Speak Out 4/18: Novella/Fiction
Posted by Mr. Reed on April 18, 2008
The literary focus for this week was based on the 3-C literary analysis:
Character
Conflict
Crisis
Write your own beginning of a ”novella” in which one key character is developed.
April 19th, 2008 at 7:59 pm
My Novella
It is the winter of 2003 and my family and I are at the summit of Bucks Lake. It is snowing like a madman. We are trying to unload our stuff, watch the dogs, and start the snowmobiles all at the same time. It is freezing cold and the wind is whistling through my ears with cold snow numbing them. The wind is making me squint my eyes so I can barely see, and I feel like I have no fingers.
We finally start the snowmobiles and my dad hops into the truck and backs the snowmobile trailer into the snow. My Grandpa follows with his truck, and after that my Aunt Gaylene and Uncle Mike with theirs. I am now unloading all the stuff out of the trucks and loading it into the sleds. Meanwhile my mom and dad are backing the snowmobiles off the trailers and parking them on the side of the road. Once the snowmobiles are off the trailers, I hook the sleds to the back of a two of them, cover the sleds and then the whole group goes looking for the dogs, Gismo and Blake. After we load the dogs into their carriers and on one of the sleds it is time to park the trucks and take off. I hop on my snowmobile and follow along.
Going through the white and cold wiping the snow off my facemask every few seconds. I keep holding the throttle. Going around turns practically blind, the ride seems forever. Finally we drive past the lodge and in another five minutes we can see our cabin. We pull over to the side of the road at the entrance to our driveway and face a problem. The drive does not get groomed like the rest of the road, so my dad and mom go up the driveway with their deep snow machines to pack it down. After that’s done, everyone else starts their snowmobiles up and plows up the driveway. I pull up next to the cabin with a sled full of stuff behind me and turn my snowmobile off. We rush to get everything out of the sled and into the basement before the snow gets it all wet. Once that’s done we rush back out to cover the snowmobiles and then rush back into the basement. The first floor of our cabin is two rooms, a garage and a basement. From the basement there is a set of stairs that leads to the second floor where the kitchen, living room, and a hallway of bedrooms and a bathroom are located. From there, you can head to the third floor where there is a big loft and a similar hallway of bedrooms and a bathroom. We take off our snow clothes in the basement and haul them upstairs to the second floor along with our stuff from the sleds. We lay our clothes down next to the fireplace and start a fire and turn on the heating system. Then we settle in and put all of our stuff where it is supposed to be. After that I usually make my brother and myself some hot chocolate and sit next to the fire waiting for tomorrow when the fun begins.
April 19th, 2008 at 11:49 pm
Etsu’s Quest
The wind was weak that day, and the sun was high. The villagers were rebuilding their houses that were destroyed during the attack. By this point of the war, most villages were used to this type of tragedy. An elderly couple stood in front of the village entrance. “Do you think she’ll be alright?” the elderly woman asked, “This is her first time leaving the village. What if she gets lost, or captured by the soldiers?” “She’ll be fine,” the old man assured her, “After all, Etsu needs to take this journey by herself.”
Five miles north of the village, a young girl of seventeen, walked downs a bumpy trail. She had bright blond hair, and crystal blue eyes. “Maybe I shouldn’t have left the village.” the girl mumbled to herself, “I don’t even know where I’m going.” She heard a rustle in the bushes. She began to slowly reach for her knife when the creature stumbled out of the bushes. It was a young female lion cub with snow-white fur. Etsu heard rumors about how once the war had began, it wasn’t unusual for soldiers to capture full-grown lions and for the cubs to be left behind and having to fend for themselves. “Hey there little one. You gave me quite a fright.” the cub stared curiously into Etsu’s eyes, “I see. You’re just like me. The soldiers took your parents away from you as well. Well, I guess neither of us will make it by ourselves. Come on, I’ll carry you. Now lets see, I think I’ll call you Snow Cub.” Snow Cub was Etsu’s first friend. Back in the village, she never allowed herself to open up to anyone, not even Grandma and Grandpa. They were not her true grandparents. No one in that village knew of Etsu’s true heritage, not even she.
“Hey, it’s getting pretty late.” Etsu exclaimed, “Lets make camp here for the night.” Etsu started a fire, grabbed four sausages and placed them over the fire. Snow Cub began tugging on the rope for the tent, until Etsu’s wool blanket fell on top of the playful cub. “Oh Snow Cub. What am I going to do with you?” Etsu finished putting up the tent and took the four sausages away from the fire and on a plate. “My father and mother were running away from the King’s men and were finally caught. Before they took them away, my mother carried me to the nearby village and left me in the care of an elderly couple.” A tear rolled down Etsu’s face, “I was only two months old at the time. I have no picture, and no memory of them. All I have is this necklace that my mother left me.” She took off the silver chain from around her neck. It had a sterling silver star hinging at the end of it, with a bright pearl inside. “Beautiful, isn’t it. When I get scared, I place it near my heart to tell myself they’re protecting me. Wait and see. I’m going to find them no matter how long and what it takes. We’ll be a family again, the way it’s supposed to be. It’s getting late. Goodnight Snow Cub.” Snow Cub walked towards her and curled up beside her. Etsu gave her a smile, and kissed her forehead. With the happy thoughts of her dear friend, she drifted to sleep.
