LoneWolf

Just an old story I think I posted like a year ago. I reworded it, switched some stuff around...btw, did you know that Drzava actually did post a story on here? Interesting news...anyways, enjoy!


It was a cool, crisp night, the type night in which people can snuggle up in their beds and dream pleasant dreams. Marcus Davenport was not one of those people. This didn't surprise him much; he never slept until at least four or five AM. Instead, he liked to scribble song lyrics in his tattered notebook. This was what he was doing this night.

He stopped the monotonous movement of his pen and read what he had written : This fear of being alone/ Makes me so tired/ The thoughts feel at home/ In my brain/ Bored and sleepy, void of fire. Marcus smiled and reached for his guitar. He strummed a few strings and felt a surge of happiness hit him. It was just about the only thing that made him happy anymore.

As Marcus began to play, his mind went blank. He was only aware of the strings underneath his fingers, the clear sound of his guitar--

A loud knock shook Marcus from his musical trance. His fingers stopped plucking the strings and he sighed. He knew exactly who it was.

" Marcus!" his mother yelled, "What do you think you are doing?!" She barged in, her face red and shiny. "Marcus, I don't know what you're doing at four in the morning! Are you getting high?"

Marcus opened his mouth to speak, but his mother interrupted him.

" Oh, I see. It's your music again! I don't know who you are anymore! You used to be my little boy! Now look, you're 18 and you're always frowning and moping about. It's as if nothing makes you happy anymore! Why don't you get a job? Or leave? Or--something!!" And with a flounce of her beach blonde hair and a roll of her crystal blue eyes, she was gone.

Marcus stared at the place where she had stood. Faintly he heard the banging of a coffee cup on the table and the slamming of a cupboard door. He sighed and ran a hand through his dark brown hair.
This was what happened to Marcus most of the time when he was in the process of earning a Grammy. His mother or father would barge in, uninvited, and ask why he was a mopey 18-year-old guy, and if he was high. Marcus sighed again and glanced at his guitar. He didn't want to play anymore; the mood was spoiled. He fell back onto his bed and into a deep, dreamless sleep.


A sharp ringing shattered the quiet, dark sanctuary of Marcus's sleep. He groaned and covered his head with a pillow. Presently there was a knock on his bedroom door.

"Go ahead in. He's probably still asleep. Because of his music," she said coldly.

The door opened and one of Marcus's best friends and bandmates strolled in.

"Marcus, my man, get up! I got great news!"

Marcus lifted his head and grinned. "Jakey-boy, what are you doing here? It's too early. It's--" he picked up his alarm clock and squinted at it, "--one o'clock." He grinned sheepishly and dropped the clock. "What's the news?"

"There's gonna be a Battle of the Bands thing up in Cali, and first place is a record deal!"

Marcus sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes. "Man, you know my mom's never gonna go along with that."

Jake gaped at him. "Are you serious? This is our chance..our second chance." Last year's Battle of the Bands flashed through Marcus's head.
They had only gotten third place.

When he returned to reality, Jake had already moved to the door. "C'mon, man. You're 18, an adult...a man. You can do whatever the hell you want now. This is our year, I can feel it. Don't be an ass." Jake crossed his eyes at Marcus and left.

Marcus sighed and covered his head with his pillow again. What a morning. And just as he was drifting off, his mom crashed though the door.

"So...what did the heathen want?"

Marcus lifted his pillow from his head and glared at her. "Don't talk about Jake like that."

"Why not? As far as I'm concerned, he is. And if you don't stop hanging around people like that, you'll become one too." She bobbed her head as if in agreement with herself.

"I wish you'd just leave me the hell alone." he muttered under his breath.

"What?!!"

"Would you just leave? I'm not high, or getting high, and there is one thing that makes me happy: my music! So if you can't accept that, well, that's your problem."

His mother stood in the doorway, her face becoming red. In an eerily calm voice she replied, "They've already gotten to you," and left.

Marcus couldn't believe what a snob her mother was being. Well, he could believe it, because she was one. She had married a rich, handsome guy and now she couldn't stand to have a son who wanted to become something other than a doctor or a lawyer. Jealousy surged through Marcus's veins as he thought of his older brother, who had left home immediately after high school and was now living in London.

Well I can do that too, he thought, I'm 18. An adult. A man.

