My first chapter( completed version)?

Chapter One:


Predetermined Notions




















Nicholas


I was stalking down the cereal produce aisle of some unknown convenience store that my mind had derived from somewhere deep in my subconscious. The place was completely desolate of any living thing, with the exclusive exception of myself. In reality, I suppose the bleakness of the place would have disturbed or even frightened me, but, here and now, I wasn’t perturbed by this nuance whatsoever.


The only thing that I felt now was the mad, strange desire that utterly consumed me, the desire that repeatedly told me I had to find it now. Right now. If I couldn’t find it than my trip here had been nothing but an absolute waste of time.


But I couldn’t fail. That much I knew was fact.


My eyes flickered hopefully among the shelves that contained innumerable amounts of generic cereal boxes. As I walked down the aisle, my hope plummeted further and further with every step my feet took that led to the end. The end of the aisle. The end of all hope. I was penultimately close to it and when my hope tried to submerge more, it found that there was nowhere else to spiral downwards to now that it had hit rock bottom. Which was were I had indisputably found myself at now that I had reached the close.


I turned around with the false precedent engraved inside of me that I had simply looked over the biased treasure that I desired so much, only to find empty shelves that had been full to bursting just moments ago.


This was pandemonium in it most subtle form which only made it worse than it would have been if all Hell’s demons had been let loose before me. I was filled with dread and foreboding almost immediately. I had been led here under fraudulent pretenses, which could only resolve to one thing: I had stumbled into what conclusively had to be a trap.


Then it sprang, as if my mind had strayed upon the single thought that could set it off. And I was devoured whole with inexplicable pain beyond anything of which I had ever felt before. Pain that sneaked into the bowels of my chest and crawled gradually toward my heart that beat fewer upon every fraction of space enclosed between them. With every short breath I took I was positive that it would be my last as the florescent lights above flickered off, leaving me in unquenchable darkness.


My knees wobbled and gave way. I braced myself for the collision between bone and the concrete floor beneath only to find myself precariously sinking through the darkness below. My body unwillingly turned over so that I was falling headfirst to whatever lay beyond, writhing from the ceaseless pain in the nothingness that surrounded me.


Death could be the only resolution to this, and I would willingly embrace that if in turn I was spared from the state of being I found myself in now.


Finally, I had reached the long awaited bottom: The carpeted floor of my room. There was a searing stitch of real pain in my chest as if I had just ran a marathon and to compliment this my hair was matted from the sweat that trickled down my face and into my shirt. My bed sheets lay loosely at my feet alongside my naked pillow; its case was nowhere to be found. I breathed in heavily, regretting the action instantly as the stitch in my chest seethed.


Slowly, I rose to my feet that were unusually weak. The digital alarm clock upon the nightstand beside my bed read 7:40 A.M. Perfect. My internal clock had wakened me up five minutes before the blaring rendition of my external one. If all went according to how previous school mornings had gone Mom would be knocking on my door to awake me in place of the alarm clock that seldom failed to in about five minutes.


I kicked my pillow and bed sheets away from my feet as I stumbled over to sit down upon the bed I had fallen out of. I set my elbows onto my knees and bent over to cup my face into the sweaty palms of my hands, pondering as time permitted, the reason behind the now subsiding pain embraced within me.


Had it been a dream that had caused me to thrash in my bed and inevitably fall out of it? I tried to recall the probable nightmare that had caused me to do so, but my mind formed upon no concrete solution. Only the taste of corn flake cereal Mom always preferred to buy came to me. This was in no way associated with what I was perplexed with now, so I set it aside as my stomach obtrusively informing me of its hunger. I customarily never remembered what my dreams retained for me, so it came to be as no big surprise that my despondent attempt had failed.


Even if it had been a dream, that would in no way provide a satisfactory answer as to what had spawned the alien pain manifested inside of me. It was still gradually evaporating and had almost completely abated, which left me wondering if the initial pain had ever been there to begin with.


I was no stranger to physical pain, having gotten into numerous fights back in middle school, but that didn’t seem to be the source of the dilemma brewing within. This was not something tangible, nowhere near my range of comprehension. I lifted my head out of my hands and let them freely caress the area of my chest above my steadily thumping heart, which is where the core of the pain had been rooted. I had expected to find some lump there but only found it to be as normal and smooth as it had been the day before.


The pain had now ceased to exist.


Instead of being overwhelmed with a wave of relief that I had expected to surge throughout me, I was engulfed with remorse and longing for what had illegitimately left me. And at this, I was utterly baffled.


A loud, rasping noise verberated upon my room’s door, causing me to jump from shock as I was grudgingly wrenched out of my profound stupor.


“Nicholas! Nich—“ called Mom’s voice from the other side of my locked door.