“I think she’s waking up now.” A mysterious voice stated. Etsu rolled over in the direction of the voice. She slowly and carefully began to open her eyes, to find two red and pale blurry creatures. Once her eyes had adjusted to the sunlight, she took a good look at the two creatures only to find two young men, probably no more than twenty years old. They had bright red hair with light brown eyes, very handsome, but somehow Etsu felt that she was about to deal with a couple of idiots. “Oh lord, I’m seeing double.” “Wrong answer, we’re twins, you bed hair idiot,” one of the men exclaimed, “We are the Keiichi brothers. I’m Akira, and since you’re obviously not from around here, it means intelligent.” “And I’m Kisho,” the other said, “and it means one who knows his own mind.” “So, we gave you our names, and it’s rude for you not to gives your name,” they both exclaimed, “So, what’s your name and what is a girl like you doing in a place like this?” “Well,” Etsu hesitated, “my name is Etsu, and my being here has nothing to do with you. And what do you mean like a girl like me?” “It’s quite simple,” both of them, answered, “You’re a girl approximately seventeen years old, and you’re by yourself. It’s obvious that you’re not a knight since you aren’t wearing any armor. And you are definitely not a priestess or magician since you didn’t see us coming.” Snow Cub finally woke up from all of the commotion and glared with interest at the two new arrivals.
Etsu finished packing around noon and started back on her journey, with Akira and Kisho following her. “What do you want now?” Etsu growled. “Isn’t it simple?” the two brothers responded, “We come from a very wealthy family, so we live in many great mansions located near rivers and beaches, we have countless maids, and we always get everything we want.” Etsu stared at them questioning herself how it is possible for these two idiots to be a part of a wealthy family, when they continued, “In other words, we’re bored so we need a good game to play. We left our previous estate with some food, clothing, and money and began our journey. We saw you and Snow Cub walking down the trail yesterday and were curious. So we decided we will tag along with you and see what happens.” Etsu stared with disbelief at the two of them. How could they possibly think this was some sort of child’s game. “Look,” she stated, “this isn’t something to joke around about. It’s really important to me and dangerous.” “You don’t think we already knew that.” Akira replied. “Believe it or not, you need us. We’ve been trained to fight, ride horses, and to navigate our way around since we could talk.” Kisho added. Etsu was startled, “I had no idea. Please, forgive my rudeness.” “I guess we can accept your apology this time.” Kisho remarked. “After all, you can pay us back for our assistance and company later.” Akira smirked. “What have I gotten myself into this time?” Etsu moaned. She splinted to her new companions, wondering how this would all turn out.
“Hey bed hair Etsu,” Akira exclaimed, “we’ve been walking on this road for two days straight. Can we please take a break now?” “Forget about it,” Etsu smirked, “we need to keep going. There’s not time for breaks.” In truth, Etsu was just as tired, but she feared the consequences of being caught off guard. After all, Akira and Kisho were able to, though they meant her no harm, but others might. “You know Etsu,” Kisho hesitated from exhaustion, “there is a town not to far from here. If we go there, we could buy horses and other supplies. Plus, we can stay the night at a nice inn, and then we can get a good rest and a well-deserved bath.” Etsu stopped, and considered her options for a moment, “Well, I guess it’s a pretty good idea. All right, we can go to the town, but we can’t stay more than two nights. You got it?” “Deal!” the brothers agreed with joy, “To the town we go!”
After about a half an hour of walking, Etsu, Akira, Kisho, and Snow Cub, arrived at the town’s gate. “That’s a pretty big gate.” Etsu observed the massive structure and couldn’t stop thinking about what might be inside. “Hey don’t lag behind, bed hair Etsu.” Akira yelled, “ We were planning on buying you some nice dresses like a girl is supposed to wear.” “What do you mean like a girl is supposed to wear. What’s wrong with the clothes I’m wearing? And stop calling me bed hair Etsu. You know this bed hair Etsu has feelings to!” she screeched. “Don’t let Akira get the best of you Etsu. He only does it because you’re his first friend, besides from me you know.” Kisho tried to explain, “After all, he only does it to get you to notice him. Both him and I know there’s nothing wrong with your wardrobe. H only said those things to give him an excuse to buy you something nice. But if he does get on your nerves too much, you could try giving him a good punch in his face. That will make him yelp.” Both Etsu and Kisho began to laugh hysterically. “Okay, I’ll forgive him, at least for now.” Etsu giggled, “And who knows, I might actually wear one of the dresses he buys me.”
Akira and Kisho pulled Etsu and Snow Cub from shop to shop, stopping to make purchases. “Wow, there are so many beautiful fabrics here. Why didn’t I bring my sewing kit?” Etsu groaned. “Don’t worry about the money,” the Keiichi brothers assured her, “just remember this, when you see something you like, all you have to do is tell us and we’ll buy it.” “No, you really don’t have to do that,” Etsu backed away. “You’re right, we don’t have to,” Akira remarked. “But we want to,” Kisho finished. And with that being said, Etsu decided to go along with it and picked out some of her favorite fabrics and a brand new sewing kit. Kisho and Akira escorted her to the inn and showed her to her room. She sat on her bed and took out her fabrics. Snow Cub rolled towards the bet and Etsu picked her up. “I have a surprise for you Snow Cub,” Etsu blurted out with excitement. She pulled out a beautiful sky blue, luminous ribbon, and tied it in a bow around Snow Cub’s neck. The energetic lion cub gave out a squeak of a growl in approval of her little accessory. “I knew you would like it,” Etsu exclaimed with delight.
