Prolouge: Useless in the Murder City (2/3)

I don’t know what happened, well besides the part that I actually fell asleep. It was now 9:47PM and my nose twitched as some God awful smell filled my nostrils. Quickly, changing tactic, I began breathing with my mouth. It wasn’t long till I gagged on the taste and scent that consumed my mouth and nose.
Smoke was wafting its way through my window. The disgusting scent cigarette smoke was in the air and my peaceful face turned quickly into a hideous scowl. I gripped the gun tighter in my right hand; feeling and realizing that it wasn’t its normal cold, but sweaty and warm. I reclined quickly back up. My mind blurred quickly of colors as someone in front of me turned their car lights on at maximum strength. I keeled back, seeing purple, yellow, brown, and green dots bur my sight. I felt blind and my mind was making me feel nauseas.
I coughed, I felt like I forgot how to breathe as my mind seemed to straighten out on what was happening. My hands flew up to my eyes to keep any light from getting in so they could recover quickly. Funny shapes appeared in front of me and I looked down, hands still clamped to my head. The sensation of a headache could be felt in the front of my head and I leaned over quickly to mute the radio.
Silence, besides the leaving car that was in front me could only be heard, and the slow, wheezy breathing of someone right outside my window. I coughed as more cigarette smoke incased my car and me. Then a wheezy, choky voice came through, breathing more smoke into my face.
“Heh-heh. Poor soul.” This person said, speaking in a heavy accent.
I tried to look at the figure, but all I could see was a blurred outline of a pale white figure in a gray outfit, a uniform of a gang or group of some sort. More colorful dots covered my vision of this guy. “Hey dude, can you back away. I don’t have time with you. Drop the cigarette too, smoking is a dirty habit. The smell is disgusting.” I said, blinking and trying to adjust my eyes.
The figure chuckled again and he seemed to nod. “With pleasure.”
A small flame seemed to of sprouted from the cigarette and the next thing I knew was a sharp, burning sensation on my left cheek of my face. I could feel the flame and ash gouging into my skin. “AHHWGH! YOU BASTERED!” I screeched with a horrible groan and I wrenched the cigarette out of my left cheek and brushed the ashes off of my thin pants.
The figure laughed out loud this time and I reached for my gun, ready to inflect as much pain as I could to this asshole. I stuck my hand back into my pouch and groped for the gun, but all I felt was cloth and warmth from where my hand was only seconds ago. Shock jolted through me and my movements seemed to slow down. I moved my feet around to feel if the gun was lying upon the floor. After a quick two second search, realization went through me.
I could feel cold sweat form on my forehead and come out of every pore on my arm, face, and legs. I bolted my eyes to the window. I winced as I looked up to see the figure and the lamppost next to him. The figure was waving something almost right in my face and humming something that sounded closely to: Nanana-Booboo-look what I stole from you. How the hell did he get my gun?
There was fast movement and I spluttered yet again and gasped for air as I felt a boney, white hand grasp and squeeze tightly upon my throat. I could feel my windpipe as pressure was applied to it. What’s happening?! I’m choking damn it!
I opened my mouth to cry out for help but I felt more pain as hot, fiery ash fell into my mouth. I screamed! I could feel my buds being scarred and burned as the ash fell upon it.
My jaw was grasped and my burned cheek gushed out blood of the still stinging burn. Then I had the taste of metal in my mouth.
Shock seemed to rush through me. My gun was in my mouth. I could see the boney white finger wrapped around the gun’s trigger. I froze, as if dead on the spot. My veins were pulsating fast and out of control; fast enough that I could feel it pulsating right underneath my skin. My heart was killing me, it didn’t seem possible for my heart to beat this fast. Was it possible?
The person’s face pulled a small grin. It then came close to the window, centimeters from my nose. I could smell him. The scent of mud, filth and cigarette smoke was in front of me. I stared back at this person, my eyes dilated with fear.
It opened its mouth, and from the light of the moon and lamppost, I saw black and yell teeth smile back at me. It took in a deep inhale of breath and its mouth was almost touching my nose. It sighed and said, in a low, fast and hoarse voice, "Sinner alla luce, la luce mi posso sbarazzare del sole morente. Perché, anche se ci perdonerà i vostri peccati, portare il proprio per tutto il tempo come la tua vita porta una nuova fine. Possa il Signore di tutti loro ti perdono e il peccatore sotto la tua lode.”

