon), but Blake tried to nap during the day the best he could, despite how unsuccessful is efforts generally were. Being a born insomniac, he had wrestled with the issue his entire life. Never apparent of why he had such trouble sleeping, he became frustrated often and it made his life very inflexible and demanding. What others saw as every day tasks were a labor for Blake, being the exhausted adolescent he was. He reflected his state of affairs as a hopeless circle in which he was forced to adapt too. Lack of sleep stressed him out, causing more lack of sleep, which made it worse and therefore stressing him out even more...a kind of chain he thought of it to be.
After about fifteen minutes of incapability to rest, he opened his eyes and sat up. His clothes had been on, and sleeping in his clothes didn't bother him. If anything, taking his clothes off to go to sleep seemed inconvenient, being the sort of person he was. The sort of person who had no problem with putting homework off until five minutes before school is scheduled to start. The sort of person who could grab a can of soda pop to take on his way there in the morning. The sort of person who barely did what was absolutely essential to ponder through the day, simply going through the motions.
Blake walked downstairs to grab something out of the fridge. His older brother Dennis was sitting at the kitchen table. Blake never liked his brother that much. It wasn’t that they were enemies, like most kids and their older brothers, they just had nothing in common and didn’t communicate much. Everyone seemed to find it hard to believe the two were related, which Blake had always thought was annoying. When mentioning his brother to his friends at school, he would constantly hear “Oh, he’s your brother?” Dennis would never go out of his way to please Blake, and Blake knew that. Blake would never go out of his way to please Dennis, and Dennis knew that as well. Christmas was probably the only time the two ever made a spiritual connection. The two never went to church, hardly ever ate together (Dennis wasn’t home most always), and would never have the opportunity to go to school under the same roof. Dennis was years ahead of Blake, in every way possible.
“There’s nothing in the house.” said Dennis, when Blake opened up the fridge. He thought to himself about why he was even bothering to eat. That particular thought worried him. He had remembered seeing something on an educational video in health class that stated that “Not caring to eat was a sign of depressing.” He shrugged off the thought and lowered his head to look around anyway, and saw nothing but old lunch meat. He shut the door and replied “Yeah.” and crossed over to his living room, listening to the sound of the cars driving by outside. He plopped down on the couch and turned the TV on.
Blake and his brother lived with their parents in a small town called ____. They weren’t the wealthiest people in the world, scarcely considered middle class. His father worked as a veterinarian and his mother worked at a nursing home, as far as Blake new. The children at his school had often attempted to make fun of him for being “poor”, but they stopped trying to lower his self confidence when it become seemingly apparent that it was as low as it would ever get. Blake had always considered it his fault for being taunted by his peers. He had made it seem as if he were in fact, poor, which was his fault and his fault only. For example, he would inform his friends of things such as having basic cable, having only one TV set, or not having an i-Pod. The harassment would come in waves, and it seemed to end in fifth grade, which was a relief to him, because he could not stand people talking about his parents and what they did for a living. His parent’s professions never really interested Blake, who had always been too busy trying to figure out what he was going to do with his own life. He had ideas, yes, but he never felt he could be positive. It didn’t particularly bother him, but he had always felt that as his age grew, his dependency on his own choices should as well.
“Could you like, not slam down on the couch like that?” said Dennis. Dennis’s horrible speech style made Blake chuckle in his head. Not even realizing he’d done what his brother had accused him of, he apologized under his breath and flipped the TV on with a nearby remote. Wondering why Dennis always seemed annoyed with him, he stared at the screen with a blank mind. Fox news was on. Some story about a few boys who had been kidnapped in Columbus was being showed. Shaking himself back to reality, he flipped the channel once more. His family could only afford basic cable, and Blake wasn’t ever very interested in whatever was on. If anything, he would prefer to do artwork on his own. Writing comic strips was his hobby, and he kept it as secret as he could, in fear of gender criticism. Another hobby he enjoyed was tennis, something he only was able to do a few months a year, due to the standard weather in his area. It was fall however, and soon he would have his chance to practice and hopefully make a team, something he had considered about doing for some time now.
Dennis stood up and put on a red hat on he’d picked up off the table. The hat had a Cleveland Indians logo on the front, which Blake had never understood, since they didn’t live in Cleveland.
“I’m going out.” he said.
“Where?” asked Blake, not really caring as much as asking for the sake of asking.
Without so much as answering, Dennis picked up his car keys and walked out the door, jingling them in his left hand. Immediately, Blake knew where he was heading. He’d never thought of Dennis as a “jock“, but he’d always been really into sports, particularly basketball. It was no secret to Blake that he was heading for the courts outside of his school.