“Etsu, wake up!” Kisho cried, “We got a surprise for you. I’m convinced you’ll like it.” Etsu slowly opened her eyes to adjust to the bright light. Snow Cub was still sleeping on her bed, “You better not sleep in tomorrow.” Etsu giggled. She turned around and found ten different sets of clothes for. Could that possibly be the surprise? She grabbed a purple dress with a light blue scarf sewed around the trim of the dress and the waist. She took a good look at herself in the mirror. “A perfect fit,” she said with a grin, “and it’s actually not half bad looking either.” “Hey Etsu, are you almost done in there?” Kisho asked. “Pretty much,” Etsu responded, “come in.” Kisho opened the door to her room and immediately tripped on Etsu’s boots. “Are you okay?” Etsu asked while trying to tend to him. “Yeah, I’m okay.” Kisho said trying to relax her, “So I see that you have found interested in one of the dresses we bought you. And of course you should, seeing that it looks so good on you.” “Thanks,” Etsu blushed, “so was this the surprise?” “No way.” Kisho exclaimed with delight, “The real surprise is outside with Akira. Come on, you just got to see it.
She rushed down to where Akira was and found him holding the ropes for three tall and majestic horses. “So, what do you think?” Akira asked, “This one is yours.” Akira pulled out the smallest of the three, a young male horse with white fur and two huge black spots, one around it’s neck and the other going left to right across his spine, one of the others was brown with white spots, and the third had a beautiful light brown coat. “He’s amazing.” Etsu complemented, “Is he really mine.” “Of course he’s yours.” the two brothers responded, “You can keep him even after our adventure is over.” “Thank you so much, both of you!” Etsu whooped with cheer, “I’ll take good care of it, I promise. Now, how about we continue our travels on our new horses.”
April 20th, 2008 at 2:39 pm
Hello. My name is Soldier 23. I am a fugitive super soldier who has run from my camp in search for an answer to all this confusion. I am suffering from amnesia and can not remember anything that has happened to me in the past but all I know is I was made two years ago, in a lab by Puerto Rico. This lab was working on a project called Project G, a project to make soldiers with unthinkable strength, agility, and intelligence, but instead of a perfect soldier, most are perfect monsters. At first, these soldiers were one man armies, and were sold off for high prices all over the country, but after a few months, these soldiers would lose control and would start to kill all things in there way. I am the only surviving stable super soldier and I am looking for a man named Weston, the one who sought out this program of super soldiers, and I will get my answers, even if I have to use force…
The train slows to a steady stop and I climb aboard. I sit in an open seat and start to doze off into a deep sleep. I have been up for four days straight without food or drink, searching for Weston, and not having any luck. Suddenly the train came to an abrupt stop and I hear a scream. I quickly get up and look to see what is happening. As I get up a huge door flies toward me. I try to duck but the speed was too great and I start to fly backwards. I get back up and see a huge man gritting his teeth, a huge bat like thing in his hand. I pull out my gun and start shooting at him but it looked as if it was not working, but was just getting him angrier. He swings his club and it knocks me back a good ten feet and right into a wall. I tear off the door on the side and hurled it at his head knocking him back but it looked like it did not do much good. I start hurling more things like chairs and windows, and anything I could get my hands on, but he was not really affected. He ran back at me with his club beating me down into the ground. I kick him off the train and I jumped out to where he was and started beating him down with my fists. He pushes me off and grabs me by the throat. I try to kick free, but he has a good grip on me. I start seeing spots and I started thinking this was the end until suddenly, he let go. I look up to see what happened and a train zooms past me. After it passes I look down at the giant corpse in the rail road, to see where it came from. I grab its dog tag and read it: Soldier 36, Weston Enterprises. I pick it up and put it in my pocket, and started down the track, searching now for Weston Enterprises.
April 20th, 2008 at 6:15 pm
Novella
Gazing out, across the fading horizon, Izzy focused and refocused on a dark figure silhouetted against the watery sky. At the edge of the beach where the sand breaks the water’s force, Izzy stands in wait of the distant shadow. Her deep blue eyes force tears through the fierce, salty, wind. She runs, slowly closing the distance between her and the mysterious phantom. She runs until her lungs cry for air, he seems so close, but never seems to be close enough. She can see his bronze hair against the darkness of the coming night. As she runs she thinks, “Wow, he’s farther than I thought he was.” Regardless of this unspoken thought she continues running towards the boy as the sun fades to a dim, yet intense red, blood red. She never seems to get any closer until…
She awakens, chilled by a light sweat, from her dazed slumber. She groans as she realizes it is yet another Monday morning, even if it is summer. “Nothing ever makes Mondays any better,” she thinks as she sinks deeper into her bed, though she cannot sleep. Izzy makes a fleeting glance at her bedside clock and moans at her realization, “Three more hours until I can officially wake up,” she thought. Her thick comforter is now a shield meant to help her shy away from the sun’s coming rays; a few of the strongest rays make it through the tick blanket and onto Izzy’s icy skin. Rising to get out of the soft bed, she steals a glimpse out of her bedroom window and spots a dark figure gazing up at her window. Tip- toeing softly across the room she stares out at the man, or rather boy, a caliginous outline against the white snow. He swiftly turns towards the rising sun, Izzy follows his gaze, the sun was nearly up. She turns back to the boy; he was gone, as if with the full appearance of the sun.
This strange occurrence set her mind on edge, she could not think of a possible explanation for the stranger’s appearance. Her alarm sounded, startling her out of her dazed thoughts, had it three hours already? “Well,” she thought, “At least I can finally get up.” She put on some warm clothes and trudged outside through the thick snow. She walked, not really worrying about where she was headed. Entering a bright clearing and she sits trying to piece together the strange disturbance of her morning. “Why had he been staring at the window like that?”