Ch.1: A Splash of Slushy (2/4)

"Me?" I said my voice shaky and nervous.
"Yes, now Mr. St. John!" She said her voice very firm, "You were involved with this as well."
I stared at my paper and the unfinished sentence that I had. I wasn't done yet! Why did I have to turn my paper in? Why?! I looked at her and she put her hand out.
I stood up, quickly scribbling my name and date on my paper so as not to lose any further points. I put it on the palm of her hand and, in front of me; she crumbled it up into a ball and threw it the waste basket by her desk.
I could've been shot by a bullet or had a stroke but I stared at her and then the trash bin. Rage and frustration rose up in me.
"You boys will be receiving zeros for the days test, work, and participation grade, and I will be emailing your parents." She said in a calm voice. She then gave a big smile at me and hatred and confusion was pulsating through my body.
I could've hit something, no; I could've beaten the crap out of the jocks. However, I stood there, frozen, just staring at her with a shocked, blank face. “You can go back to your seat now St. John.” Ms. Davidson whispered to me.
I walked back to my desk, crushed and empty. I could hear the jocks giggling again and my blood was running hot, running down my neck slowly. The kid who sat next to me tossed a note and a bandage onto my desk not glancing at me. I took it, not really wanting to read it, opening it, nearly ripping it, and read it:
"Sorry about what just happened. You didn't deserve that crap. Talk to the teacher after class, I hope she will understand and give your paper a [good] grade. Those brainless nimrods, they deserved to be punished. Not you.”
Chris
This didn't make me feel any better, but a piece of my mind was thanking Chris for the note of encouragement and the bandage. I wiped the blood from my neck and quickly put the bandage upon the punctured spot. I looked down at my desk, waiting to see if anything would happen. Get another piece of paper and start writing you fool! Stop wasting precious time! I swung myself over to my bag and dug for a scrap piece of paper. Unlike my mind, which was clear and organized, my bag was a disaster. I grabbed a science paper, found a blank side, and started rewriting. There is a pile of papers by the pencil sharpener you brainless moron! Don't use a science paper!
I got up smoothly and took fast steps over to the stack of notebook papers, grabbed at least twenty or thirty pieces of paper and rushed back to my desk. Thinking and remembering what I had just written minutes ago. Something about leaves whispering to one another and lying underneath a tree?
It just wasn't coming to me, I had to start over.
I starred around the room, looking for anything to get my brain going, but all I could feel was my pulse pounding, sweat forming on my forehead, anger and fear, and the jocks staring at me. I took a deep breath and then looked around the room. I stopped and staring at Ashley Longview. My heart seemed to beat faster as I looked at her long, sandy hair, her slightly tan skin and her green, sea green eyes.
“Ten minutes left in here." Mrs. Davidson sung aloud.
It then clicked in my mind. I unclenched my teeth and began to write quickly.
(You can see open on the last page.)
I grimaced, not really sure how good this would go with Mrs. Davidson. Last second work didn't come to well to me, and this felt very sloppy. Better than a zero, she has to except it; I worked on it and tried.
“Two minutes!" she announced enthusiastically
I looked over at Mrs. Davidson and at the clock. At least a minute was left and I felt like crap sitting there with a quick, off the top of my head poem and a perfectly, okay one in the garbage bin with a good start off sentence...to my own opinion.
A kid behind me started counting down from twenty; I took in a deep breath, and started packing some of my materials away.
The bell rang with a dull, electrical sound and all the jocks shot out of their desk and hurried out the door, talking animatedly to each other. I stood up with Chris patting my back and I walked over to Ms. Davidson. "Umm, Ms. Davidson, why did you throw my paper away?" I asked, my voice slowly becoming firmer. She looked up at me and smiled a big smile. My mind was shouting hundreds of questions and anger was coating those questions....But she answered the first question that was in my mind.
“Seth, do you think I would throw your paper away?"
"No. But I saw-"
She cut me off, "You saw me throw Mr. Chadwick's paper. Yours is right here." She raised the paper from her desk. I looked at her with surprise and wonder. "You looked moody and tired so I thought to give you a wake-up call. Plus, I am amazed at your poetry." she said, snatching my paper in my hand, reading it.
"But you yelled at me and...Mrs. Davidson...why? Do you know how pissed I was? I mean. Don't ever do that! Please. Do what Mr. Storm does...throw a textbook at me or at least drop it on me." I said, bewildered and still a bit angry.

