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Aaaaack is offline
Join Date: May 2007 Location: My howse Age: 15 Posts: 167 Rep Power: 4 |  Basic Storyline Beginning [CQ]
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Gary
He hit the ground with a grin on his face. Rain peppered the highway from dark and jealous looking clouds. Two cars ahead, the man stumbled up and into a run. I can still see that man, clad in only military-styled boots and pants. The slow fifteen mile- per-hour traffic, and the way the drops of rain hit the window are also stained into my quilted mind. I was young then, I had no idea that the man who had jerked himself through traffic, and limp-sprinted into the slightly waterlogged woods would change the way I saw life. As harmless as the man seemed, the worried expression on my mother’s face told me that this was no ordinary event. I took note of the man’s facial features; the memories have lain dormant ever since. My name is Gary Pallus, and something terrible happened to me and the people that I (have come to) love.
Note To Readers.
Gary isn’t necessarily a child, he could be at least thirty for all I care, but I’m only adding three children into the novel at maximum (or whatever it becomes) for realistic reasons. Regardless of age, there will be seven people in all (Main Characters). Constantine has a son and that’s the other child besides Popeye.
Popeye and Squid
I looked at Squid. He was half-heartedly scribbling numbers onto a sheet of geometry homework. I never could remember why I became Popeye, Squid got his name because of his nasally, clogged up voice. I figured that if squids could talk, it would at least sound close to what Squid sounded like. Others call him Squid because he sounded like Squidward, from Sponge-Bob Square-Pants. As far as I was concerned, people who watched that show had an obviously large amount of time on their hands. Squid didn’t seem to mind, did he? Squid is (was) just too surrounded by life to tell anyone to stop calling him that. But this is beside the point; I haven’t told you how it all started (ended). Rain rained outside, there wasn’t much to be said about it, rain was rain and that was that. Of course there was thunder, but neither I nor Squid had seen lightning. “Do you think that you’ll ever pass geometry, Squiddy?” I murmured this, amused. On the other side of the lit room, Squid looked up with the eyes of an abused animal. “I’m workin’ on it, okay? Do your work or sumthin’, Pops.” I took heed of Squids ‘piss-off’ tone and switched my gaze somewhere elsewhere, anywhere elsewhere. I found myself turned towards my laptop. ’TWENTY GIG HARD DRIVE 50% OFF!’ An orange sticker proclaimed above the screen. I sighed a quick sigh that dropped in tone as I uttered it. Squid looked up at me and then back down. Rotate the triangle 90º, then translate point B to (3,-6). After reading this from his sheet, Squid returned a sigh of equal octave compared to mine. We both looked at each other for a brief second, somewhat like stunned dear. Squid looked down at the forearm placed on the homework, scratched his scab, and set back to work. Laughter and knocks sounded from the room left of ours, I glanced momentarily to my left, and then set my head down to rest on top of my strangely cheap-looking desk. A knock from the door sounded dully throughout our room. I lifted and cocked my head backwards only to find that Eddie was at the door, licking his lips in a mock-sexual manner (or was it?). Squid’s head rose a moment later, after some amount of scrawling numbers and parenthesis. I crept out of between my chair’s arm rests, snorted, and crossed the path between the door and my seat. I didn’t so much as touch the knob. I altered my face into a happily fashioned smile while folding my arms behind my back. My upper lip raised, and I gave Eddie the biggest buck-toothed smile that I can ever remember giving someone. He withdrew with a disgusted grin, and knocked again. “Open it, dammit.” Squid’s voice resonated for a moment before I understood what he’d wanted. I turned the golden (brass) handle until it clicked, and Eddie barged in. I lethargically returned to my position at the desk while Eddie bugged Squid about a pencil sharpener. It was, from what I saw before my head was down, now 6:40 P.M. I haven’t seen James “Squid” Kersh or Eddie Indigo since that day, the day with the rain, the regular rain, the rain without lightning.
Wilting Rose
As the plants in the garden doubled over from the weight of the rain drops, Rose stared dreamily out into the cold and unforgiving land that she lives in. Out into the cul-de-sac, her eyes wandered, knees on the couch, stomach against the back, her elbows balanced, propped into the bottom of her chin. It was just last week since she’d had a cigarette and her the withdrawal phase was coming to a short end. She gave a short, whimpering, sigh before tears began to flood over her skin. Calm. She thought this, while at this exact moment, she wasn’t. It wasn’t because of him, it wasn’t because her family was dead, gone. It was because she wasn’t. The exact opposite of left-for-dead, the terror that struck deep inside her, to be left alone in the world. Why hadn’t he killed me? It wasn’t fair. He took them, took them away… away from me… from the world. Unjust, immoral. It doesn’t have to end this way. But she had gone through this many times before, and was too weak to succeed. The rope was there, in her closet, the one up the stairs and to her right. It was hanging there, lonely looking, stool beneath it. It would take one snap, one key, to unlock her door, to her family, in heaven. But I’m weak. It wasn’t just that she was weak, it was her faith. Ever since the incident with him, Rose Spinnelli’s faith in God dwindled away. Will I ever see them again? It wasn’t a thought anymore; it was a statement on the chalk board in her mind. For the last four years, she sat in class, staring at this chalk board, pondering (him). If she was to kill herself, would she flow into the bowels of hell, and burn for eternities? Would she find herself in heaven, with a last chance to see her family? Or would she be comforted by a purgatory like stillness in which her mind would cease to exist? Nothing mattered anymore, and nothing ever would for Rose after that day, a day like this, when the clouds thundered, but the light never showed.