Sitting in the sun, so intent on figuring out the mysterious boy, she did not notice the dimming of the light, or arriving of the night. While she contemplates the happenings of today she can hear the low growl of some animal, not far off in the distance. She looks up; a large black wolf is crouched low, not 20 feet from her. “Wow, emphasis on the ‘not far in the distance’” she thinks. Rising slowly, from her seat on the snow-covered log which is half- buried in a light lanket of snow. She slowly turns to see the clearing is full of the large beasts. Izzy begins to panic, feeling like a gazelle in a lion’s den; there is no visible breach in the wolves’ tight circle. The sun is almost down. She is without a weapon, the circle is getting tighter, and she can see the hot breath of the wolves. Her heart beats faster with every step of the pack; the wolves come to an abrupt stop and, once again, stoop into a low crouch. “This is it,” she thinks, the largest wolf crouches and leaps, she gasps. A dark flash hits him. Through her fingers she can see that it is completely dark, only the brilliantly large moon lights the night. She looks to the dark mass where the wolf landed; a figure is hunched over the massive beast. Not just any random shadow it was the shadow. The one from her dreams… the boy outside her house. She recognized the soft brown eyes and thick bronze hair. Did this figure have a name? She racked her brain for any possible clues as to what it could be. While she thought, the boy called to the wolves “Go!” amazingly enough, the wolves obliged. He slowly turned to her, when she looked into his unforgettable face, the name came to her… Damien.
April 21st, 2008 at 12:04 am
The Bank Robber and I
By: Danny Skau
It was 12o’clock noon on a dry September day. The heat was almost unbearable as it shone down a busy city street of New York. The flow of traffic was futile and the attitudes of inpatient drivers were eminent. But if you took a closer look you would find many more details. A colorful blue jay sat perched atop an electric line tempting an obnoxious dog tethered to a nearby fencepost. But just as a blind man and his seeing dog crossed the street they were barely avoided by a police car going at least 45 in a 25 mph area. He wasn’t the only one though, closely following him were at least 9 police cars shooting out from all the side streets to meet up in front of a local bank.
As they parked their cars in a barrier out front, I could see the hairs on their necks standing straight up like trees in a forest. One approached the door and flung it open only to be welcomed with a cloud of smoke. At that second, things seemed to be calm but just as he began to turn around, gunshots were heard and the officer dropped to his knees and his eyes rolled back in his head.
Several hours had passed but no progress was made. I could see from behind the one block perimeter closed off with caution tape that they were beginning to feed edgy. Then the smoke began to thin and a woman stood there shaking with her hands pressed against the glass. She had something around her neck a note that with some focused eyes could be read as “cops, we have 30 hostages, two of which are officers. Meet our demands and they live. Send an officer to the front of the building with a suitcase filled with $100,000,000 dollars in $20’s”. That was just too much for me. I began to crawl underneath the tape without knowing what I was doing.
I made my way past some men dressed in bullet proof jackets and large batons. They I was stopped. “Excuse me, sir; do you work for the police?” “Yes, sir” I answered as I flashed him my badge, “I’m undercover detective John Bertolli, age 32.”
“And were you assigned to this case?” “No sir, but I would like to help. I have 4 years training in hostile negotiation and 1 year in a secret Navy Corps agency that trains spies”. “Well right this way sir, let me show you what we know so far.”
After a few hours of vigorous work, the entire police department of New York and I had mapped out a plan to infiltrate the bank using the air ducts in the ceiling. We suited up and armed ourselves with some advanced technology for spies, including a micro repel machine that slowly lowers a 200 pound man down about 100 feet of wire, a pair of multicementocular goggles that not only allowed me to see in the dark but also to see through walls. We made our way across the street and to the front of the building.
A quick look at my watch told me it was 3:00am, the perfect time to sneak in unnoticed. Inching carefully across the outer wall and over to a 3’ x 3’ vent about 1 foot off the ground, we called on our walkie talkie for a drill, but before they could respond one of the men in the back passed one up. After removing the thick metal grate, we all cautiously lowered ourselves to our bellies and began to crawl. Within minutes we came to a small opening with a grate over it, that was slanted at an angle. I peered down only to be greeted by some disturbing voices. “Well boss there all sleeping, so if you want to we can start the executions.” “Alright get the silencer on my pistol.” I couldn’t let them do that, so without asking I kicked in the grate and attached my reppeller to the top of the vent and lowered myself in. In shock to myself I found that my actions were unnoticed so I pulled out a collapsible baton and snuck up behind the first of three henchmen. Whack! He dropped to the ground silently, where I applied handcuffs to subdue him. Then I moved on to the next one, and then the next one, until I walked into a room where at least thirty bodies were huddled up together for warmth. Then from behind me I heard a menacingly chuckle that made my nerves shudder.
As I turned around I came face to face with a 9 caliber pistol aimed at the middle of my forehead. “This is the end of the line for you, you disgusting little shrimp of a man.” he barked. I was frozen in the spot like a deer in headlights. The only motion I was able to make was to close my eyes. I new it was coming and there was nothing I could do about it. BAM!!!
The next thought that popped into my head was, am I in heaven? But just then there were voices that sounded like they were coming from afar. “John, John are you okay?” I had somehow survived. I felt up and down my shivering body to find a place of injury, but there wasn’t one.
As I sat on the back of the Ambulance and watched the police department hall out three quiet men with bumps the size of baseballs on the back of their heads, a fellow officer explained how he and the rest of the officers had followed him down into the bank. He told how they had seen me cornered by a man dressed in all black wielding a pistol, and right before he shot they took him out. “But why did everything go black?” “You must have passed out or something.” “Oh well thank you for saving my life I owe you one”
Five years later I retired and currently live with my family in the downtown section of New York City.