Ch.1: A Splash of Slushy (1/4)

"Mr. St. John, wake up! Class is over!" A slightly agitated voice whispered into my ear. I heard a loud cracking sound as the person dropped a textbook next to me.
"What," I said stupidly with a tired moan. I looked up and saw my teacher, Mr. Storm. I groaned and shook my head, shaking the sleep off.
"Now Mr. St. John, you know how I detest laziness in my classroom. What is with you? You are ten minutes late for Mrs. Davidson's class!" He snarled into my ear.
Mr. Storm taught U.S. History and, unfortunately, my grades weren't making as good as an impression of me as I had hoped. He was an old man, with little patience, bladder problems, and very sexist, which is another reason why I am on the verge of flunking. A silver goatee sprouted under his chin and reached the top of his chest, tied up with a string with two gold, clanging balls.
I got up quickly, shoving my textbook and folder into my backpack, stood, and slung the bag over my shoulder, regretting it as I felt the edge the textbook jab into my back.
I reached the door, sneered and I turned the doorknob.
"Mr. St. John! One more time in my classroom and it's a detention! And I will be contacting your parents!” he hollered as I took off out the door.
My head was spinning from all that had just happened in the last few seconds. What was with that dream, the book slamming, the pissed off teacher-
"Why aren't you in class Mr. St. John?" a distant voice called out from behind me, stopping my train of thought.
I turned around, caught by surprise, to see my principal in the hallway, giving me a wry smile. I returned the smile and replied in an exhausted, hoarse voice, "Mr. Storm-"
"Say no more, I understand. He should be retiring soon...a man at his age should be lying in a coffin by now." The principal said, as if he said the sentences before, shaking his head.
"Oh man, what a shame." I lied, holding back a grin.
There was that awkward silence; I shrugged and waved bye. The principal repeated the gesture, smiling widely this time.
I kept walking away and now started moving a tad faster now. However, really, a party had started in my head, screaming “Bon voyage!” If I could've danced, I would've started up a little jig and run down the gray, hollow hallway, yelling my head off that the old fart was leaving and repeating "Free at last, free at last, Oh thank God that we are free at last!" Nevertheless, that would just be stupid.
The hallway was empty besides the loose paper the was strewn across the floor and the occasional student coming in and out of a classroom to finish up some late homework or run an errand for their teacher. The lockers were decorated with birthday paper or with some Expo Marker drawings. One locker read, in a very sloppy mess as if someone was trying to rub it away: John Michael & Jessie, September 28th, 2009. The clock in the hallway had the numbers 11:29AM in an enormous, red format. The hallway was now starting to smell like Axe deodorant, but of course, a can lay beside the right side wall, busted open and leaking a water like substance all over the floor.
It was embarrassing to be late to a class. The second you enter a classroom, even a tad or a smidgen late, the whole classroom will echo with students yelling, "Late, late, late!" well, they are that mature. So, guess what happened when I walked in through the oak door one minute later?
That’s right….
"Late, late, late!" The jocks started saying, raising their voices even louder to get Ms. Davidson's attention and get the others to say, "late!"
My face went red as the door slammed behind me and as the yells came flying at me like bullets. Then I took one step and fumbled over a kid's backpack; a burst of laughter erupted from this and I hurried to my desk. The students still pointing at me and laughing at me...the girls looking at the whiteboard, not paying me any attention.