“I’m up, I’m up!” I interrupted, the springs of my mattress creaking as I got off it. I was inwardly appreciative of the pieces of mettle embedded in my door that barricaded me in and warded her from seeing the mess on the other side.


“Well hurry and get up to take a shower. I want you to eat a good breakfast today as well, gets your mind prepared for the first day of a new semester at school.”


I heard the close sound of her footsteps begin and slowly disperse, which announced she had walked away from my room door and hopefully to her own. My eyes darted towards the digital clock that had gone off with the blaring beeping noise that I detested so much; it now read 7:45 A.M. With a heavy, painless sigh, I bent over to pick up the tussled pillow and sheets below.


I went downstairs to eat my nourishing breakfast after taking care of the morning’s usual: brushing my teeth, taking a shower, washing my hair, and changing into the clothes that I would wear at school today. The previous events of earlier this morning were no longer plaguing my mind as persistently as before. One of the few things I prided myself on: If a memory were too painful or confusing to bear I would simply blockade it from entering any vestige of my thoughts, which in turn numbed any sense of disquiet wrought by it.


I stepped into the vividly decorated kitchen under the impression that I was the only one occupying it. I had walked past one of the white and blue chairs of the table when a slightly vibrating something brushed against my leg. The kitchen wasn’t as vacant as I had thought it was; my mom’s pet cat Sylvester would be spontaneously joining me for breakfast this morning. He purred contently as he pranced over to his food bowl in the corner, his black tail was erect in the air at apparent ease with the world.


How lucky for him that life came at such easy strides, I thought to myself as I opened one of the kitchen’s cabinets that contained nothing but breakfasting foods. My eyes scanned over the multiple choices of variety that it offered. Contrary to the lust for the generic corn flakes that I had desired in my room earlier, I felt a peculiar sense of aversion to it now. I chose a box of strawberry Pop-Tarts instead, ignoring the bright yellow box that pleaded me to be opened.


After I had ripped open the Pop-Tart’s wrapping and hastily stuffed the pastries into my mouth, I dashed back upstairs to fetch my car keys and nearly empty book bag. I gave my a room a final swift look to ensure myself that I left it in decent order just in case Mom decided to unlock it with the spare key I’d given her and pilfer through it after she came back from work. Everything seemed to look all right, or as close to all right as I had time to allow it to; the clock now read 8:30 A.M. I didn’t live very far away from the school so it usually only took me three minutes at most to get there by car, but the bustling ambush that was sure to ensue from the likewise latecomers trying to cut in line to get their schedule’s first was very likely to delay me a couple of minutes. I wouldn’t put it pass some of the teachers to count me tardy if I was late, regardless of if it was the first day of school or not. So I rushed out of my room, pointlessly locking the door behind me before shutting it.


I paced myself at a rate that was almost a run as I headed down the stairs and through the front door. Mom’s burgundy SUV was no longer in the driveway even though I hadn’t heard her leave. She must have left while I was taking a shower, which would definitely explain the relatively undisturbed breakfast I had had. I unlocked the door to my silver Honda Accent and swung myself inside of its stuffy interior. Without bothering to buckle my seatbelt, I jammed the key into its ignition and pulled out of the driveway without taking a glance into the rear view mirror for passing cars.


The speedometer dial pointed to 60 as I drove past a speed sign that had 45 MPH written upon it in bold, black script. I only slowed down after taking a difficult turn around a street corner and almost having a head-on collision with a yellow Lamborghini that honked its horn resentfully at me. I let it drive in front and was forced to creep along at a snail’s pace of 25 now that we had passed the flashing orange and yellow lights that indicated the entry of a school zone. The clock above the car’s radio dial read 8:35 A.M. I now only had ten minutes to find a parking space, go to the Gym to get my schedule, and make a nearly fatal attempt at finding a class that could possibly located all the way at the end of the school building. I followed behind the Lamborghini into the school’s almost full parking lot. Pressing my foot hard on the acceleration, I swerved around it and gracefully parked into the free space that I was sure they had had their eyes set on.


I yanked my car keys out of their ignition and made a motion to unlock my seatbelt until I remembered that I hadn’t bothered to take the trouble of putting it on in the first place. I stepped out the car and saw the Lamborghini crawling along at a ridiculously slow pace behind my car. As I peered through the slightly tinted window to get a glimpse of who would be driving a vehicle infamous for its top-notch speed at such a distressing manner, my eyes fell upon a singularly raised middle finger that propagated itself from a hand belonging to the horribly familiar face of Tony Brink. Not horrible because of his physical features but because of the memories spawned by them. On the contrary he was anything but unattractive, even that I had to admit. Dangerously blue eyes and blonde hair; beautiful facial features accompanied by an epically sculptured body and set of dazzling teeth.