April 21st, 2008 at 12:52 am
The Legacy of Billip
Billip was an ordinary guy if you ignored the flabby folds of fat that disfigured his body. People who saw him on the streets sometimes mistook him as a run-away hippo, bulldozing every unfortunate victim in its path. He had an enormously short temper. He also did not speak a word of English, or any other language for that matter. But whichever way you looked at him, it was obvious that he was one hundred percent sumo!
If there was one thing Billip was good at, besides eating fifty hot dogs at world record speed, he was a sumo wrestler. He was entered in the All-American Sumo Wrestling Association by his friend and was a natural from the beginning, soaring through the ranks, or rather, he body slamming his way. He dominated the competition, and eventually earned the rank of mawashi, or fat son, in Japanese. His victims soon gave him the nickname “Bothaman”, for “Botha” was the only thing he could say.
We now join Billip after winning the heavy belt tournament in Benicia…
The sun was bright and Billip was not comfortable. He lay on his bed and had an annoying itch on his back that he could not reach. He reached up and groped around for his support rail and muttered “Botha” in agitation. For his enormous size, he had a small head. And for his small head, he had an even smaller brain. Along with the IQ of a baboon, he was a sight to behold.
He lay there for and hour, arms flailing in the open air, for his rail. He finally grasped the bar and heaved with all his might. With a few attempts, he struggled to his feet and stubbed his toe. He jumped around on one foot cursing, “Botha, Botha, Botha, Botha!” This fit was one of many in the life of Billip.
Billip lumbered over to the kitchen. With each footfall, his house shook, threatening to collapse. Another hour later, he barged into the kitchen in record speed (0.0000000000000000000001 mph). With an air of accomplishment, he pumped his fist above his head. “Botha, Botha, Botha.” he announced triumphantly.
His maid popped up from behind the counter and offered him breakfast.
“Would you like something to eat”, she said with a warm smile. But she was really thinking “You fat old slop! I’ve been here ten years, working on minimum wage. I’m only doing this so I can buy more lottery tickets.” She served Billip breakfast, which was twenty servings of hash browns, twenty- five pancakes, forty sausages and bacon strips, coated in grease, and nearly thirty eggs. All of it was enough to feed a whole professional football team.
When breakfast was taken care of, Billip stumbled out of the house into the stinging cold. He staggered through his recently cared for garden. Rose thorns caught his sleeves, roots tried to trip him, and low branches smacked him in the face, but he still hustled along valiantly.
Billip stumbled out of the harmful reach of the braches and brambles and found himself at his car. Exhausted at his dash of survival, he plopped down into the car, which fell nearly a foot under his great weight. He jammed the key into the ignition and stared the car up. The engine was reluctant to obey, but it finally hummed to life. It was as if it thought Billip intended to abuse it.
The world was a blur as Billip speed through the sleepy neighborhood. (This is all very ironic because Billip does not know how to drive in the first place.) (Ignoring the last statement, the story will resume.) The wind blowing in his hair, the sweet early morning smells rushing up to him, and the hypnotic siren of a police car chasing him pleased Billip. He turned hard to the left and the police car slammed into a tree, how pleasant!
He rode on and on into the country side. The lonely country lane he drove on had turned to gravel long ago. Billip was free and under nobody’s reins. His car cantered through the rolling, green hills and wound in and out of the little farms that dotted the country until he can to a steep bridge.
His car struggled to overcome the obstacle, blew a fuse, and rumbled to a stop. Stranded on the bridge, Billip was completely lost. He opened the car door and tried to scramble out. In the process, he got his wide hips stuck in the frame of the small car. Arms flailing around he was sprung loose and plummeted to the ground and lay sprawled there. He got up and stomped and cried and fumed until he was tired.
Desperate for help, he called out to the world below him, “Botha!” He was so caught up in calling that when he heard the timid voice behind him, he jumped.
“ ‘ello, du you need any ‘elp governor?” asked a freckled farmhand. He was probably no older than twelve and it was obvious from the way he was standing that he had encountered hard labor. Elated to see someone else, Billip ran to him.
“Botha” he said. He reached out a grabbed for the boy.
Where the boy had been standing there a second ago, there was nothing. Billip looked down in time to see the boy hurdling toward the rapids down below. The boy screamed and was sucked up by the torrent. Billip looked hard, but nothing emerged. He was gone. Billip had just botha-ed someone off a bridge! He would surely be a wanted man now. What would he do? Where would he go? He had to go. That much was obvious. He had to go somewhere no one would find him, but where?
To be continued…
April 21st, 2008 at 2:57 am
Chapter 1
” Sir! The Russian defense satelite is going out of its orbit”, an air force officer said.
” Why does this consern us”, the general said
” We believe it contains electro-atomic capabilities”, the officer said.
” Get the pentagon and white house on the phone NOW!”, yelled the general.
The crisis went on about seven more days. As pressure began to to rise tempers flared. Until on the eighth day the international space station sent out a distress call.
” Send out the space corps general”, a NASA administrator said.
” They need to be trained more…”, said the general while being interrupted by the administrator,” That was an order the president gave me and I plan on seeing it through”.
Errr!Errr!Errr! An alarm sounded at area 51. It signaled the activation of the space corps.
” Everyone out of bed and suit up”, said the intercom system.
” What is going on”, a soldier asked.
” Squad 500 is going into active service”, said another soldier.
” Well it was nice know`n them”, the soldiers said in perfect unison.
The space corps were prepared to take off when there was a last minute change. Six pilots paired in twos because they decided to use the two manned HS-50s. Five hours later they were already to go.