I gazed at Ms. Davidson; she was a tall woman with lengthy blonde hair, dark green eyes, and a dress on with beagle pendant hanging from her neck. She was nodding her head to something that the person on the other end had said. She seemed a bit annoyed. She hung up her phone and stood up from her velvet chair, shaking her head, letting her hair fan out. She walked over to the board and wrote down the assignment of the day: POP WRITING QUIZ". Then she moved her hand over to the Homework: "EXTRA CREDIT OPPRITUNITY: WRITE ANOTHER PAGE (+5)."
The jocks groaned and the girls started whispering excitedly. I smiled to myself, when it came to writing, I knew that the jocks in the classroom had the brain size of a grape; all they knew about in their whole lives were who were the hottest girls and sports. The girls, however, knew what they were going to write about...Twilight related things, or clothes, or the puppy or kitten. I mean, the Twilight movies had become such a big hit and plus, girls love cute, little animals. Well, maybe some of them.
"Quiet! All of you! You too, Chance!" Ms. Davidson yelled at the guys in the corner of the room, silencing them as if she had struck them all in the face. Then she smiled with white teeth that seemed to sparkle. "Good morning class."
"Good morning Ms. Davidson," The class said in an exhausted voice.
"Well class, this may take up all of the class period so, take out a pen or pencil that is not red and start writing. Today is a free style write. Write whatever you want. However, I will not take slang or words that have been shortened. Use your common sense and don't write anything bad. You may start now." She said, glaring down the jocks.
I pulled out a stray piece paper and a mechanical pencil and clicked it, releasing a millimeter of 0.7 lead. I put the pencil to the piece of paper that lay upon my desk, and started writing....
I reread it repeatedly, smiling to myself. I felt a rush of accomplishment flow over me and the sensation of being smart.
Giggling started to erupt from the jocks and I starred up at them to see what they were laughing at or whom they were laughing at. They stopped immediately, when I made eye contact with them and I grit my teeth. I looked back at my paper and decided to go for the extra credit. I already wrote a poem, what about some super, short story? Sure, that sounds good!
'The trees leaves seemed to whistle to each other as I lay there, under the shelter of the tree. I could hear-' something whizzed through the air and an object struck my neck. I hissed, touching the spot. A bead of blood was already coming out of my neck. I looked at the object that had hit me. A hornet bullet, a folded piece of paper with a tiny needle sticking out lay there on the floor. The jocks burst into laughter, banging their hands on the desk as they gasped for air, as they turned red from laughter.
Mrs. Davidson looked up from her desk and gazed over to me and then to the jocks. "Quiet! People are still writing! Bring your papers to me now! They will be graded as they are!" she said in a menacing tone.
Everyone fell silent and the jocks stood up still smiling from what one of them had just done. They handed out blank pieces of paper to Mrs. Davidson and her face became even more livid as they turned in more blank pieces of papers. One of the boys blew a kiss at me and whispered, on his way back to his desk, "Need mommy to kiss your boo-boo?"
I put my head down and my hand on my neck, rubbing the pain away and wiping the blood off. "You too Mr. St. John, turn in what you have. You were involved with this too." I looked, confused and dumbfounded. I stared up at her in disbelief.

Prolouge: Useless in the Murder City (1/3)