A distantly familiar beast growled inside of me. I chose to ignore the evident provocation of retaliation and stooped back in my car to grab my book bag. After scooping it off the car floor and slinging it over my shoulder, I grabbed the car keys off my seat and shut then locked the door. Turning my back on the mounting hostility prickling behind me, I mechanically walked onward to the entrance of my eight-hour jail cell. The sound of a roaring engine and the squeak of rubber tires upon the gravel announced it was safe to relax a little and hasten my pace a lot. I was still racing and dismally losing against the ticking clock. The fierce blowing winds sent cold ripples of nostalgia down my spine, causing me to shiver.


I shoved open one of the black double doors that led into a small area to traverse through before entering the actual school. In front of me was another series of black doors, these though led to the commons area. To my left was a small group of people cramming to get through the entrance that led into the gym. I sighed and set off in that direction, carefully maneuvering around the babbling people of the crowd.


Entering the gym, I saw large white signs that read Juniors and Seniors dangling from strings transfixed upon the rafters above. I walked to the table on the right half of the gym under the sign Juniors; the crowd behind me went forward to the open doors that led into the second room, which contained the papers for Freshmen and Sophomores. I sulked my way over to join the small queue of three people impatiently waiting for their schedule. After the first two people had been cleared off, the sound of opening doors echoed throughout the gym, perpetuating the hushed silence. Out of vain curiosity I turned my head to see who had entered only to see a radiant demon walking to the queue of Seniors.


Tony.


All traces of my previous restraint were now extinct, utterly nonexistent. An undulating wave of old hatred began to cascade inside of me, making my calm exterior falter. Neither Tony nor I could afford to gave my temper be let loose from its internal cage, especially not for something as trivial as him simply being here. I tried my best to dam the flooding waters inside, but traces of it kept slipping through the cracks. I was about to implode, sending forth the burning, turbulent liquids onto my unassuming victim.


“Would you please stop lolly-gagging and come over here, sir.” A voice beckoned from a feint distance, pulling me out of my subliminal surreality and back into the issuing present. My head slowly turned back to the old, gray haired lady behind the table that had containers of schedules stacked on top of it. Here stern gaze contorted into something unrecognizable, something that made the pestilent monster harbored inside of me growl hungrily. Contemplating the variety of different ways that I could kill her, I began to saunter towards her without a firm plan of what I was doing engraved in my mind.


Then I recognized what was so plainly etched there. Fear. Fear of the boy in front of her that had an implanted look that suggested potential murder was about to supervene.


I closed my eyes tightly and concentrated upon the absolute darkness encompassing my sight. I waited until the brewing hatred ebbed away so completely that it was nothing more than a permanent scar upon the echoing past and then hesitantly opened my eyes. The lady was still standing there, all fear now foregone from her face, with her old stern look mixed with anxiety for her own safety. She obviously thought I was crazy.


“Oh, decided to come back to Earth now haven’t ya?” Now that the monster was no longer overshadowing my initiate human characteristics, I heard she had a poorly disguised Irish accent. Her face wasn’t familiar whatsoever to the small portion of my brain that contained the faces of people I’d passed in the hallway. A new teacher. She’d be ripped to shreds by second period.


“The place is already empty,” she continued on. I looked around to see that this was an undeniable fact; I must have been out of it longer then I thought. The only person that remained was the other teacher at the Senior table whom was flipping through the papers for the few that had failed to turn up. Part of me was infuriated that Tony hadn’t stayed longer; I had been denied a savory snack. “Well, I suppose you’ll be wanting your schedule, eh?” She said recollecting the disseminated pieces of my attention to become focused upon her once again. “Name?”


“Nicholas. Nicholas James,” I recited slowly. She pulled a container labeled J-N from the middle of the stack. Her fumbling hands opened the blue lids to reveal a solitary packet within.


“Here ya go,” she said taking it out and handing it to me.


“Thank you.” My eyes darted toward the silver watch wrapped around her outstretched wrist. The big hand was pointed in between a Roman numeral nine; the small hand directly on the nine. 8:45 A.M. Damn.


“Are-are teachers still counting tardies today, it being the first day of school and everything?” I asked, fearful of her answer. It could contain the very destruction of my perfect attendance record for the year before it had even been given the time to flourish.


A smirk played across her face. “No, sadly not. They’re being rather lenient this week, so nothing of that sort is being accounted for. Why would you care anyways,” she snorted, “coming to school this late?”


I let my sarcastic retort die upon the tip of my tongue as I had been doing for the previous two years of attending this school, two years of perfect attendance and a referral free record that would hopefully be succeeded by a third.