” All pilots fire booster rockets”, Lt. Howard Calhoun said.
The modified fighter planes sped up through the atmosphere and into space.
” Alpha 2, Alpha 3 recon detail, Eagle 1, Bravo 1 cover them”, said the liutenant
” Whatever Howard”, said Eagle 1.
” Its Liutenant Calhoun to you sargent,” said the liutenant.
” Warning! Incomeing missiles”, the computer announced.
” Break formation, evasive manuvers”, the liutenant ordered.
Missiles from the Russian defense satelite buzzed by them in seconds. Without time to evade them, the missles blew up 6 people including the liutenant. With no choice but to retreat, they exelerated down into the atmosphere. A few unlucky people were shot down when they retreated. The remaining missiles blew up in the atmosphere.
The remanents of the squad barely made it back to base. There congress and the president waited in the hangar. After hearing the pilots’ stories and contacting the Russian embassy, congress deliberated.
The next day, in Washington DC, the president announced that the attack on the space corps would be considered an act of war. Under Pressure for a week, congress formally declared war on Russia, deported Russian diplomats, brought back US diplomats back from foreign countries and closed all ties with Russia. This was the start of world war 3.
April 25th, 2008 at 1:32 pm
Chapter 1
On a low branch in a small tree lived a Bamric. He was an old Bamric and the wrinkles around his small eyes showed it. He lived a normal life in his small town of Organhill. The small forest overlapped itself and kept going for miles. People have always wondered how this prestigious town got it’s name, but I would say that the best guess is because the sound of an organ can be heard enveloping the hill when the sun is just about to set.
It was a cold day on the eve of the New Moon. Mr. Bant Autmus was reading up of Elvish history and relaxing in the shade of a Bon-Bon Tree.
“Morning there, oh Bant!” said the voice of the Mayor, Mr. Widol.
“And a good morning it certainly is!” replied Bant.
The wind whipped Bant’s short, light brown hair to and fro for it was almost autumn and the winds had started to come in from the North. Hunting had gotten scared as all the animals migrated south in search of warmer climates and more food than could be found in this desolate forest. Families all around the region were already feeling the great wrath of the winter and it was nothing to look forward to.
The Mayor turned to go back to his large estate found in the midst of the waterfall and the Fulreve Tree, but Bant grabbed his small arm. Bant was strong, you see, from the mining he did secretly. He loved the Emeralds and the Sapphires. But the only thing was that mining was a disgrace and most any Bamric who was caught mining was sentenced to life as nothing but an outcast.
“Mayor…” whispered Bant, “can we talk?”
“What is this about? Unhand me!” Bant released his army slowly and began again.
“Just come inside and we can talk about this over a nice cup of raspberry tea. Eh?”
“Very well,” said the Mayor reluctantly.
They walked over to a small cottage and waited for a second at the door. The algae that were overhanging the door wreaked of old fish and fertilizer. The tattered wood that made the walls of the house looked threateningly old and was to fall apart soon. The windows were open, and the place where the glass should have been was filled with nothing but air and darkness. A small line of smoke floated up to the gray sky from a small chimney on the shaking roof.
They stepped inside. The house smelled of ash yet it was strangely inviting. The rooms were faintly lit, but as Mr. Widol walked through the pink halls, he could faintly see inside the small doors.
In the first room there was a grand fireplace and a large oak desk absolutely covered in a mess of papers of all sorts of shapes, colors, and sizes. In the next room there was a small silver lamp and a medium sized bed with a ripped comforter. The extravagant bedposts gleamed in the yellow light and lit the room with a hypnotizing gaze. A small room was the next he saw. It was light and cheerful, but the furniture was dull and overused. There were three beds of different size and they were lightly covered in a small blanket and a lumpy looking pillow.
“Is that the kids’ room?” asked Mr. Widol.
“Oh why yes it is. They love it, but I personally think that it is too tattered and old. The children these days, they don’t actually know what it is like to have a good bed. A good room. A good meal actually…”
“Well as you know very well, they and the rest of your glorious family are always welcome in my happy home,” sympathized the old Mayor.
They walked into the next the room where they found a whistling teapot covered with painted flowers and rabbits. The wallpaper was a warm yellow color and the table was new. It was wooden and smelled of polish as if someone had cleaned it a minute before. Mr. Widol sat down in the small oak chair and took in the smells all mixing in the small kitchen. Blueberry muffins sat on the counter and the steam was still rising from their midst. A crumb cake was sitting on the table staring at Mr. Widol with hazel brown eyes.
“Would you like some tea?” asked Bant.
“Tea would be absolutely lovely. I feel as though my bones are going to crack any moment now from this wretched cold! Don’t you have some sort of heater in here?”
“Unfortunately no. We don’t exactly have the money for a new furnace so our old fireplace is the best we can do, but that’s in the study!”
“I see. Well a piece of crumb cake may help that?”
“Help yourself!” said Bant, and retrieved a knife and fork from the pantry. Mr. Widol chewed on his cake for a few short moments. He seemed very satisfied and not long after pushed his place forward and began sipping his tea.
“So what is this all about?” asked the Mayor setting down his glass cup.
“Well yes Mayor. I think we need to start mining more. Our town is dying. Everyone can see it. WE are all becoming menacingly poor! There is no food for the winter. Even the poor Artine’s had to leave their home in the forest to seek better fortune elsewhere.”
“You of all people, Mr. Autmus,” glared the Mayor, “you know that mining is a thing for the Erapuz’s!”
“And look what the Erapuz’s have! Fortune, fame, food for the winter.”
“We are above them.”
