Untitled: The Novel [Archive]

enigmatic_one

08-14-2005, 02:32 PM

Chapter One

"Noooo!!!" I screamed, sitting up suddenly, my eyes opening in a flash of fear. It took me a minute to remember where I was, but I was home. I was safe. I'd always been safe. It was just a dream.

I looked at the book that was still on my lap and realized that I must have fallen asleep while reading again. This was a frequent occurance when I was up late trying to finish a book, which was also a frequent occurance. Ever since I was a small child I've been fixated with books. Long books, short books, funny books, sad books, even the occasional picture book. If it had words, I would read it.

I looked up at the clock hanging on my wall. Quarter to eight. I looked back at the book on my lap, debating whether or not I'd have time to read another chapter. I'd read it dozens of times before, I've read practically all the books I own dozens of times. Yet somehow, the suspense always seems to grab me like it's the first time again.

Especially with this one; "Reg Drake and the Dead Parrot". It's one of my favorite books of all time. It's part of the Reg Drake series, a series of 1930s mystery stories highlighting the adventures of Reg Drake, a detective for the Chicago Police Department. In "Dead Parrot", Reg Drake investigates the murder of a visiting diplomat. The only clue is a dead parrot, but through this clue he is able to find evidence that it was Joey the Jackall, a local mob boss, who masterminded the homocide. Later, Joey ambushes Reg and kills Reg's fiancee, Lucille Appleton. This was the part I had been at when I presumabley fell asleep the previous night.

I opened the book to that page and began reading. I'd gotten as far as the next word when my mother burst into the room.

"Ewan, get out of bed! You're going to be late for school!"

She say the same thing every day, even though she knows I have more than three times as much time as I actually need, and that's including the time it would take me to eat breakfast, which I never do. She has a thing for needlessly wasting time.

"Mom, I'm not going to be late." I said, without looking up. I made a futile attempt to block out my mother and continue reading beyond the second word.

"Yes you are!" she insisted. "It's ten to eight!"
"Actually, it's quarter to eight," I corrected, gesturing to my clock which I had set to the school bell's time to avoid confusion. "But even if it was ten to eight, it takes me three minutes to get dressed, we'll say four in case I have to find clean socks, three to brush my teeth, another three to put in my contacts, thirty seconds to walk out the door, and then fifteen minutes to walk to school, taking my time, I might add. My bell rings at 8:50, if I got out of bed right now that would leave 34 minutes and thirty seconds, sorry, 33 minutes and fourty-five seconds." I corrected myself, looking back at the clock."33 minutes and fourty-five seconds of random, unplanned, unnecissary time."

"You don't know that," she said, as I knew she would. This was exactly the same argument we had every day. I knew each line of it so well, I could say it in my sleep, and sometimes did on days my sub-conscious was determined to sleep in. "You might be delayed! Or forget something and have to come back! Then you'll be glad for all that extra time!"

"Mom," I said sighing. "I've been doing this routine for ten years and in that rather lengthy extention of time, I have yet to be delayed or forget something once!"

And that was the truth. Never once in ten years have I forgotten anything. If there is anything I think I might forget, I'll pack it the night before, but even situations like that are rare. I'm sharp in the morning, able to pull things together in a hurry. And if there is even a hint of delay, I know a half dozen shortcuts that can get me to school in half the time, I just don't use them because there's no call to on a regular basis.

"Still, you never know." she persisted, stubbern as ever. "This could be the day it happens."

I could have pushed the argument further, but I knew exactly where it would end up and I wasn't in the mood right then, so I slipped the bookmark off of my bedside table and fitted it gently into the book where I'd left off. I closed the book with a thump and placed it on the table next to my bed.

My mother turned to leave, wearing a pleased sort of look as if she had just accomplished some monumental feat. I just rolled my eyesand jumped out of bed after she'd closed the door.

I moved as sluggishly as I could, preparing for the long, dismal day at school. With any luck I'd be able to waste ten minutes before I had to actually leave the house, decreasing the amount of unplanned time before the bell rang. Prehaps I'd even be able to slip back into my bedroom and read for a while.....

These aspirations were quickly ground to a halt by my mother who dwelt under not only the delusion that I'd be late if I didn't leave almost an hour before I had to, but also that I somehow enjoyed the long monotonous time I spent at the local torture facility, commonly known as school. When I came out to find clean socks, she made me put them on right in the hall and then ushered me outside as soon as I stood up. I stopped to put my shoes on on the way, but it was only because she was in a leniant mood that I was able to do even that. I was just thankful that I'd placed "Dead Parrot" into my schoolbag before coming out of my room. I always took my current book with me to school in case by some small chance I'd be granted the opportunity to read a bit during class. This was extremely rare, but there was always that odd day we'd have a surprise math or english test and I'd be finished early.

I'm always finished early when we have tests. It's because of this that tests are the only thing in school that I remotely look forward to; they're a garauntee for at least fifteen minutes at the end of class to read.

I also always get a perfect score. And it isn't because I study alot, oh no. As if I'm going to spend my free time preparing for some excerise the school board thinks might increase our knowledge. For me, studying is just like practising walking: completely pointless. Just like school, coincidentally. I naturally pick things up quickly. I have the sort of mind that's perfect for math and science, logical and quick to find patterns. I also remember things instantly, I just need to hear them once and I have them, this goes for new concepts as well. English is almost a joke. I've been constantly reading novels since I was four, I could teach the class. Social Studies is based mainly on english skills, so it's no problem, and Health class is the same thing repeated by a different teacher every year, so by grade 2 I'd had the entire health curiculum memorized. So basically I go to school every day, learn nothing, acheive nothing (that I couldn't have done perfectly well at home), and gain nothing. As I said, completely pointless.

enigmatic_one

08-14-2005, 02:37 PM

Chapter Two

I walked slowly down the road, dawdling as much as possible. I don't usually dawdle, or waste time in any way at all. In fact I put alot of energy into not wasting time. But on a school morning when I'm going to be early, the time is already wasted, so the best thing to do is waste as much of it as possible before I actually hit school property.
There was virtually nothing worse than being early for school when I was in elementary. I say virtualy because, of course, there were worse things, such as cildren starving, rain forests being mutilated, and Michael Jackson being born, but at that time and age, they didn't seem as bad from where I was.

Now that I'm in Jr. High, I realize how trivial it is in the whole scheme of things, but in my life, it remains the worst possible thing that I can be subjected to (aside, of course, from the actual attending of school itself). It's just such.... Just such a waste of time! What's wrong with showing up just before the bell goes? You'd think they's be happy just as long as we weren't late. But no! No, that's not good enough! Everyone constantly promotes and, when possible, forces you to be early! Why? What do they expect you to do while standing in the school yard for twenty to thirty minutes?

The answer is surprisingly simple: They expect you to talk to your friends. To consult your friends. To catch up with your friends. To fratrinise with your friends in every possible way so that when the bell finally does ring, and you go into your class, and sit in the cheap wooden desk that;s to small for any sort of comfort, and listen to an elderly woman ramble on about things of little importance for hours and hours, you'll have nothing left to talk about and therefore be inclined to to listen and prehaps even learn something. And while this is a shrewd strategy, it does have one flaw - what if you don't have any friends? What do you do? Talk to yourself?

That's actually what I do alot of the time. And I don't mind it. It works for me. It's a complete waste of time, but so would be anything else that was possible to do in that atmosphere. Unfortunately it's not that simple. Thans to what we call "society". nothing is. There's always that one question that has kept people from doing what they want for centuries: "What will they think?" This is a question I hate and have ignored as much as I could throughout my life thust far. However, in this instance, it's an important question, because the answer is: "They'll think you're crazy.", and that's something that can't be ignored. It doesn't matter if you are or not, all that matters is what they think. And when they think that, the send you to a litle white room with padded walls.

I've spent years trying to derrive an alternate way to spend time in a schoolyard before bell. Naturally, my first attempt was sitting under a tree and reading. Unfortunately, that didn't work out. It seems kids have this crazy idea that books make excellent substitutes for footballs. This idea seems to hold true for magizines, homework, plastic ducks, and clarinets. By grade four I had determined that there was nothing that had any beneficial consequences whatsoever that was able to be done in the school yard prior to the morning bell. In fact, the only thing that's even possible to do is talk to one's self. So that is what I do.