“Yeah, OK, nice talking to you.” said Blake, nastily, not caring that nobody was around to hear him. He wondered for a minute about where his parents might be. Then he started to think about what he was going to that afternoon, socially. His problem was solved when his cell phone rang. The Soul Assylum ring tone startled him, and he quickly retrieved the phone out of his pocket in a rush. When he opened it, he gazed at the text message he had received. Turns out that a friend wanted to know if he would meet her to see a movie at a nearby cinema. He agreed, threw his jacket on and walked out the door to head to her house, not bothering to ask what the movie was.
Chapter 2
On his way to Maddy’s house, Blake was startled by a dog he heard barking behind him. He turned around, hoping to see a friendly dog he could merely pet and shoe away. Unpleasantly surprised, he saw a mutt with foam oozing from the mouth, ragged hair, and a growling face. The K-nine didn’t look too happy to see Blake.
For a moment he thought “I’ll walk slowly away backwards.” He began to take small steps, facing the dog, staring at the sky. He had remembered reading somewhere that if you’re ever face to face with an angry animal not to look it in the eyes. Well, this dog for sure had rabies, and he needed this strategy. For a moment Blake felt a sense of relief, for he had backed away at least ten feet.
Turned out the “Walking away” strategy didn’t work the slightest bit. If anything, the mutt seemed offended by the lack of fear it saw in Blake’s expression. The dog ran toward Blake, howling angrily. Scared and surprised, he threw his arms out. The dog leaped on top of him in what seemed like a single second. The first bite was nothing more than a punch. The second one, however, definitely damaged his tissue. Blake wondered for a second how deep the bite marks might be, and if the dog would throw it’s head down for a third portion. Without thought, he took his left hand, and grabbed the dog’s neck, and with what began as hissing, cooled down to yelping, and the dog let go. Blake immediately stood up and tried to walk away, this time facing forwards, but the dog clearly hadn’t had enough. It came at him again, with a vengeance. This time, Blake was ready, and angry. When the beast reached him, he turned around and grabbed it before it could bite again, slammed it on the ground and punched it twice. Now the dog was finished. Scared and seemingly disappointed by the lack of flesh it subtracted, it limped away towards nearby bushes. Blake checked his right arm. It was bleeding horribly. He ran home, patched it up and put a long sleeve shirt on, embarrassed over what had happened. He didn’t want Maddy to see that a dog had basically overpowered him.
Chapter 3
The two got to the cinema late, and decided to see a different movie. Blake had told Maddy that a glass incident happened at his house, and that was the reason for the patching on his arm and his late appearance at her house. They decided what movie they would see, and walked in without buying any snacks. They were eager to see the movie. It was a thriller they had been looking forward to for a while, called "Rescue Dawn". About twenty minutes into the movie, Blake saw somebody run in obnoxiously from the entrance down by the front seats. The girl appeared to be about thirteen. She had short blonde hair, almost reaching her neck. She was wearing a black coat and baggy jeans. She ran up to the row behind Blake and Maddy, and sat down looking angry about something. Blake thought it was strange that she had sat in the seat directly behind him, considering there were many open seats in that particular row. She had her cell phone out and began to text someone. She seemed very eager to let whoever it was know what she needed to tell them, because she appeared to be missing the correct buttons over and over again, constantly shrieking and shrugging. Blake thought he‘d never seen someone’s fingers twitch so much. Having her phone out bothered nearby people. Eventually someone walked out looking pissed, and she knew that he was going to complain. She ran down the opposite isle the man had, with the phone open, still in her hand. She gave Blake a dirty look before she reached the exit.
Blake and Maddy walked outside the cinema. It felt to be nearly seventy degrees out. The movie had ended, and it was almost twelve-thirty. They needed a ride a home, it was too late to walk home by themselves. Blake took his cell phone. He began to dial the number of his older brother, when the phone shut off. He turned it around to see the “battery dead” symbol on the back mini-screen.
“Damnet…” he said “Can I use your cell?” he asked.
“I don’t have one, remember?” said Maddy.
“OK, we’re going to have to walk.”
“No way! Can’t we use a pay phone?”
The two looked around for one for what seemed like ages. There was no payphone around. The fact that there wasn’t a pay phone anywhere was no shocker to either of them. It was 2008, and pay phones were a thing of the past. Blake and her had really been searching around in hopes of spotting a friend who could give them a ride. They had no luck.
“HOW THE HELL ARE WE GUNNA GET HOME?” yelled Maddy. Blake thought to himself that only Maddy would get discouraged so easily.
“You need a ride?” said a voice from behind. The voice was recognizable. It was the obnoxious girl from the theater. Blake and Maddy turned around to see a girl with the short blond hair and black eyes that they had wished never existed less than an hour and a half ago. Now, she was offering to give them, two strangers, a ride home, not even knowing where they lived and how far it may be.