With new purpose, he hopped out of bed, shoved some clothes into a bag and threw on some decent clothes. Hastily grabbing his guitar and notebook on the way out, he ran down the stairs. He stopped in front of his mother, who was watching The Bold and the Beautiful on television.

"I...am...a...HEATHEN!" he yelled, throwing his hands in the air. His mom sat, staring, as Marcus blew her a kiss and left the house.

Five minutes later he arrived in front of Jake's house. The rest of the band was there, sprawled out underneath a huge oak tree.

"What up, fellas?" Marcus asked with a grin. "So are we goin' to Cali or what?"

The guys all broke out in grins and started talking at once. Marcus pulled out his trusty, old notebook and heard Jake's voice in his head.

This is our year, I can feel it.

And suddenly, Marcus could feel it too.

__________________
My aim is to put down on paper what I see and what I feel in the best and simplest way. --Ernest Hemingway

Chris Miller

Hey LoneWolf,

I liked it. Hope you don’t mind a few suggestions, now that you have decided to revisit it.

"It was a cool, crisp night, the type night in which many people snuggle up in their beds and dream pleasant dreams. Marcus Davenport was not one of those people."

What do you think of my very small modification here? Tried to be more specific as to who “those” people were.

“He heard the faint tapping…” Dropped the adverb, and tried to make the adjective match the noun. Generally, avoid adverbs if possible.

“Marcus’s” = Marcus’

her?

Good descriptions of the mother. Nice coming of age tale. And I really liked the ending. The ending totally nails it.

Great ending! I wish I could do happy endings.

Chris

__________________
the fairwriting blogs

Barcelona Review story: http://www.barcelonareview.com/64/e_cm.html

gohn67

Hey Lonewolf,
This is a good story, and I agree, with Chris that the end was great. I really loved the ending of this piece. That in itself made it a worthwhile read. Though the rest of the story setting it up is good too. I like the semi happy ending, because if he doesn't succeed, then he'll be living on the street or coming to back to his mom begging.

add a "of" between "type" and "night"
I kind of didn't like this opening sentence.

It remind me of "It was a dark and stormy night and owls were hooting..."

I need to get out of that habit of sleeping late. I'm not sure if its true but my told me that if I sleep late that I will get Kidney Failure and Blindness.

CLunky to me.

Ooh, what kind of guitar?

This part seemed kind of repetitve to me. Becuase the mom just said it all those things. And it seems like seeing double. Not sure of anyother way though.

The mom's so paranoid.

second chance? Man, I think that kind of hints that they may fail in the end. That they're too stuck in their dreams.

__________________
The Frowning Dog Blog

eggo

I liked the story. It rang of reality and was funny as hell. His mother could have been a carbon copy of every mother since time began.

It was a very nice flow to the story and the writing was very clean.

Just a couple of changes I would make other than that which has been mentioned,



Instead, he liked to scribble song lyrics in his tattered notebook, which was what he was doing this night.

seems to flow a bit better like that.

"Marcus, I want to know what you're doing at four in the morning! Are you getting high?"

Mom seems a bit more direct.

Good story

LoneWolf

Thanks everyone for your suggestions. This is probably the only story I ever really, truly loved and thought was good enough, so it means a lot.

Chris: Trust me, happy ending are plenty hard for me now. I wrote this a long time ago, when I was more happy. Now I think that dark stories are cooler Thanks again!

gohn: Hullo again! Wow, your take on the semi happy ending really was uh...nice lol, thanks. I never did think of it that way. Note taken about the opening sentence. You're right...slightly cliched. Although I play a smaller version of it, I don't know anything about guitars. I'll have to ask around for that one. I kind of based this mom on mine, and she is definitely paranoid! Your mom actually told you that? Mine only said that I have insomnia because I sleep too much...? Oh well....Thank you for reading yet another one of my stories!

eggo: Thank you so much for reading and critiquing! I'm glad you liked it!

Maria: Hey! Thank you for reading! I would have to agree with you. When I wrote the part about the guy just leaving; hell, I wish I could do that too. I've been on the brink of it plenty a time. So you're not alone And your critiques don't suck!! They're actually very good and helpful! Thank you again and I'm glad you liked it!

LW

__________________
My aim is to put down on paper what I see and what I feel in the best and simplest way. --Ernest Hemingway