Actually, in saying that I talked to myself, I am not being completely accurate. I did not talk to myself, I thought to myself. I thought to myself alot. Full conversations at times. Other times I'd imagine someone else's response to somethign and carry out theoretical conversations with them, in my mind. Sometimes I'd just get a really crazy philosophical idea and ponder it for a while. Some might call it daydreaming, but I don't think it is. In fact, I think it's the complete opposite. Dreams are fantastic concoctions of your subconscious that you, generally, have no control over. What I do is thinking. I have complete control over it, and although they may at times be fantastic, I usually have some reason for thinking of them, so I hardly see how it could be called daydreaming. Technically, what it is is thinking to myself, but to me it really just seems as if I'm talking to someone, only its to myself. I don't move my mouth, of course, or make any audible noise, but within my mind, it's talking. Thus: talking to myself.

enigmatic_one

08-14-2005, 02:38 PM

Chapter Three

I continued along the cracked sidewalk that I traversed every morning, attempting procrastination as much as possible along the way, which is a surprisingly difficult activity on your own, in the morning, surrounded by drug adicts behind every abandonned building. In a futile attempt to take my mind away from the horror that awaited me in the schoolyard, I tried to remember the dream I had been having before I woke up. I knew it had been about "Dead Parrot", I often have dreams mirroring the current book I was re-reading, and I enjoyed them thoroughly. They're my solution to the mass murder Hollywood commits every day. It's always been my opinion that when you adapt a movie into a book you should make a literal translation, every line right out of the book, every scene right out of the book, without excepting anything, and with effects today, it's finally possible to do that! Unfortunately, producers of these sorts of movies haven't yet figured out that this is the best way to do an adaption movie, so all I have is my dreams.
In my dreams, the plot is never cut to ribbons. None of the characters even experience personality transplants. And ingeniusly clever and perfectly logical endings are never dummied down or completely over-simplified to appeal to the mindless masses. No, my dreams were perfect portraytions of the books; every detail set in place by my sub-conscious, which knew the books by heart. If I really concentrated, I could sometimes escape back to the memory of these dreams, in part at least. This was sometimes my only way to get away from it all when my world seemed to be determined to crush me.

I fell to my knees, limp with dispair. The thug laughed a deep, sickly laugh and dropped my angel to the ground. I could barely see her blood drenched face through the tears that flowed like wild horses from my squinting eyes. I reached for her, calling her name in a desperate attempt to convince myself that she was okay, but I knew she wasn't. The copper-toed trash mongral had shot her to the temple, a bloody hole ornimented her forehead.

"That's what happens when you cross The Jackall" said Joey, snidley smirking at the torment he had provided me with.

I closed my eyes through sobs and tried to get a handle on myself before I did something rash. It was too late for rational thinking, though. Too late for Lucille. Too late for anything, except revenge.

In a fanatical leap, I threw myself across the ally to where my gun lay innocently. passionately pulled my fingers around the weapon and drew in the trigger with unnecissary force. I could barely see a thing, but I must have hit something on that first shot because Joey cursed loudly and I could hear blood dripping on the grisly pavement. I shot again, but by now the goon had come to his senses and I felt a sudden, sharp..........

"Hey buddy, want a smoke?"

I was driven from my fantasy by this random voice that seemed to be addressing me. It took me a moment to re-orient myself and realize wher I was.

"I said, Hey buddy, want a smoke?" The speaker was a scruffy teenager of about 17. He was leaning on the doorway of the old Quick Way, a long forsaken convenience store that was now one of the favorite stashing places for local druggies.

"No thanks," I said picking up my pace. "I don't smoke."

"Come on," he said, coming down from his stoop. From the swagger in his step I guessed he was drunk as well. "A little high never hurt no one!"

I cringed, not only at his putrid state, but also at his obscene use of a double negative. "No thank-you." I said abdomately.

"Look, buddy....." he stopped suddenly as I turned to face him. I was wearing my "Roger Vandeli stare" that I'd picked up from the fabulous description in "Roger Vandeli Strikes Again (Only More Subtley!)". This was a stare that could make a teacher stop in mid-setence, and definately was enough to make this punk decide I wasn't worth it. "Alright," he sputtered, nervously. "Your loss."

As I started walking again I could hear him, practically running to get back to the safety of his door. I was a dangerous person to cross on the way to school, especially if you were interrupting me from a book I was fantasizing.

I tried to gather my thoughts enough to resume the projection in my head. "Dead Parrot" is easier to imagine than other books because I've read it so many times, but even it takes alot of concentration if I don't have the book in front of me and have to go by memory.

I wasn't able to pull my thoughts together in time, however, for as I turned the corner at that moment, I realized exactly where I was. I was on the curb. The curb. The street that ran paralell with the curb leered at me like a mocking parent. I looked at my watch and accepted with a failing heart that all my attempts to waste time had been for naught, but it was too late now. I still had twenty-seven minutes left, and there was no getting around it. Now that I was on the curb, I couldn't turn back. Not without looking like a complete iddiot, which was what I was vaguely trying to avoid in the first place.

With a sigh of resignation, I heaved my foot into the open air and placed it down on the other side of the curb. The other foot followed suite and I slowly trudged across that dreaded road. Each step burned my feet as if the road was not made of the usual tar, but of flaming rabbit hides. I could not beleive that for some inconceivable reason, I was allowing myself to go where I was going.

I finally reached the opposite curb after what seemed like hours. This happened everyday and not a day went by when I didn't wish it actually had been hours. I took a slow breath and sighed again, chastising myself for what I was doing. A second later I was as ready as I ever would be. I took two steps and crossed over the pavement. I was now on school propetry.

Matt A

08-14-2005, 06:17 PM

Okay, I'm going to be completely honest with you right now: even though that was only the first few chapters, even though I don't have clue what the plot is, even though the main character is nigh-on impossible to like...

...this story is f**king amazing. Your powers of description are simply stunning, giving us a crystal clear insight into the Ewan's mind without drowning us in unnessecary details. At no point did you ever give an out-and-out explanation of his personality, but all his thoughts and actions were so consistent that a more detailed explanation simply wasn't needed. Even though you haven't really given us all that much of the story, I already feel that I know Ewan very well, and that is quite a feat.;):anime::anime::anime:

And speaking of which...Ewan is perhaps one of the most interesting characters I've ever come across. I used to be just as much of an anti-social little sh*te when I was his age - albeit with less confidence - so seeing what feels like the ex-me spread so convincingly across the page like that is quite a powerful draw. I have few fond memories of myself when I was going through my "Ewan" phase, so it should come as no surprise to hear that I don't like him in the slightest, but, for all that, he's still got one hell of a personality on his shoulders. He may be arrogant, he may be obnoxious, he may be inhumanly emotionless...but that only makes him even more entertaining: after all, watching complete and utter bastards go about their work is great fun...;):anime::anime::evil::evil:

So, I think I'll be paying attention to this undoubtedly great work. In particular, it'll be interesting to find out the real reason why he hates school so much - there's definitely more to it than what's been said so far - and how the Dead Parrot will come to tie into whatever the plot will turn out to be. Plus Ewan will be good one to watch on his own...;):anime::anime::anime:

-Matt A-

Youko Recca

08-14-2005, 07:18 PM

I find it hard to follow up on something like what Welshie said, so I'll just state that I basically agree. This is looking like an interesting piece of work. Expecting good things to come.

enigmatic_one

08-15-2005, 12:05 AM

Thank you very much for your kind words! It means a lot to me to know that what I'm doing is something that people are interested in reading, it's really encouraging and I thank you most sincerely.

Matt A: I'm glad you found Ewan's character so striking, you really hit on who this aspect of him is. There is more to him, both in school as you guessed and in life in general, so hopefully as the chapters progress you'll gain a deeper insight to what makes him tick and hopefully find him a more sympathetic character, although the fact that you hate him now actually made me chortle with glee :D

As far as the actual "plot", it's hard to really pin it down since when it really comes down to it it's a story about character, but rest assured there is plot coming. It takes a little while to really wind up, but when things start moving they really start moving.

I'll post the next couple chapters tomorrow, I have a lot written at this point but I want to space them out a bit so you have time to enjoy them and so more people will hopefully check it out without feeling too overwhelmed.

~Enigmatic One

enigmatic_one

08-15-2005, 01:25 PM

Chapter 4

I sighed a third time and opened my eyes. There was the school. There was the schoolyard. No cataclysmic event had seemed to be triggered by my arrival. In fact, it appeared that no one had ever noticed my arrival. Everything was just like every other day of school.
I looked at my watch, twenty-seven minutes till bell time. I looked around to see if there was anything that I might be able to appear to be doing that wouldn't appear strange to the clumps of students who milled around the grounds. I was going to talk to myself, well think, but it would be much easier is I appeared to be doing something.

This is the main problem I have with thinking before the bell. It actually isn't that bad an activity and it would probably actually benefit alot of people to take it up. The problem is, what to do whilst thinking. I had discoved early in life that it wasn't a good idea to be standing alone in the middle of the yard staring vaguely into space. So what's one to do? Well, the best thing to do is to take the stance as if doing something, preferabley something that takes no thought whatsoever, and let the masses beleive that's what you're doing while all the time you're thinking to yourself. However, such events are quite rare in the everyday world, so the second best thing to do is try to stare vaguely at something specific, which is what I was forced to do on this particular day.

While this thought may seem simple enough, it is actually a rather complex and fragile exercise, filled with little complexities and hidden footfalls. It can be quite surprising how few things there are to look at in a schoolyard in the morning. Unfortunately, the most plentiful possibility is automatically knocked off the list, I've found in my research that staring at people will usually result in either a hostile confrontation with that person, or start a rumour that will spread throughout the school minutes suggesting a romantic entanglement between you and said person, another undesirable outcome as too often it will also end in a hostile confrontation. Aside from people, there is little/nothing to stare at, which further complicates things. There are several small shrubs in the area, but they are hideously unattractive to look at, so there is no plausible excuse to be staring at them. The yard abounds with various garbage remains, but, again, there is no plausible excuse, and, surprisingly enough, choosing to stare at litter can also lead to hostile confrontations. The only other thing in sight was the school building itself, but no matter how hard I tried, I could not willingly make myself stare at the school for any period of time.