Life, so easy, so fragile. I would know; we all should know. Tuh, we all take it for granted now, don’t we? Don’t say or tell me that we haven’t at least once. Everywhere you look, you see someone either riding they’re new Camaroe, the roar of the engine making them feel superior. Or the old, unshaven man wedged between the bridge gaps.
I know this is probably a pointless beginning but I know, and you know that it is true.
I sat in my Ford F-150, breathing heavily, opening and closing my eyes, trying to relax. Obviously, the Miley Cyrus song wasn’t helping so I flipped the XM Radio channel. Green Day came through and I smiled, “awh, Viva la Gloria…such a nice song” I said to myself.
I waited patiently for my brother in the Albertson-Mega Mini Mart parking lot; row C, parking space number forty-eight. I stared at the radio for the time. The time flashed green and I groaned. I got here exactly thirty-seven minutes ago, what can be taking so long? It was 8:52 PM and chilly outside.
Feeling of numbness crawled from the tips of my fingers to my hands; I reached out for the heat control. Without thinking, I jammed the knob to full heat. A gust of hot, putrid air shot out at me and I coughed, waving it away from me. Sneering, I rolled down the window to let out some of the hot, musty air.
The air outside was just bone-chilling, literally. Bumps seem to erupt from my skin and my spine seemed to be zapped. “Stupid car and its unbearable smell of heat; stupid weather,” I grumbled under my breath.
The meteorologist predicted that the strong cold front would come in, didn’t know it was going to be this cold. –For you people saying that Global Warming is real, then why is it cold? Oh, right! It doesn’t exist! Score one for me! - But I took in a deep breath of the cold air. It was nice, striking, crisp and quite pleasing to the feel. But my skin protested.
A roar of an engine sounded beside me and I looked to my left, outside of my open window. An old Firebird revved up next to me. I drew my attention away from the old antique car and closed my eyes, listening to another Green Day song: St. Jimmy. I felt at peace as the heat of my air conditioner and nature’s cold settled down upon me. This is quite nice.
Who knows, I could’ve drifted off to sleep, but that’s why I had the punk rock song on, to keep my blood flowing and me awake. But it was too good: Nature’s Weather Blanket to resist. My alert brain became slowly dull as sleep incased it.
The Firebird honked its horn and I jolted out of my seat, hitting my head against the hood of my Ford. I swore out loud and looked outside my window to glare at the Firebird. “What the Hell man? You’re in a parking lot for Christ sake!” I said to the stranger in the car.
The window rolled down slowly and a fragile hand stuck out. It then raised its middle finger. I stared at the finger and glanced away. Immature old person. I had to urge to yell back at him, but didn’t. I glanced back at the radio. It was turned off in sleep mode. I touched the button and it glowed back to life, music spewing from the speakers.
The world seemed to grow darker as the moon hid amongst the clouds and the sun is engulfed by the earth.
My brother was taking too long and this must have been the first time I left my cell phone at home. Idiot, why did you leave your phone at home?
I did not stray out of my car to go retreive my brother; rumors have flown from place to place of a French or Italian gang had been breaking and robbing cars and items from people. With that on my mind, my bravery status seemed to drop. More, then better of me surrendering the car and my belonging.
I reclined my seat back to relax a bit longer as I waited. But before my seat was fully inclined, I reached out for 9 Millimeter Pistol, cradling it in my hand. I flipped the safety on and opened the canister to see how many bullets remained. The ammo rack was full; I guess I never have used this before. The gun was cold and it gave me a since of power and authority, sort of that: I can Rule the World, type of feeling. I put canister back in and, making sure the safety was completely on, I laid back and reclined my seat further, the gun in my right hand, in my hoody pouch, finger next to the trigger.

More to come soon, i promise. I just have to keep checking and double checking my writing.
Your Host, Kyle

The Informent Letter: My Very First Post

Create.
-3 minutes later-
Hey everybody, just want to say hey.
"Hey."

Okay, i guess i better get down to business. I write this blog for the my love of writing Short and Long Stories. I'm a teen just wanting exposure to the world and getting and taking comments from you, reader. I will start immediately.
I will have multiple stories so i will have them separated in the tabs category.

The Warning: I am lack on my use of swear words so, yes, i have cuss words within some of my stories.

I love you guys and girls, already, for reading this and commenting! Any response from "I love it" to "this sucks" will be great. Advice, long or short....PERFECT!

This is my first couple steps to becoming a future writer and i will enjoy it even more with your support.

And your and younger kids safety, will post a Rating above the post before reading avaible.