Before
It was odd, like seeing a green cat. It was possible, yes, but the chances seemed slim. Daniel was asleep by eight and he hadn’t even gone out to the pool. No jumping (watch this Daddy!) or diving, holding his breath, no scaring the hell out of him by tripping. Constantine pondered (weak and weary) the way his son’s behavior was tonight, and came to a slight conclusion that he was just tired from the drive. After four hours or so of whizzing through mountains, they pulled the Volks-wagon in at a Motel Fast Stop (With Pool!!). Elbows flat on the desk, head down atop these, he stared at the cream (or tan?) colored drywall. Plaster ceiling fell in sideways rock-slides as the up-stair neighbors slammed their door and flopped (fell down dead) onto the bed. He kicked the memory out of his mind, with such an astonishing force, that it must have just bounced on back after hitting his skull. FELL DOWN DEAD. He ignored it with intensity, teeth clenched. “You up, buddy?” The covers ruffled slightly, a potato sack-sized lump was obviously trying to sit up under them. Hair disheveled, eyes blinking, Daniel turned towards his father with one hand on the bed. “What, Daddy?” ‘What’ was punctuated with a slight curiosity. ‘Daddy’ sounded hoarse, with slight embarrassment, it could have been pure innocence, but Constantine didn’t know. “I just wanted to see if you’d like to go to the pool. It’s still open.” His voice drew back slowly as Daniel lay down. “Noo thanks.” High pitched at first, but it drew back as he shifted positions. Constant could just see the smile on his sons face as he said it. “Alright, if you change your mind, I’ll be reading.” It sounded sorry, honest, but stern. “Whatcha’ reading, Daddy?” Interested, sincere. “Oh it’s just another Stephen King, the scary author. This one’s called It.” Informative, immature, relatively proud. “How long is it?” Constantine flipped through the pages but was interrupted. “Wait, no! Can I guess, can I?” Daniel didn’t give him time to answer. “Ah-Thousand!” A child’s way of saying one-thousand, it sounded with Daniels speech impediment like ‘Uh-Fousand!’ “Well I’ll be damned, Danny, that was a good guess!” Daniel smiled at ‘damned’ and laughed after Constant finished speaking. “Holy crap! Ah-Thousand pages! Really?” Constantine gave a smile of his own and set the book down onto the desk, half behind him. “You were very close, Danny, I have to hand it to you.” It sounded dramatic, and to finish the effect off, Constant put on his high-eyebrows. “How many!?” The way Daniel said ‘How many’ sounded like a statement. Constantine beckoned with his hand for Daniel to come look, and at the same time, he lowered his head to look at his watch. FELL DOWN DEAD. He looked up startled and saw only Daniel trip-slipping his way through the covers on the ground. He reached for the book and found nothing. FELL DOWN DEAD. While glancing at his watch, it had disappeared, and as a natural human would have done, he looked on the floor and in the opposite direction. “Danny, you have my book?” His eyes were stern but he sensed no danger. Daniel looked up and stared at where the book would have been. “No, why?” This question also sounded like a statement. FALL DOWN DEAD. The voice resounded from the walls, caving in on him. He blinked and shook his head, and began another search for the book. “Danny, look on the ground for the book, would you?” He said it with a stressing, and eerily old sounding tone. What’s happening…? Constantine thought drearily for another moment before resuming his search. “Uhh, okay Daddy.” Danny crouched and looked under the bed, Constant got up and looked under the chair. Their search resumed for another minute or two before Daniel got tired and flopped down into where Constant had been sitting. “It’s nowhere, Daddy!” That’s not possible, Danny, you see, things don’t just fucking disappear. They don’t, and they never will, because it’s not fucking possible, it isn’t natural, the world doesn’t work th— “Oh well, we’ll look tomorrow morning, alright Danny?” Constantine and Danny agreed on this, and later went to sleep in separate beds. By morning Danny was snuggled up with his back against his father, warmheartedly snoring and smiling. Constant couldn’t help but think about the voice, because after the last time it sounded, he turned and looked through the bathroom window. The pale, bald figure that shot out of view could have been anyone. Anyone without pupils, anyone who’s skin tone is light lime green. He fell asleep three hours after Daniel. It had just begun to rain.
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Last edited by Aaaaack; 07-17-2008 at 03:29 PM.
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