So as you can see, this thinking thing was quite the dilema, and for a long time I could find no way around it. I was in grade seven when I finally did find a solution. I'll never forget that day. It was raining. They had let us inside the school to wait in the porch area where it was less wet. I was staring out the glass window on the door, watching the rain. Rain's always facinated me, all the intrecate drops.... Anyway, I was staring out the door towards the road, when a large truck drove by and hit a puddle, splashing water across the sidewalk and onto the grass. I smiled to myself for some reason, and then it hit me. There was one thing I could look at, or more specifically, look for. Something that would always be coming, yet it would never be coming for me so I wouldn't have to worry about actually finding it. I didn't even have to know what it was. It was just something that I was waiting for. That a car would deliver. And it was of absolute importance that I got this thing, so I constantly had to stare at the road. It was perfect. All I had to do was turn my head with the traffic, keep reletively aware of my surroundings in case something happened, and I was all set. I could think as much as I wanted and always have something to stare at. It's sort of an ironic system, actually. It worked, though. It was what I was doing at that very moment.

I had taken my usual place, just to the left of the crumbling walkway. Sometimes I'll stand somewhere else for variety, but I usually stay there, I like the sense of stability. It's here that I think some of my best thoughts. Well, that actually isn't true. My best thoughts come to me at three in the morning when I lie in my bed, drowning in insomnia. These are some of my best waking thoughts, though. I'll think of my future here, far and near. Sometimes I'll think about new theories on how different science fiction ideas like alternate universes or time travel might work. Every now and then I'll have a sudden poetic flair and write a whole poem right there.

There's one thing I think about more than the others though; what people think of me. Not in the usual way teenagers think about it, I'd never change myself because I thought people would like me better. I'm just curious. I wonder what their reaction was to certain things I've done, how they stereotype me, stuff like that.

Basically, I can divide the student population of my school into three groups: the people who hate me, the people who think I'm somewhat weird, and the people who think I'm a homosexual. I can sort of see where the "weird" people are coming from, as I myself think I'm a bit weird, I just don't see it as a bad thing. The "hate" people I'm not as sympathetic to, but come to think of it, if I was someone else and really immature, I might hate me too, so I guess I can't really say anything. The only people who really bug me are the "homosexual" people, as there is absolutely no evidence (or reality) to back their opinion and most of them are druggies anyway.

It doesn't really matter which of the three opinions you hold, though, as all three groups handle me the same way: they ignore me as much as possible. And I'm cool with that, I guess. It's better than in some years of elementary when the "hate" group would take out any frusterations they had by chasing me around the playground and threatening me. None of these people were really the sort of people who I'd be friends with anyway. So the ignoring thing worked, I suppose. It was the best thing for all of us under the circumstances.

I continued thinking random thoughts for the next twenty-seven minutes. It was pretty usual stuff, although I did write a poem I became rather fond of. It went like this;

Of all the kings and knights and squires,

Only one could fill desires,

His name was Ralford, brave and true

And what a royal ball he threw!

It wasn't very good, I knew. I found it somewhat amusing though, in the sort of way that parents must find their children for the first twenty years of their life or so. I'm not exactly sure what spawned the rather odd theme. I beleive it was because for some reason or another I was pondering the fact that there were so many words that rhymed with squire, and yet it was such a neglected word. I suppose the whole poem was just an excuse to use it, really.

I was driven from my dribblous thoughts by the shreik of a harpy. The foul soundwaves darted around inside my lobe as the sound I depise above all others made itself known to my brain.

The bell had rung.

Matt A

08-15-2005, 03:08 PM

And now, at long last, Ewan gets round to doing humour. It's always amusing to see school social analysis done from an inmate's perspective, if you see what I mean, and in this case you certainly delievered the witty and remarkably spot-on asides. Very funny to read, in a somewhat strange kinda way: but hey, I like strange, so all's good.;):anime::anime::anime:

-Matt A-

enigmatic_one

08-15-2005, 04:14 PM

Chapter 5

Turning slowly, I made my way up the few stairs that stood in front of the door. The stream of mindless simpletons closed in around me as they pushed, as if one, through the double doors that marked the entrance into the interior. They're like a portal into an alternate time stream where a car polisher's killed your father and then married your mother, and your old scientist friend has gone insane.
I was thrust inside by the crowd, they were going in so so was I, whether I wanted to or not. I didn't, of course, but probably would have went in withour their coaxing. Once inside, the hall widened so I was able to free myself into a less dense area. Once I regained control of my movements, I slowed down conciderabley. Not to the point that I was going slow, I did need time to rummage in my locker, just slower than the intense pace everyone else was herding me through at. I was definately not eager to get there.

As I walked, I ran my hand across my forehead, pushing my hair to the side. It wasn't because my hair was particularly in my eyes, it's something of a habit for me, like looking at my watch even when I know the time.

Halfway down the hall I passed the School Management Center. That's what they make us call it, anyway. Basically it's just the principals office with a little area in front for the secretary, the administration likes to give long names to unimportant things though

Ms. Turmoil was sitting at her desk, fiddling with a paperclip or something. She's our school secretary. I don't know exactly how good she is at secretarying, but she doesn't stumble too much when reading the announcements. I suppose that's all you can ask.

There's an Urban Legend surrounding her name. According to local myth, when she originally started working here some thirty years ago, her name wasn't Ms. Turmoil and that Turmoil is just a nickname. Supposedly she fought it at first but eventually it got to the point that she just gave in and embraced it. While I've never actually asked her if this was true, I suspect that the story is simpley that, a story. I further suspect that she was the one who originated the myth and spread it around to excuse the fact that her name actually was Turmoil. While I have no proof, I'm usually pretty accurate with these things. I'll probably never know for sure though.

I reached locker 827 and dropped to the floor. Our school is quite cheap in that we only have half lockers and as it would happen, mine is on the bottom. I twisted my combination on the dial and pulled the lock off, depositing it in my pocket. Looking at my schedule, I saw that I had French, Health, and English this morning, so after withdrawing the appropriate books, I flicked my lock out of my pocket and with a final spin of the dial I was off for homeroom.

My homeroom teacher's name is... Well actually, I'm not sure what her name is. She didn't introduce herself on the first day of school like other teachers and no one else has volunteered the information since. It's like she and the entire staff assume everyone already knew her name. Maybe they all do, for that matter. Maybe I'm the only one who doesn't know. It's not that important, either way. I just call her "Miss", as do everyone else in the class. She teaches me health, which is hardly a subject that requires a name for the teacher. It doesn't really require a teacher at all, come to think of it. I'm sure we'd all be fine without her. Well I would anyway.

She teaches english. Although I'm good in every class, english is without a doubt my specalty. It comes from all the reading. I could teach the class, and frequently do with Miss as the teacher.

Entering the classroom, I sat down silently and glanced up at the wall clock next to me. Comparing it to my own watch I noted that no one had bothered to correct the ten minute descrepancy yet again. It was quite insulting actually, here I changed my own personal watch to match the irratic inner timing of the school office, and here's a teacher who doesn't even bother to ajust her classroom clock.

At that moment the bell rang for first class. They used to play "Oh Canada" in the morning. That was quickly silenced when an American family moved nearby and one of the children started attending my school. The girl's parents complained to the school stating that they found the playing of our anthem in the morning to be a direct attack on their citizenship. They must have had some sort of influence in the community because now there's no more "Oh Canada". A similar thing happened to all our Christmas related events when a Bouddist joined the school.

The moment I got out of my seat I found myself being swept away by the crowd yet again. Down the hall and up two flights of stairs (actually, it was up one flight and then down another flight) I was herded until we reached Mme. Enriquoisette's classroom. I sat down and waited for her to address us in her usual fashion.

"Bonjour," she said, standing from her desk. "Bienvenida to mi classe de french."

Matt A

08-15-2005, 04:51 PM

Not much happened, sure, but it was still entertaining. As Ewan's cold-as-ice critique of all things school-realted is very rapidly starting to become...ergo, the harsher he gets, the more fun it will undoubtedly be.;):anime::anime::evil::evil:

Oh, and is it just me, or is "Ms. Turmoil" the coolest name in the universe?;)

-Matt A-

enigmatic_one

08-15-2005, 07:42 PM

I'm glad it's continuing to be entertaining. :anime: If you liked the bits of humour, I think you'll like the next couple of chapters as well as some of Ewan's teachers are introduced. There's also some hints of plot and one major subplot coming up very shortly, but I think I'll save that for tomorrow. One more chapter today, I think, but more to come!

~Enigmatic One

enigmatic_one

08-15-2005, 07:45 PM

Chapter 6

She said this very fluently, but this is only because she'd had lots of practise. Everyday she started her class the same way; "Bonjour, bienvenida to mi classe de french." This is, of course, complete nonsense. Unfortunately, that was all that Madame Enriquoisette ever spoke. You see, dispite being the french teacher, she didn't speak french. There were other times when it seemed that she couldn't speak english either. What she usually communicated with was a language which I privately dubbed "Spengench". It was a mix of three common dialects; spanish, english, and french. She also carried a dictionary on her person at all times for when she wanted to say a word she didn't know, which always puzzled me as she usually said it in english anyway, even after a grueling search in the dictionary.
"Abra your cahiers to page vingt-four". This was the second thing she said everyday. Loosely translated, it means "Open your books to page twenty-four."