“And our economy and lively hood is below them! Don’t you see? We need a change, a change for something! We need food, shelter, proper clothing”
“Then leave!” interrupted Mr. Widol, “go find something. Find the answer. You think you know everything, but you don’t. You are not a true Bamric. You are just as good as a stupid no-nothing Erapuz’s!”
“Then I will go to them, and seek help for my family there!”
“Bant!” yelled a voice from the hallway, “you are going to them?”
“Yes my darling,” said Bant slowly and quietly.
The voice had come from a beautiful Bamric. It was Reng, it was Bant’s loving wife. Her long golden hair fell over her face as she sat down in a chair in the corner. Soft, gentle tears formed in her deep green eyes and dripped down her rosy cheeks.
“My darling,” began Bant, “don’t you wish you had a proper coat for the long winter ahead? Does that old hardly woven sweater even keep the chills from entering your beautiful bones?”
“I will be fine, but the children are not going great. Reney shivers now. She shivers constantly because of the great chill that has overtaken her. Runey will be fine, but he is a tired boy, even at the age of thirteen. His face grows long and his stomach growls because he wants to save food and thinks of ways to help the family constantly. Gant is a fine young man and he will soon leave the family. We can make it through the winter. We will be fine.”
“No we won’t! We suffered much last year and this year we are far worse off! I have to do something…” whispered Bant.
“Then leave,” mumbled the Mayor, “leave and don’t come back until you have found the answer!”
“I will then. I will leave and prosper just as my fathers did!” combated Bant.
“Your fathers are nothing but dead men!” chuckled the Mayor, “what have they ever done that was so great? Huh?” His eyes were beginning to gleam in the moonlight, which was now coming through the small window.
“My fathers told me of the great things of this world and of the people in this world. They have walked among the warrior heroes, studied with scholars from Bunshue and even died in the hopes of saving others! They loved unconditionally and judged fairly. More than you have ever done…” retorted Bant.
“Leave!” screamed the Mayor, beginning to be frustrated, “get out of my town, by Sunday! Take what you need and don’t come back until you find the answer.”
“What will happen to my wife, children, and family?”
“They can come and live with me. At least until you get back…”
“Very well. I will leave by Sunday. Good-day Mayor. I expect you know the way out?” gestured Bant.
April 27th, 2008 at 3:37 pm
The Boy With Blue Eyes
Chapter One
I was walking with my mom on 1st street when I caught his eye, glistening blue, across the street. All I did was smile at my mom to make it look like I was having fun. But who would when your with your mom. Went to all the stores and finished off with a nice liquid truffle at Benicia Bay CO. My mom had bought a pair of flip-flops at Piccolo, and two shirts at Benicia Bay Co. While we were exiting B.B.C I saw the guy again, only he was closer, he was walking in front of us. He turned his head slightly, just enough for me to see his deep sea blue eye. I turned my head so he wouldn’t see my face. At the next crosswalk we crossed over so we wouldn’t have to walk behind him anymore. Next we went to Christina S., I tried on two different dresses. One was okay, but the second one made me feel like a angel. It was flowy and white with sequences. I danced around, and then out of the corner of my eye I saw the guy again, staring at me through the window. He makes a little smile, so I smile back. “Ann come back,” my mom exclaims. Her voice shakes me out of his stare, and I walk back to the mirror without even a goodbye to him. While I was taking it off, I look at the price tag and it is $186. I couldn’t believe the price. We told the sale’s clerk, “We’ll be back, we just forgot our money.” But, of course we won’t, at least not for that dress. We left the store, and the guy was standing right there.
April 27th, 2008 at 10:45 pm
The Boy With Blue Eyes
Chapter 1 continued
I couldn’t believe my eyes, I couldn’t believe that he had actually waited for me. Mom told me, “I’ll go get some coffee at Starbucks and we will walk home when I get back.” She left me with him. The first thing I asked was, “What is your name?”
He answered, “Brandon, yours?”
“Jennifer, so you live near here?”
“Yea right across the street.”
“Oh, I live two blocks down.”
“Well, you looked really beautiful in that dress, like an angel.”
“Thanks, were you following me?”
“Sort of, if that isn’t creepy.” There was this awkward silence for about thirty seconds. He lifted his right hand and brushed his shaggy blonde hair out of his eyes, and with his left he sort of brushed or wiped his hand against her brown jacket. “Well I better get going,” he said. “My mom is expecting me home at 5:30.”
“Alright,” I responded.
“I guess I’ll see you when I see you!”
“Bye,” I said in a solemn one. I was a bit sad he left in such a hurry. I walked in Starbucks where my mom was in line. “Where’d your friend go,” she asked.
“Home, can you bye me a mocha frappucino? I am going home, I’ll see you there.” I handed her my money and left. I thought about Brandon the whole way home. The wind was speeding up, so she put her hands in her pockets to keep warm. Her hand hit something thin and sharp, she pulled it out and it was a piece of paper. She flipped it over, and it had Brandon’s name and his cell phone number. She realized he must have put it there when he brushed his hand against her.
April 28th, 2008 at 2:21 am
Chapter 1
Devastation can be the only word thought of. Deserted streets, crumbled buildings, cars crushed into minute shards of metal. Yet in the all of the carnage, there is still a sound: the faint projection of United States National Guard soldiers searching for any remaining survivors. As one of the few remaining squadrons rolls down 9th Street NW, a soldier looking from the outside orders for the humvie to stop, for there lay something in the road ahead of them. A closer examination reveals that it was the body of a Caucasian man laying face down on the rough asphalt. He put two fingers up to the man’s jugular. “We’ve got a pulse!” he shouted back to his fellow military colleagues, “Get a rescue unit ASAP!” A rescue truck was on the scene in what seemed like the speed of light. The unconscious soul was brought to a temporary emergency medical tent at the National Mall where hundreds more lie recovering from the chaos. Two days later the now stitched and bandaged man awakes from his coma. He turns his head in pain to the side where a nurse stands checking his heart rate. She soon notices he has awakened. “Don’t worry. You’re in safe hands with us,” she said in a gentle yet confident tone. “What is your name?” she asked him. The man took in a struggled, deep sigh. “Nolan. Chris Nolan.”