“I can give you a ride if we want. I mean, if you really need one…”
Blake thought about it for a minute. He wondered if the “don’t take rides from strangers” rule applied to children of equal (or at least similar) age. He thought to himself “I mean, her mom or dad has to be the one to give us a ride and I doubt that--”
But before he could even finish his thought, Maddy agreed, with a sign of relief in her voice. Her impulsiveness resulted in a positive factor, for once. Before he knew it, Blake was sitting in a car with one friend and two strangers. He had learned that the girl’s name was Chris and her mother was a very nice person. She agreed to give them a ride. When Maddy had already been dropped off, and Blake was sitting in the backseat uncomfortably, Chris apologized for her level of rudeness in the theater, and said that she hoped they would see each other again sometime.
“Yeah, maybe…well thanks a bunch.” said Blake, and hopped out of the vehicle. When he nearly approached his doorstep, he turned around to see Chris through the car window, writing something down on a sheet of paper. He wondered what it could be. He hadn’t given her his phone number or anything. He said to himself “Whatever.” and went inside. Purposely avoiding his parents, he crossed over through the dining room to the stairs, and went straight to his bedroom. He drifted to sleep around four thirty that night.
Chapter 4
The bright light seeping through the blinds of his windows had woken him, and after a rubbing of the eyes, Blake stepped out of bed, feeling only partially alive. The growling of his stomach was enough to send him downstairs. He walked towards his door, and before he could open it, the sound of an incoming insteat message came from the speakers of his nearby computer, which he kept next to his bedside. After walking over to the black screen, he clicked the mouse a few times in order to wake it up out of sleep mode. He wished he could do the same to himself. The quick burst of brightness from the screen caused Blake to blink a few times, and after about ten seconds his eyes adjusted. But he didn’t like what he saw.
A message from an “unknown sender” had appeared in the bottom left. After accepting it, he skimmed over what it said. Basically, it was a threatening message from a user named “Karkos312”. The gist of what it read was “You’ll wish you hadn’t done it.” It didn’t take Blake long to figure out what this anonymous creep was informing him of. Blake threw on his coat and shoes and ran downstairs. Surprisingly, his mother was sitting relaxed at the kitchen table reading some novel. She stopped him and asked him where he was going.
“I’ve gotta go check on something.” said Blake, and ran out the door. He ran for about fifteen minutes toward the site where the dog had attacked him. The day before, it had taken him forty five minutes. He was in a hurry, worried. All kinds of thoughts seemed to haunt him on this trip through hell.
“Should I have called the police?” and “What if I broke it’s leg?” That led towards an even worse thought.
“Are the owners going to file a lawsuit against my parents?”
More worried than he had ever remembered being in his life, he eventually reached the site. After standing for about fifteen seconds in order to catch his breath, he took a look at the side walk where it had happened. Nothing was there to show that any violence had occurred. This wasn’t enough to convince Blake. He kept walking, walking, and walking along the path, looking around in circles, for some indication, any indication, that everything would be alright.
In the end, after a long period of time searching, he decided that his best bet would be to go back home and explain to the anonymous stranger on “AOL Instant Messenger” what had happened. But what he saw on his way back to his house made him stop to gaze, in disbelief. Through the thin bushes that stood beside him, he could see a house, and in front of that house, was a gravestone. A gravestone, with a carving of a child holding a dog on it. The numbers“1998-2008” were imprinted on the gravestone. Several police cars sat empty in the driveway. Blake had killed a dog and not reported it.
Even though he thought it was not possible, he had ran home even faster than he had ran to his original destination. It took only about ten minutes to reach his house. For the first time in months, Blake was eager to talk to his parents, hoping that he could explain to them what happened in a way they could understand. “They would have to believe it,” he thought. “They’ll believe me that it was self defense, I’m sure. I mean, they don’t look at me as the kind of kid who mindlessly goes around beating helpless animals, do they?”
From the moment he opened the door, he saw both his parents, and Dennis sitting on the living room couch. Dennis was hardly ever home, and the fact that him and their parents were in the same room together was an osurrance that something was wrong and they knew it.
“Jesus Christ, they know. They know I’ve done it and they’re being sued.” thought Blake. But when he stepped inside the room, the three of them didn’t even bother to look at him. They were engulfed in something on the television they were watching. Blake took a look, and could see that the street he had just been on was being shown on the news. He recognized it right away, after being there less than fifteen minutes ago. Blake blurted out an idiotic thing to say on impulse.
“IT WAS ME!” he yelled. “BUT IT WAS SELF DEFENSE! IT WAS GOING TO KILL ME!”
Blake’s father gazed at him as if he were from Mars.
“Do you know what’s happened?” his father asked.
“Yeah, I mean, I think…I mean I…what…what’s going on.” Blake replied.
Dennis suddenly uttered out a full sentence to Blake for the first time in weeks. “A little girl who lives around the block from us was killed today, you moron.”
Blake didn’t even say anything. He just dropped his coat and ran upstairs, straight to his computer.
Last edited by panicnight26 : 01-24-2008 at 10:24 PM.
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But it gets easier. I've noticed that the amount of passive verbs I use has got alot fewer and I've started writing active voice almost automatically, it just takes practice.