We all flipped through our books to page fourty-seven as she walked across the front of the class and sat down in her desk. We knew that she meant to turn to the page we were on the day before; she always says vingt-four. I guess it's the only number she knows, which is rather sad actually as it isn't really a number at all.

"Qui can tell moi que lechuga es?" I should also add that she said everything in a very thick Brooklyn accent, so in class it was doubley hard to understand her, because nothing even sounded like it would if she was merely mixing the tongues. For instance, if I spelt the above sentence the way it sounds when she says it, it would look like this; "Key kian ti-ell moy ker lurchooger eies?" Obviously you can see how this complicates things on a regular basis (In case you were wondering, the question in english was "Who can tell me what lettuce is?").

I raised my hand to answer her. This was another daily ritual.

"Youi?" she said, pointing to me.

I began. "La laitue est un...."

"In french!" she snapped briskily.

I took a deep breath to contain my frustration and began again. "La laitue est une plante composée du lactuca de genre, les partirs dont est utilisé comme la salade."

"Say that again, Frank, you're going way to fast. I mean rapidament."

At this point I was so livid that I didn't even bother to point out that my name wasn't Frank. "La....laitue, that's lettuce, est....une.....plante, plant, compo..."

"Yes, yes, that's fine." she said, obviously loosing interest. She had an attention span that was shorter than the list of things I like on a pizza. Coincidentally, I only like pepperoni and cheese on pizzas, with no sauce. "Now vuelta to pagina fin et couleur it verde." She then retreated to her desk and propped up a large atlas on it's side so that it looked like she was studying it. I knew she had a game boy hidden behind it, though, and was lost in the world on Pacman 6. I tried to ignore my disgust and sat watching the clock, hoping class would end before I started vomiting.

When it finally did end, I was the first one out the door and was again immediently carried away by the crowd. At this time, I was sorely tempted to fall down on my face and allow myself to be trampled, it was time for english.

Soon enough, far sooner than I would have liked, I was deposited by the masses in my english class. Sluggishly, I pulled myslef across the room to my place and sat down, not daring to look up for fear that my brain would stab itself to death if I was forced to verify that I was indeed in this classroom.

I'm not sure if I mentioned this before, but english is my forte. As brilliant as I am in everything else, my english skills left them all behind. That what happens when you spend every bit of spare time you get reading. Although english class had never been much of a challenge (to understate thing immensily), this year was the worst. It was chiefly because of this class that I questioned whether or not humans would make it through the year 2000 every night. This year, in this class, I had... Mr. Young.

"Good morning boys and girls!" he said excrutiatingly merrily. "Who knows what we were doing yesterday?" I could feel my brain start hacking away at itself.

"Parts of a sentence." was murmered back to him by the majority of the class.

"That's right!" he beamed. "Parts of a sentence! Now, does anyone know what a noun is?" A handful of hands slowly raised, uncertainly. By now, my brain had decided that the stabbing was taking too long and was using a chainsaw.

"That's okay if most of you don't know. Let's review together!" He pulled the covering off of a large magnet board he kept at the front of the class, revealing the word "Nouns" in bright purple letters, accompanied by pictures of a doctor, Arizona, and a rather pink cow.

"A noun is a person," he paused for a moment. "a place," another pause. "or a thing! Just like that cow! Hee hee. Moo, MOO!" That was the final straw, my brain cut a hole in the back of my skull and made a run for that nearest flight to Southern Africa.

The rest of the class went on very similarly and I think it would be in the best interests of both yours, and my mental health if I skipped to the end of the class.

By the time rang, not only had my brain abandonned me but also my right ear and several of the minor organs. Luckily this was all figuratively so I was physically able to jump out of my seat and all but run to the door. Once outside the classroom I headed right into the densest part of the fast movign traffic, fully prepared this time to thrust myself under their merciless feet.

I was just about to fling myself to the ground when I caught something vaguely out of the corner of my eye. Something in the distance was headed quickly in my direction. Someone was headed quickly in my direction.

enigmatic_one

08-16-2005, 02:44 PM

Chapter 7

I couldn't clearly see her yet, but I knew it was her. A soft glow radiated from her body as she glided towards me, no more in control of where she was going than I was. I could see her face now, my heart jumped into my throat as it gazed upon her utterly captivating eyes. I couldn't even breathe as she came closer. Her profile was now in complete view. Even though I saw her everyday, I never got over how beautiful she was. Her hair dark and silky, flowing past her shoulders in a way that was just breathetaking and completely unique to her. Her eyebrows had a similar effect on me and excentuated the utter magic that was her eyes.
The aprehension in my mind grew to the point that it was unbareable as time seemed to freeze amid the frantic efforts of the entire school trying to get to their next class. This was the one thing that I looked forward to all day, this one meeting. It was the only reason I kept going to school, actually. She floated closer still, moving in slow motion. I literally could not escape her eyes. They pulled me in and spit me out, making me feel completely insignificient, yet completely wonderful at the same time.

Then I hit contact and our eyes were one. Her lips turned to a smile and began to open, saying the words I waited for day and night.

"Hey Ewan!"

My heart melted into naught but a puddle, and then changed form again until it had disappated into the air and was carried aloft by the breeze. Those words had just made all the ridiculas torture I had been put through that day, as well as the torture I'd face for the rest of the day, worth it.

"Hi Sam," I managed to blurt out before the masses pushed us on, away from each other. The whole inccident lasted about five seconds, but that was all I needed. Even a glance of Samantha Williams was enough to send my head to the clouds, and right then, I was on the moon. My shell of a body drifted onwards to my next class, but my mind was dancing in the stars, painting rainbows upon anything that would stay still.

I remained in space throughout all of my next class. It was Health, so my subconscious was able to answer the questions without me having to be aware I was even being asked anything. I think we may have been doing something related to fire safety (a theme we'd already covered twice, this year alone), but I'm not completely sure, I was too busy triapsing across Neptune.

It wasn't until math, two classes later, that I reluctantly made myself to come back to reality and tried to force Sam out of my mind. Not that I ever stopped thinking about her, really. She was always lurking in some corner of my thoughts. I couldn't be overwhelmed by it then though, math was a class you had to keep your head for.

Please don't get the impression that the work was hard, we were actually learning to add and subtract fractions for the fifth time. No, it was the teacher that demanded the attention; Mr. Illuvitar. He was the sort of person that would have made a great understudy in case Hitler was sick one day. It was more than the usual characteristics of a bad teacher, this guy was cruel. He enjoyed giving kids a hard time and punished them whenever he could. He even physically hurt students when he could make it look like an accident. You had to be extremely sharp and stay on your toes if you wanted to survive his class without a trip to the office and/or a trip to the hospital. He also was famous for his eccentric habits and his even more eccentric punishments for people who didn't aquiece to his eccentric habits. Everything had to be perfect for him and if it wasn't, the only thing you could do was get across the border as fast as you could. To top it all off, the guy didn't know an exponential expression from a bag of slightly chilled ham! He had never actually been taught as a math teacher and so what little math he actually knew he had picked up from the television shows he watched, which meant that his mathematical prowess was limited to that of the characters in Japanese cartoons. He is without a doubt the worst teacher I have ever heard of.

"Order! Order people!" This order was completely unnecessary as nobody dared even flinch lest they incure his wrath, but it was one of the things he liked to say and frequently did throughout his classes. "I will now have order!"

His voice echoed slightly in the eerie silence that had convered the room since before his outburst.

"That's better!" he said, non-perturbed. "Did you all do your homework last night?" The class nodded in fearful symmetry. "Well I don't beleive you!" Bits of rotting chicken flew from his mouth as he yelled this to us suspiciously. "So you'll all do those problems again right now while I watch you, to be sure!"

I sighed mentally, not daring to voice my disgust vocally. The last kid who did so ended up with a six week suspension. By the time he was allowed back in school, his cast had come off.

Turning from the page where I had completed all of the problems the previous night, I picked up my pencil and started again. As I worked I noticed to my increasing frustration that Mr. Illuvitar was going around the class to everyone's desk, making sure they were working. Apparently he hadn't realized how illogical this whole exercise was, if he was going to check every individual desk anyway, why wouldn't he just check to see if everyone had done the work last night, as opposed to making us do it again while he watched? There are times when I think that logic is something that we left behind as soon as disco hit the streets. No one at all seems to.... No, I can't start condemning the world for Mr. Illuvitar's idiocy. Although, come to think of it, only about five of the people I know actually know what logic is. Maybe it has been forsaken by all but the wisest....

My thoughts were disturbed by the looming pressence of the moronic one himself looming over me. I struggled to ignore him as I worked on, but this became increasingly difficult as his nose was about two centimeters from my forehead. Not only was he blocking my light, but he was also breathing quite loudly which was somewhat distracting as you can imagine. I would write something more concerning how his breathe reacted with a couple of my other senses, but it has been my experience that vomiting is a rather unpleasant thing and I doubt you'd appreciate me causing you to experience it at this time. Sufficed to say, I held my breath until at last he left.

Thirty-five minutes later, Mr. Illuvitar seemed satisfied that the class had in fact completed the homework assignment (twice) and returned to the front of the class.