I turned my back to and set off, without a word, back to the doors that served as the gym’s entrance and exit.


“Don’t you forget to put your I.D on!” she called behind me, her voice strangely ruminating in the dissonance of the gym


I shoved upon the metal handle of the door, eager to escape to the back of my first period class. Heeding her unneeded advice, I opened the flap of the plastic covering containing my I.D clipped onto a green lanyard and a single yellow sheet of paper. I glanced at one side of it to see the familiar overview map of the school, and on the other side found what I had been languishing away to behold.





1ST Period Wind Symphony Band


2nd Period AP English III


3rd Period AP Pre-Calculus


4th Period AP Music Theory II


Lunch B


5th Period French III


6th Period AP Physics


7th Period AP European History








Relief replaced anxiety. I had been given all the classes I’d signed up for last year. Fear took a grappling hold of relief. I had been on the brink of losing my rational control; the monster inside had been only mere seconds from taking over.


I’d only lost control because of Tony only once before, during the final weeks of school last semester. I had heard from the gossipers mongering in the hallway that he was determined to beat up my close friend Jared after school for not allowing him to copy off of his Chemistry Final Exam. Petty gossip that ordinarily would have fallen upon my ignorant, deaf ears had the victim been a different target. I didn’t need to ask where this horrific scene would take place. Tony would choose the most crowded part of the school where no teachers were on duty at: The commons area.


I rushed down the stairs from my locker and allowed myself to be carried by the tempestuous crowd toward the already ensuing fight. Blow by blow Tony placed on Jared’s bloody, maimed face. He tried to defend himself but his awkward, thin arms were no competition against the muscular, bulky ones of his pursuer. I stood among the jostling crowd, staring helplessly as my friend writhed in pain on the cold, blood-splattered floor. I knew that there was absolutely nothing I could do to save him from his grievous pain and humiliation, save suffer at his side, which left me at the despairing impasse of being a powerless spectator.


Hate had burned inside of me. Not quite as strong as it had been today, but still, it had been strong enough. I wanted to inflict pain on Tony. Pain ten-times surmount to anything he was putting my friend through. To suffer and to suffer at my hands, only than could I be fully sedated.


My dream became reality.


Tony, who had been about to kick Jared while he lay agonizing on the floor, abruptly fell where he stood. At the time I couldn’t see what he was doing down there, but screams and yells issued from the front of the crowd as people hurried forward to him. I, however, ran to Jared who the crowd had simply stepped over, but through the minute cracks in between people I glimpsed the figure of Tony twitching like made on the floor. I didn’t think much of it at the time, my only concern was for Jared. In the end, Jared and Tony had to go to the hospital for a few days, and no one had been stupid enough to blab on the latter. I suppose they found that his haphazard seizure had been torture enough. Also, even if they did report him anonymously, word would soon get out it had been them who told and they would soon find themselves cornered in an empty hallway by a congregation of Tony’s friends. Two of the many harsh realities of high school: People are completely conceited and that nothing was ever kept a secret for long.


This scene had carried more emotional baggage then I thought it would. I couldn’t help but think my thoughts had been what spawned Tony’s abrupt seizure. Of course I knew that just thoughts alone could not spur such an action, but I felt filthy and contaminated all the same. A feeling that was proportionately magnified a week later when Tony returned to school and brushed past me in the hallway. I was at once consumed with a famished hunger that could only be fed by seeing Tony tortured by me and no other. I had expected to hate him for what he had done to Jared, but the longing to see him go through explicit pain, I hadn’t.


This feeling returned every time he came in close proximity of me, but I found that through determined perseverance that it could be stifled. A little. The brief spell of two months from Tony had undoubtedly weakened my built up endurance.


A short beep came from above me as the intercom turned on, interrupting the overflow of reminiscent thought. I trudged on to my first period class, band, still lost in a reverie.


The stagnate taste of corn flakes materialized in my mouth. The taste of change.

My first chapter( completed version)?
I love it, your writing is beautiful. I can picture myself there perfectly.





I spotted a few minor spelling errors, one, near the end, was the use of "than", it should have been "then".





Good work. Keep going.
Reply:i liked the beginning dream A LOT...it was very interesting and kept me reading. i tried to read more, but my eyesight sux when reading so much at a time. i lost you in the middle cuz of that sorry.





but you can actually write :) im glad cuz not many ppl who post their stories on yahoo can write...it was refreshing to read something that sounded like an actual book. i would read it :) i'm interested now. you should post more or get it published
Reply:oh this was really good! your a great writer! do u think your getting it published? u should. i really like it.
Reply:I sense a lot of thesaurus droppings.
Reply:Very good, you have a great writing style! Good luck! :)