[One year earlier]
“Good morning D.C.! It is 7:15 am on this beautiful Thursday June 5, 2023. We’ve got highs up to 73 today with a low of 58. Traffic on Interstate 295 this morning is heavy in some parts with…” Chris Nolan was awakened to WRKL 102.5 fm morning news report. He quickly motioned his hand for the alarm button to turn it off. His wife, Leslie, was still fast asleep as she was not awakened by the alarm. Chris, however was already up and into the shower. Not to long after he was in the kitchen eating Special K cereal and reading USA Today. Leslie soon walked in rubbing her eyes from just waking up.
“Good morning sunshine,” Chris said in a soft, happy voice.
“Good morning,” she said back while stretching her arms.
“And how are we doing today?” he asked enthusiastically.
“I’m doing just fine.” she replied in a peachy voice.
“That’s great, because you know what?”
“What?”
“I finally booked our vacation to the Caribbean next summer.”
“You did? Oh thank you so, so much.”
She leaned forward and kissed him.
“It took so long for the travel agents to finally find an opening. It’s a full year away come on,” he said in a frustrated tone.
“Yeah well at least we have it now,” she said optimistically.
Chris looked at the clock and saw that it was 8 o’clock.
“I better get going.”
“Ok. What time will you be home?” She asked as he was walking towards the front door.
“About 6 or 7.” He said as he paused then continued to the front door.
He reached for his United States Army jacket bearing his name and his ranking in the Army. Leslie walked up as he was putting on the jacket. He picked up his brief case and kissed her goodbye.
“I’ll see you tonight,” she said, “Love you.”
“Love you to honey,” he said back as he was walking towards his Mercedes-Benz SLC.
Chris pulled up to the security gates of the Pentagon. He parked and went inside where he then went through security and then to the main complex where he met with Major General Richard Tretford.
“Welcome back Lieutenant Colonel Nolan,” Tretford said saluting as he walked in.
“It’s great to be back Major General.” Chris said back in relaxed voice.
“It was quite a feat to be able to rescue 16 hostages from Al-Qaeda forces in only one day,” Tretford said with very impressed look on his face.
“Well it was enough to put me on the cover of Time magazine,” he replied. The two men stood laughing for a second.
“But it even more good enough that Secretary of Defense Johnston wanted me to tell you that you are to be awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor.”
Chris stood there staring at Tretford as though he were waiting for someone to slap him across the face.
“Really? Oh my goodness this is such an honor. I’m speechless right now,” he said with a huge smile across his face and somewhat trembling, but feeling embarrassed acting like this in front of him.
“Are you all right Lieutenant?” Tretford asked awkwardly.
“Yes, I’m fine. This is just very exciting for me Major General. Thank you ever so much for this fantastic opportunity.”
“It is my pleasure.”
May 2nd, 2008 at 8:54 pm
Mr. Reed,
I understand this is novella is coming really late but it is the first chapter in a book I’ve been trying to write for a while. Hope you enjoy it.
“Franny”
Chapter 1:
“Francis Taylor Montgomery! Get your butt down here now!” Uh oh, that’s the battle cry of my retched mother Juliana Montgomery. In case you haven’t already figured it out, my name is Francis Taylor Montgomery. But, people just call me Franny, except my mother obviously. “I said now!” Well, I guess I better head down now. But before I do, to understand what’s about to happen let’s start all the way at the beginning to a “happier” time.
I was born 16 years ago to very happy second-time parent’s name Juliana and Boris Montgomery. They were so excited because they were expecting another beautiful boy to go along with their “perfect” little angel Bobby, a.k.a. my devil of a brother, and to have a “perfect” family…daughter free. But, they didn’t get a “perfect” boy or a “perfect” girl for that matter…they got me. Just plain me. When the doctor told my mom that she had a beautiful baby girl, you know what she did? She cried, and those tears weren’t tears of joy, they were tears of hate because she was sad she hadn’t had a boy.
When it came time for the “lucky” parents of baby girl Montgomery to name me (which was two weeks later) they settled on the boring grandma name Francis-which was really the 65 year old nurses name. The middle name came from a random point in the baby name book. And, of course the last name comes with the family- unfortunately for them. So, as you can see my parents weren’t really thrilled in having a cute little baby girl like me for a daughter…I was doomed to be the outcast of the family since birth. And, it didn’t get any better growing up either.
I was treated like a slave by always having to do chores while my fat stupid brother sat on the couch eating chips and watching his stupid football. When, I got teased in school; he never came to the rescue like they show in the movies. Half the time, he was the one making fun of me. It also didn’t help that I grew up having the most awful buckteeth and frizzy red hair (which no one in my family has by the way).
When I was ten I begged my mom for braces and she got them for me, but she still won’t live it down that she spent all the money on braces, gas for the car, and driving me to my appointments. But, I think it paid off, my teeth look great! So, to sum it up: I was born to a family of ungrateful couch huggers, I had a crappy childhood, I was treated like a freak in elementary school and middle school, and my life pretty much sucked. Until I met him…Ron Cohen.