"Very good," he said nodding in a rare act of praise. "You may all go now, rows two, four, and five report to me after school for detention. Dismissed."

I solomnly got up and walked to the door, thanking God with every inch of my soul that I was in row three. Random detentions were not uncommon in math class.

It wasn't until I was in the safety of the hallway that I suddenly realized what time it was; two fourty-five, The madness was over! I was free!

Matt A

08-16-2005, 03:12 PM

Needless to say, I'm liking this story all the more. The day-to-day life of Ewan's school has now pretty much become a midnight-black comedy, painting a picture of a place that is instantly recognisable but so much worse than anything your average student has ever experienced (as a small aside, my own maths teacher was actually a top bloke, mostly 'cause of the persistent rumours that he was an ex-SAS operative, and his gold tooth was a melted-down bullet...). The three teachers you introduced may be caricatures, but because you can guarantee that teachers like them do exist somewhere, they also seem utterly believeable. Hence why they're so funny.;):anime::anime::evil::evil:

Oh yes, and let's not forget the small interlude at the start of chapter seven. Somehow, I hadn't quite expected someone as pathologically misanthropic as Ewan to do "love" - though, considering my past experiences, I really should have thought about that one - so having such a sudden introduction of the object of his affections really did take me by surprise. And reduce me to a fit of giggles, though I'm not sure why: as cruel as it may seem, the idea of Ewan being in love is a funny one. But...knowing pathological misanthropes as well as I do - quite intimately, in fact - I can guess that his relationship with Sam will go horrfically wrong before this story is over. Sounds cool, I must admit...;):evil::evil::evil:

Anyway, this is brilliant work, and I expect to see more of the same forthwith.;):anime::anime::anime:

-Matt A-

enigmatic_one

08-16-2005, 03:32 PM

But...knowing pathological misanthropes as well as I do - quite intimately, in fact - I can guess that his relationship with Sam will go horrfically wrong before this story is over. Sounds cool, I must admit...;):evil::evil::evil:

Man, you really have it in fow Ewan don't you! Can't even give him the benefit of the doubt once or allow him any strand of emotion or hope for the future! I would be horribley offended, for Ewan's sake, if I didn't have the same malicious course plotted out for him! ;) :p :anime:

Thanks for your continued interest, I've very much enjoyed reading your comments which are very different from what I've been getting from otehrs whom I've shared the story with, but really capture a lot of what I'm trying to communicate which makes them just blissful to read. And just for that lengthy response, another chapter!

~Enigmatic One

enigmatic_one

08-16-2005, 03:37 PM

Chapter 8

I thrust the doors open, savouring the sweet air that was withheld from us inside the musty building. Ironically, the one time I would have welcomed a crowd pushing me at break-neck speeds through the school to my destination, I was forced to get there by my own means as the halls had been uncharacteristicly devoid of human life.
Walking down the few stairs, I couldn't help but feel at peace, breathing in the cool air, listening to the Mozart I was mentally playing in my head. It was over. It was over for another day. For the next eighteen hours, 3 minutes, and 22 seconds, I was free. Free to do whatever I wanted as efficiently as I wanted and without being subjected to mind numbing low number that was the sum of all my teachers' IQs.

Jumping up on the curb, I decided not to hurry home as fast as I usually did, that day. It was a brisk, slightly chilly autumn day, but that was perfect weather as far as I was concerned. For me, coldness has always been infinitely preferable to heat, and besides, the turning leaves made for a scenery of contrasting colours and extravagent beauty.

I looked up at the trees in bliss. They made me think of Sam. I don't know why but they have always entranced me, almost as much as she did. Prehaps that's why I had formed a mental connection between the two things. Well, the thing and the person, if you can call her a person. She's more of an angel, really.

It's funny that I think of her so, it's never really made much sense to me. Ever since I met her, though, she's just sort of stuck in my head. I've never understood it, and I don't imagine I ever will, but thinking of her..... It gives me hope. Somehow, it comforts me to know that someone so remarkabley perfect exsists.

I'll never forget how we met. It was one of those chance things that millionaires are always betting on in Vegas.

The local library had announced a short story competition through the school, hoping to raise literary appreciation (as well as financial support, the library has always been hopelessly corrupt). All entries were to be submitted by e-mail, the winner would receive fifty dollars as well as having their story posted on the library's official website. I, finding myself unusually low on funds, decided it wouldn't hurt to take a stab at it and a short time later found myself reading a reply stating that I had won the contest. Naturally I was quite pleased. I was awarded the cheque shortly after and thought nothing more of the inccident, yet it was far from over.

A short time later I was seated in front of my empty computer screen reading the last few chapters of "Lucy and the Maliciously Boring Dog" (a repulsive book that I recomend you do not read under any circumstances), when a chat invitation blinked into existance on my screen. Normally I don't engage in chats with strangers, but the name on e-mail address was familiar. I recognized it as being a girl from my school, a grade older than me.

Hesitantly, I accepted the invitation and waited for a response. I had never talked to anyone from school outside of school before, nobody had ever wanted to.

I didn't have to wait long before a box flashed onto my screen with the words:

SamWilliams says:

Hey Ewan!!

I was a little startled. Thus far, I had really only used instant messaging to communicate with my deaf grandmother who lived in Russia. Slowly I stared at the keyboard, trying to find what keys to press before I even knew what I planned to say. I glanced back at the small box, searching for inspiration, and then, hesitantly, it struck me as to what I should say.

EwanJackson says:

Hey

I breathed a sigh of relief and smiled, I was back in control. I became flustered again, however, when a second message popped up almost immediently.

SamWilliams says:

What's up?

This was too much for me to deal with. A simple greeting I could bluff my way through but this was getting ridiculas. I brushed the hair to the side with my hand and typed hurriedly, trying to deviate the conversation towards something more tangable.

EwanJackson says:

Why are you messaging me?

An answer came instantaneously, come to think of it, that's probably why the call it instant messaging.

SamWilliams says:

Well, I've seen you around school and stuff before, but we've never really talked. I just read your story on the library website (that's how I got your e-mail address). It's really great!

Now I was really stumped. Not only was someone from school wanting to talk to me but they also read my story and, what's more, liked it? This was a concept completely unthought of and received extensive pondering. In fact, it was a whole three minutes later before I realized I still hadn't sent a reply. Quickly, I typed something so enlightened and profound that all parties would agree it was worthy of the three minutes which would be assumed were spent dwelling on its conception.

EwanJackson says:

Thanks.

Our first conversation went on much like this, her in her utter perfection, me in my akward stumbling. This was completely unexplored, unconceived even, territory I was dealing with, and it came to me about as easily as a lobster is able to sing the blues. She remained brilliant though, and eventually we were talking about all manner of subjects, stretching the imagination more than one time in fantastic speculation. By the time we were finished, that first day, I may have still been stumbling, but it was comfortable stumbling. For the first time ever, I had had a real conversation with a peer...and maybe a friend.

Matt A

08-16-2005, 03:46 PM

enigmatic_one

08-16-2005, 04:02 PM

As genius as ever, I think. Seeing Ewan get soo hopelessly tongue-tied has got to be the highlight of my evening...;):anime::anime::evil::evil:

And, in answer to your earlier question...yes, I want to see Ewan suffer. It's probably just me being strange (again), but I have this unfortunate tendency to hate anyone who reminds me too much of...well, me.;):sad:

Oh, and about the other thing on your last post: people thought this story was crap?! :confused::confused::confused:;)

-Matt A-
No, no, no, no, no, people didn't think that the story was crap, they just related to it in different ways than you have been, which is all great. As for you're wanting to see him suffer, just to clarify in case my post was confusing, I think it's delightful that you want him to suffer! I love it! It's what I always intended for him! Ironically because I also have that tendancy to hate people who remind me of me (Ewan is loosely based on a young me). So yeah, hate away. Those who come here hoping for bad things to happen for Ewan will not be disappointed, I assure you. That's not to say that I don't hope that at some point Ewan can be seen as a sympathetic character, but that's the whole essence of character isn't it? To have multiple levels and many shades of grey? Anyway, glad you like it as always. I have to get to work on chapter 19 now so I shall not tary. Here's one more for today.

~Enigmatic One

enigmatic_one

08-16-2005, 04:04 PM

Chapter 9

I kicked an oddly shaped stone as the chilled November wind brushed the sleves of my t-shirt. Cold was one thing that never bothered me. It had been on ongoing mission of mine since I was about six or seven. Since the human body is so prone to adaption, I theorized that by rutinely exposing myself to increasingly cold temperatures I could train myself to overcome the sensation of cold and eventually block it out completely. Over time, the experiment proved itself to be highly successful, and since then I have begun similar experiments involving pain and hunger.
Having been issued an unusually small burden of homework, I questioned how I would fill the remainder of my day. reading of course would be manditory, but I knew I would finish "Dead Parrot" in a matter of hours, a matter here representing the number two. Possibley one. I wondered whether I should try instant messaging Sam later. She was pretty hard to get a hold of most of the time. If one was to look at her status at any one time they would almost certainly find her to be online, but also set to "away". This was rather common amongst teens in my area, from what I was able to discern. The reasoning is that by constantly being "away", one always has an excuse not to talk to someone who is considered an undesirable. Essentially it provided instant messagers with the sort of screening capabilities that the speaker answering machine made possible for telephones.

Sam was one such person who utilized this technique, although she seemed to be away much more than she was "away". I had no way of knowing which she was, however, which led to me starting a conversation often when she actually wasn't there, leading to slight awkwardness on my part and what I could only imagine to be incredibley annoying messages of "Hey!", "Hi there", or "What's new" (I could never lower myself to saying "What's up?") flashing on her screen whenever she got back, at which point I was rarely still online. The continued happening of this occurance eventually led to reduced attempts on my part, and now I rarely tried unless I had some external reason to beleive that she was in fact there.

When she is there though.... Simply put, it is wonderful. Our discussions range across everything from school (although I tend to avoid that topic) to books we're reading. Often we forgoe the normal uniform of conventional conversation and trip the light fantastic with theoretical nonsenses which snowball into whimsical adventures or mock agruments. I can really just be myself with her because as odd as I am, she borders on the zany herself and anything I say comes off as natural to her. There really is no other word than wonderful.

I paused with a start as I suddenly realized I was only a few steps away from my front door. Reaching for my key, I stepped onto the stoop and with one swift, sweeping motion unlocked and opened the door before stepping in. Once inside I headed straight for my room. It was the only room I really inhabited. Everything I needed to contain myself and captivate my attention was inside that room, and so I rarely, if ever, came out other than to eat. Even eating, I would be perfectly happy to do in my room. Unfortunately my mother has an unsurpressable with tradition and more specifically, eating together as a family.

This is something that dispite numerous attempts I cannot even begin to understand. Eating in an activity which demands the exclusive attention of one's mouth. Talking is also an activity that demands the exclusive attention of one's mouth. Therefore, if one is eating, it is impossible for one to be talking! is this not logical? Therefore, what on earth is gained by eating in the pressence of others? I mean, if you want to have a conversation fine, but don't do it while you're trying to eat too! Just eat quickly to get it over with and then talk later! Why these two things are so closely associated is beyond me. In anything, I would think it should be socially required that one eats in solitude! Think about it, you're taking pieces of things (often once alive things) and placing them in your mouth for them to be decomposed due to liquids coming of out your salivory glands and then subjected to a multitude of do-it-yourself chemestry experiments that your body preforms. Why would anyone want to be a witness to that happening? When you think about it, that just gross really. What kind of sick bastard wants to sit around and watch people do this? Society shall ever cease to confound me.

Throwing myself on my bed, I opened my book to the last place I was at and quickly escaped into the 1940's setting of a noir film-esque Chicago. For the sake of copyright fees and in an attempt to keep this book somewhat on track without deviating from the plot any more than what seems inevitable, I shall not be including any more passages from "Reg Drake and the Dead Parrot" in this novel, however as I'm sure you've picked up by now it is a most ingenious narative and I would strongly suggest looking into reading it in its entirety at your leisure.

Lying on my bed, I breathed a slow sigh on contentment and closed my eyes. I paused a moment, soaking up the feeling of completion one feels after finishing a great mystery. Every time. This isn't one of the many things in life that you become immune to after it becomes familliar. Or maybe it is, and it's just the freshness of the writing that keeps it from becoming familliar. This is actually the first time I've thought of it that way. It makes sense though, it's hardest for things to lose their... oh what's the word.... like, freshness... I keep thinking initiative, but that's not it... Nevermind, I imagine it'll come to me later and I'll insert it then. Now I've lost my train of thought. Oh well, I don't imagine it was going anywhere you'd find particularly interesting anyway. I'l get back to the story now. Sufficed to say, it's a really great feeling.

I turned on the radio and blindly turned the knob, hoping to find some good jazz. It's hard to find that these days. I mean, it's hard to find any sort of jazz really but really good jazz, that's a true rarity. With my eyes still closed, couldn't help smile when by accident I stumbled across what I knew could only be Art Tatum. Brilliant jazz musician. I reached above my head for the trumpet that was lying on its side and started playing some slow rifts to accompany the piano. An urgent banging from the side wall told me I wouldn't be allowed the luxury of music today. Resignedly I put the trumpet back and lay down again, straining to hear the dead on bass solo that I had turned down almost to nothing. I had taught myself to play the trumpet. It was an instrument that had always fascinated me. Louis Armstrong, Chet Baker, Loius Prima for that matter. Then later, hearing it used James Brown songs, playing shots for Aretha Franklin... There was just something about the brassy sound that drew me in captivated. For a while it was like an addiction, I wanted to be able to reproduce that sound myself. As it happened, my great-uncle had played the trumpet and when he died (MHRiP) left it to the family. As it happened my family neither indulges nor has any perceivable interest whatsoever in music, and so when I expressed a desire to play, I was granted custody over the horn.

Another loud banging informed me that even the radio was to be outlawed on that day so I clicked it off a bit too roughly and walked across my room to check the computer. As predicted, Sam was online, but also set to away. My heart leapt for a moment. Did I dare chance it and try to engage her? It had been a few days since we had last talked online and so I reasoned that even if she wasn't there, she wouldn't mind the greeting when she got back. I just didn't want to cross the line into obsessive and annoying. Hessetantly, I clicked on her name and typed.

EwanJackson says:

Hey Sam

The machine made a beeping noise to confirm the message had been sent. I waited, but when six minutes had passed without a response, I resigned myself to the fact that she wasn't there and shut the computer down. I thought back to school and made a mental list of all the homework I had. Best to get it over with. I thought, dreading the time that was about to unfold.

Two fifths plus five halves. Three thirds plus one sixth. One take away one eighth. Page after page of this pointless mediocrate. I remember hearing something once; If you can do it five times, you can do it a hundred times. If only someone had told that to Mr. Illuvitar. By the time I had finished math (three sheets of the above), health (making a list of all the fire hazzards you ate for lunch that day), and french (draw a picture of something that rhymes with the word "France") it was nearing eleven thirty. If I fell asleep right then, I would have been able to get eight hours of sleep before my usual, uncalled for wake up call. I knew I wouldn't fall asleep right then, but I had to try regardless.

It took me fifty-two seconds to get myself ready and in bed. I closed my eyes and tried to think of nothing. Visions of the day started to pass through my head. Why did I try instant messaging Sam? I thought. It was stupid, I should have waited. Crap, did I forget to do that english thing? Meh, I can do it tomorrow at lunch. I have to sleep now! I peeked at the clock, it was twenty after twelve now. I started saying the word "nothing" over and over again in my mind, trying to concentrate only on that in hopes that it would put me to sleep. As I was saying it, I realized how hard it was to only think of the word and nothing else. Then I realized that by realizing that it was hard to think of nothing else, and consequently realizing that I was realizing it was hard to think of nothing else meant that I was thinking about something else and thus, failing the exercise. I looked up at the clock again; quarter to one. I tried to picture a black void, then I saw the void slowly coming towards me. Then there were stars, I was travelling through space. Then it gained speed, I was flying! I was navigating the stars! I was boldly going where no man had gone before! I was... Still not asleep. Two fifteen.

Matt A

08-16-2005, 07:28 PM

Random, but very funny. I can easily understand Ewan's things about eating in solitude and not wanting to be annoying - 'cause I'm kinda obsessed about both of those myself - so, for once, I can sympathise a little. Only a little, though, and don't expect much more of it any time soon.:p:p:p

By the way, I loved the last line. One of the best punchlines I've seen all week.:anime::anime::anime:

-Matt A-

enigmatic_one

08-16-2005, 08:06 PM

Chapter 10

"Ewan, get out of bed! You're going to be late for school!"
The shrill voice drilled through my ear drums like a miser looking for oil. Without responding I groaned and rolled over, bringing the pillow around my ears in an attempt to block out the sound.

The door opened and the most foul shriek began again. "Ewan, get out of bed! You're going to be late for..."

"I am not going to be late for school." I said sitting up abruptly.

"Yes you are!" The voice droned on... "It's ten to eight!"

"Actually it's quarter to eight...."

When I eventually made the dreaded but inevitible step outside I dscovered to my delight that I had managed to stall a whole seven minutes longer than I normally did. This was possibley a new record! With that happy thought I actually took seven steps at a normal pace before I realized what I was doing and slowed down to my usual dawdle. Although the sun was shining, the air kept the cool, brisk tinge that it had adorned the past four days.

I passed the usual druggies on their stoops or behind shacks. On one street corner, several university students who were clearly high were gathered around a scragily looking guy who was sprawled on the ground unconscious. The kid had dark red hair that was unkept and looked as if it hadn't been washed in weeks; his face was covered with acne. I was pretty sure I recognized him from one of the other grade nine classes. I didn't really know him, but it made me sad. This is a pretty pathetic world we're living in.

By the time I crossed the final curb, I had only twelve minutes left to kill before the bell rang. I thought about that expression, "Killing time." It'd be great for a movie. The plot would center around these two guys who had to asassinate a guy with the last name Time. At some point, a cop would catch them setting something up and ask "Hey you, what're you doing?". "Oh nothing," one of the men could answer cooly, without fear of telling a mistruth. "We're just killing Time."

The bell rang. Like a vaccum, I and every other student was sucked into the decrepit building and swept through the halls like a great change of the tide pausing only briefly for an attendence check in homeroom. My first class was science, something I was not looking forward to.

Ms. Gweneth taught science. Sort of. When she did teach, she was actually somewhat competent. Unfortunately, it was a rare ocassion when she actually talked about the ciriculum. I suppose I should feel sorry for her, but to be honest, it's pretty hard to sympathize with most of the stuff she tells us. Especially when taken into concideration the fact that she relates all these happenings to a class of teenagers. Needless to say, professional work ethics, she knew not. The last few classes had been largely uneventful so I was expecting a scene today. I was not disappointed.

When I entered the classroom, Ms. Gweneth was leaning her head on folded arms which littered the surface of her desk. An empty Kneenex box sat next to her twitching hand and it's contents lay spilled across both the desk and the floor area within a one meter radius. The curtains had been drawn, giving the usually bright classroom a meloncholey feel not unlike that of a coal mine situated beneath a large body of water. The smell of stale popcorn lingered in the air, and every seventeen seconds or so a startlingly loud whimper would escape from the heap of limp body parts that was Ms. Gweneth. It was at least three minutes after the bell had rung before she at last emerged from what I later realized was very close to a fetal position and addressed the class.

"Good morning class." The mascera under her eyes had run somewhat flamboyantyly, making her face remind of a Jackson Pollock painting. "I say "good" because of course, it is sunny out and so I do beleive that we can safely assume that it is a good day for..." she paused to catch her breath. "...solar observation." At this another whimper escaped and stood up, clawing at her eyes as if determined to not start crying again. "That alone should make this a, sniff, 'good' day. In fact, that and nothing else should make this a good day." She was beginning to get visibley upset, her voice rising with every new sentence. "Because you know class, if you can make 'solar observations'," she waved her hands like she was casting a magic spell. I'm not sure what she thought she was doing. "You really don't need anything else. Not even a, sniff, loving, dedicated, brilliant and...and..." she sneezed dramatically. "Attractive girlfriend whom you've been living with for..." At this she viciously reached behind her to where a new box of Kleenex was lodged under a book and blew her nose. "Two-wo-wo wee-eeks!" She callapsed back in her chair and started sobbing. It sounded like she was still trying to talk but it may have just been her wailing, which often resembled a tribal victory chant song by drowning monkeys.

Several students looked around at each other as if not sure what to do, I was used to this sort of behavior by now though so I merely stared at the woman with a look that I hoped wouldn't be recognized as bemused pity. Not pity towards her latest bad break-up, but the shear patheticness of this adult who was crying before my eyes.

She abruptly stood up and paced to the other side of the room, her expression suddenly changed to one of determined anger.

"And it wasn't as if I hadn't been encouraging." She said, as if chastising the entire room. "I told him everyday, I said 'Jeff, if you want to observe the sun, you go and make the best observations you can.' But did that change him? Did that make him love me?" She burst into tears again.

I couldn't help but smile at the irony that she was standing directly to the right of a large poster enblazened with the words "Smile, Every Day Can be a Happy Day!".

"And then I ask him what he wants to do about it, and do you know what he said? He actually had the nerve to imply that my pedatory behavior is akin to that of a Anas Rubripes! Honestly! I don't even like solar eclipses! And how was I supposed to know the knob was made of..of....crystal...and...." Here she trailed off into loud sobs once more. At this the poster beside her slid off the wall and landed face down on the floor. The tape holding it up had let go, apparently succumbing to the dreary patheticness that was being displayed in depressingly large quantities.

"Um.... Ms. Gweneth?" I asked, raising my hand tentatively. "What do you want us to do?"

"Just read chapter fourteen." She said lightly, through sobbing breaths.

Between the soap opera that was science, social studies (in which I had to correct the teacher on a huge error she made regarding viking eating habits whilst making it seem more like an observational question as to not offend her but ensure that the class learned the correct thing), and english (which featured not only a finger puppet show, but also a surprise visit from a mostly liquidated form of Jimmy Pearson's breakfast) I was at the end of my patience and did not think I would be able to sit through a class with Mr. Illuvitar no matter what the consequences might be. At least I had lunch in between to cool off a bit. Although it was only twenty minutes long, lunch was the only free time during school when I could actually stay in the library and read whatever I wanted. It was just about all that kept me sane on days like today.

I made my way down the hall towards the library. It was on the complete other side of the school from where I was, but I could be a pretty fast walker when I wanted and estimated an arrival time in twenty two seconds. At that second, however, I heard a voice that stopped me in my tracks. It was Sam. I looked in the direction of the voice just in time to see her coming around the corner from the intersecting hall. She was with a friend, talking animatedly so instead of going directly to see her I continued the short distance to my locker and kneeled down next tp it, hoping to get her alone if I waited a few minutes. She had also stopped at her locker which was down the hall far enough that she didn't see me, but I could hear what she was talking about. I wasn't trying to eavesdrop, but under the circumstances it was impossible not to.

At first I wasn't sure what they were talking about. Sam seemed to be describing someone and her friend laughed.

"He's just amazing! Kind of quirky, I suppose, but in a good way. And really smart too, you can tell by the way he talks. He even knew stuff about The Beatles that I hadn't even heard! Someday I'm going to marry him."

For one fleeting second, I thought, well, hoped she might be talking about me. Then I heard the words "substitute" amongst some other mumbling from her friend and realized that it had to be a teacher who was in for one of the other teachers. I mentalling ran through all the teachers, trying to think of anyone who might not be here today. No one came to mind.

"What'd you say his name was again?" asked her friend, more distinctly.

"Drofloc..." Sam said breathlessly. "Mr. Drofloc."

Matt A

08-18-2005, 03:39 PM

As blackly comedic as ever, much to my delight. The scene with Ms. Gweneth now currently ranks as my top "cruel but gut-burstingly funny" moment (and that's of all time) especially when you factor in the poster bit: good God was that genius! But then, much to my surprise, you follow that up slice of sadistic legend-ness with the scene with Sam, and the single worst piece of news that a guy as deeply in love as Ewan is can ever hear. You know, I can't imagine for one second that he'll take it lying down...;):anime::anime::evil::evil:

-Matt A-

enigmatic_one

08-18-2005, 09:17 PM

Chapter 11

I paused in stunned silence. Drofloc? I had never heard of the name. Could this mean that finally, after years of cycling through the three or four usual substitutes, the school actually had brought in some new blood? I knew this was probably just wishful thinking, yet it seemed clear from that conversation I had just heard that this was the case. I trusted Sam's judgement irrevocabley, so if her high praises were any indication, this man had the potential to be a highly fascinating individual.

I continued on my way to the library (Sam had left with her friend by now), trying to descern what teacher might be sick. I had had Gweneth, Picard, and Young already today, so they were ruled out. I had Young again in the last class of the day, so the only other teacher I had that day was Mr. Illuvitar, who had never missed a day in the three years that he taught me, so he was out. I sighed thinking I wouldn't have the opportunity to meet the man whom Sam had so raved about. Prehaps he would be back again sometime.

I found the library in it's usual state of desertion. The only other one there was a short kid with a hood covering his face who had fallen asleep next to the window. I ignored him and took out the new book I had started at the end of english class. It was a book I had just bought called "Ross Lepergy and the Egg of Drakone", written by a young author of twenty-one. It had become an over night success with critics christening it the new "Lief Robertson trilogy". I am usually hesetant to take books seriously when they are so blatantly compared to previous, successful series', however I had found the Lief Robertson trilogy to be so insightful, so clever, and so well written that if anyone dared to compare something else to it, the else in question must be pretty good. Thus, I picked up where I had left off, shortly after the third chapter.

Ross Lepergy was a wizard.

"A what?" he asked.

"A wizard!" exclaimed the short, moustached man.

"A what?" he asked.

"A wizard!" exclaimed the short, hopping man.

"A what?" he asked.

"A WIZARD!" exclaimed the short, exasperated man.

"Now, wait a minute." he said. "Do you mean to say that I am good at spinning cheese?"

With that the six men spun around on their heads and were gone in a puff of smoke.

"Well that was odd," he thought, and went back to his brandy.

The next day, he went to work. He expected it would be like any other day. He was correct. The door opened for him just like any other day. His air conditioner was broken, just like any other day. His secretary wouldn't speak to him just like any other day. The toucan in his office was stuffed just like any other day. I suppose it would be interesting to tell you at this point that the toucan, while stuffed, did deliver a very special message to Ross that day. It didn't though so there's no point lying about it. He banged his head off the top of the door frame when he walked into his office, just like any other day. He pushed the remaints of his lunch from yesterday into the trash, just like any other day. It was just like any other day.

He picked up a phone and called his wife.

"Loretta, it's Ross, your hisband. Did you change the lightbulb in the study?" he asked.

"No." she said.

"Did you clean up the mess in the bathroom?" he asked.

"No." she said.

"Did you start cooking dinner for us to eat?" he asked.

"No." she said.

"Did you do anything today?" he asked.

"No." she said.

"Alright, bye." he said.

"Why do you always ask these things in fours?" she asked.

"No." he said. And hung up.

I quickly flipped through the rest of the book, a bead of frustration starting to drip down my forehead. Surely the entire book couldn't be filled with this dribble! Alas, it appeared it was. I paused every twenty pages or so to read a sentence or two, hoping for some sign of intellent writing. None was to be found. It would be different if this was meant as a satire or parody, but even that wasn't the case. This book was the end result of a lot of terrible writing, there was no getting around it! I closed the book dejectedly and put it back in my bag, slightly more roughly than I would usually even dream of touching a book. I looked at my watch: three more minutes until the bell. Might as well head towards class. I thought.

I didn't walk down the hall as quickly as I normally would if I wanted to be somewhere, but I didn't dawdle either. Being late for one of Illuvitar's classes was tantamount to a death sentence. Still, I didn't want to be unnecessarily early as every second spent with the mad man was a risk in itself. I had already prepared myself for the fact that having avoided detention the previous day, the odds were in my favour for getting at least one today. Besides choosing random rows, other methods of allocating punishment which Mr. Illuvitar was partial too included surprise homework checks, the results of which were almost always fabricated, "twenty questions" (failure to answer them all correctly was rewarded with detention and extra homework), and something known throughout the student body as "I-wish-I-was-wearing-grey day" on which he would choose a colour at random and anyone wearing that colour would would be kept after school and made to tye dye old clothes. The last of these options was my least favourite, but none of them were exactly entertaining.

I looked at my watch, now outside Mr. Illuvitar's class. The bell was set to ring in eight-teen seconds. I figured I was cutting it close enough and with a deep breath walked inside the classroom. To my surprise, Illuvitar was not there. No teacher was there. Just twenty-some students sitting silently and looking expectantly around the room. I quickly took my seat and joined my peers with an inquisitory glance around the room. At first, it seemed exactly the same, clean to perfection with the same stale quality to the air. But then I notice something quite unusual. Odd even. The chalkboard was tarnished by the pressence of about a paragraph written in letters that were slightly larger than is usually concidered acceptable on a chalk board.

This in itself was quite extraordinary as Mr. Illuvitar had a strict "no writing on the chalkboard" rule whom everyone, including himself, was privy to. This was the first time so much as a word had graced the dark green slab. There was something else unusual about these words, something about their very nature. To verify that my mind wasn't just playing tricks on me, I opened my book and started copying the words into the scribbler, trying not to think about it so it would be as casual and natural as possible. This is what it said:

1. Complete worksheet regarding algebric expressions (to be handed out)

2. Upon completion, complete pages 831 and 832 in textbook

Once 1 and 2 are completed, read or work on something from another class.

1 and 2 are expected to be completed for homework if not finished in the time given.

As I finished copying the last word, I looked back up at the board, then down at my scribbler, then back at thebboard again. There was no way of denying it. The handwriting on both the board and the page were identical.

At that moment, a man walked in the door. He was an average height with dark hair and bangs that crept dangerously close to his eyes, which were green. He was a young man, I estimated about twenty-six, but his face held an enigma that made him seem much older, as if he had experienced and learned a lot in his life. As he walked, his head bent down slightly towards the floor in a sort of hunch. This was rectified, however, when he had situated himself at the front of the class and paused to survey the students before he spoke. Then he smiled and all trace of weariness or age vanished. It was as if he were a school child being offered a large bar of chocolate, so enarmoured he was at the prospect of meeting and being able to teach this class of teenagers.

"Salutations." he began, the grin still on his face. I realized that it was his eyes that really made the smile so real, it was oddly comforting. "I am Mr. Drofloc."

My eyes brightened as I smiled and simaltaneously chastized myself for not making the connection sooner. I could see immediently why Sam had been so impressed by him.

"Unfortunately," he continued. His voice was quiet yet no one dared make a sound for fear of missing what this perplexing stranger had to say. "Mr. Illuvitar has suffered an accident while driving home last night. I shall be here as a replacement while he is in the hospital today, and most likely for the next few days. I hope we can get to know one another in that time and prehaps learn something as well." He touched his bangs gently, pushing them to the side.

"For right now, Mr. Illuvitar has expressed that he wishes you to complete a worksheet as well as some problems in your textbook..." he paused and looked at the board. "However, I beleive that if you can successfully complete the worksheet, prehaps we can save the further problems for a later time." He once again surveyed the class to be sure that this announcement was met favourabley, which, needless to say, it was. "While you are working on this sheet, unless anyone has any objections, I would be delighted to play some thinking music to prehaps aid you in a subconscious way..." At this he lifted a small tape player off the floor and set it on his desk.

I subtley smiled to myself. I had had one or two teachers in the past who had also employed this method, to my delight. The well known theory that listening to Mozart makes you smarter is, in the least, a gift to the ear, even if there is no actual academic benefit (my own tests on this theory have been inconclusive towards either resolution). Music, of course, is a truly wonderful thing and I find the classical genre to be severely under-rated in today's day and age. Unfortunately, the majority of people in my age group feel that its rating is more than adequate. As soon as he had completed the announcement, an outbreak of protest manifested itself in the form of several derogatory comments about classical in general, and one very obscene implication involving Bach. Mr. Drofloc held up his hands to silence the crowd.

"Now I know most teachers consider classical music condusive of learning..."

"Why does he have to use big words?" I heard someone whispering. "He sounds just like Ewan..." My eyes widened, I had been thinking the same thing.

"But I have something else that I prefer..." Mr. Drofloc pressed the play botton on the tape player and started handing out the math work sheets.

My eyes widened further when seven glassy notes I distinctly recognized as the beginning of "Yardbird Suite" glazed from the player with the silky, golden beauty that could only come from a freshly polished trumpet. Jazz music. Mr. Drofloc liked jazz music. Not only that, but trumpet jazz music. And he had my handwriting. And he talked like me.

Something was clearly amis.

Reket

08-19-2005, 03:45 PM

Funny, serious, and the chapters are on the short side for a novel especially but a build-up of all these chapters takes a while to read and I will up my opinions later. :)

~carrot

Matt A

08-19-2005, 03:50 PM

Something was clearly amis.

And I think I can guess what, although my idea would throw the story so far off kilter as to be not worth considering. So I'm simply going to say that I've now got precisely zero idea what's going on...but, obscurely enough, I like it that way. Mysteries are good fun, so I'm not going to complain that I'm seeing one here.;):anime::anime::anime:

Oh, and by the way...check my sig.;)

-Matt A-

enigmatic_one

08-19-2005, 09:20 PM

Reket: I kept the initial bunch of chapters somewhat short (although, yes they do build up), and I'll probablt eventually end up combining a few of them. From here on end though the chapters are pretty much all conciderabley longer.

Welshie's Mate: Well, you won't fimd out exactly what's up for another chapter or two, but there're enough hints throughout this next chapter that you'll probably be able to figure it out before it's "revealed". I wouldn't be surprised if your initial "obscure" guess turned out to be true. It does sort of chaneg the nature of the story, and is in a lot of ways the "main" plot. That is, when people ask me what the story's about this is generally what I tell them so it's refreshing to have someone get to this pint who actually doesn't know what's going on. And I did notice your sig yesterday! It really made my day. :anime: :anime: Yay for publicity! Seriously though, I really appreciate it. :)

Here's the next chapter!

~Enigmatic One

enigmatic_one

08-19-2005, 09:22 PM

Chapter 12

If this book was being written from the perspective of another student in that class, this chapter might begin something like this:
"Ewan worked furiously, pencilling in answers to the swinging beat of "SIng, Sing, Sing". He stared viciously at the sheet, not even blinking. So deeply was he concentrated on those math problems that I doubted he was even aware of the quiet chatter that fermented the room, often fervered by the occassional comments of Mr. Drofloc who was making his way through the classroom, offering suggestions and instruction where necessary."
This assesment, however, was largely inaccurate. While my hands were preoccupied in finishing the sheet and giving the appearance of business, my mind was only vaguely aware that this was even a math class, leaving the "work" (solving for x in a simple, one variable expression) to my subconscious so that I could concentrate on more pressing issues.
One of the most common misconceptions about time travel is that events happen once, and then happen again in a different manner when time travel has taken place. For example, suppose Tommy woke up, got on his bus and went to school. Now it is suggested that it would be possible for someone to go back in time and somehow sabatage the bus, making it impossible for Tommy to get on the bus, and consequently thrusting the timeline into an alternate track in which everything changes based on the changes made by the time traveller. This, of course, is poppycock. As any self respecting physicist will tell you, one of time's most prominent features is that it is a constant. Therefore, if someone were to go back in time, they would actually be back in time, when the events first happened. Therefore they would be a part of the way things first happened. Thus, if someone sabataged the bus, prior to someone going back in time, history would have already shown that someone had sabotaged the bus and Tommy did not get on it (this is a complicated subject so don't worry if you have to re-read this a couple times before you understand it).
The relevance of this revelation is enormous. Because time is a constant, it is impossible to damage the present or the future by travelling into the past. That's what I hate about most books or movies about time travel; they're always so concerned about not polluting the timeline or affecting events because they're worried they'll get back to the present and find out that it's become a desert. This is impossible because time is a constant. Any changes made in the past are in fact an important part of what made the present unfold the way it did, just like any other events that happened without the aid of time travel.
The immediate relevance was also enormous. Because time is a constant, I knew that not only did Mr. Drofloc know exactly what I was thinking right now, but also he already knew, to some extent anyway, what he was going to do, which I'm sure alleviated a lot of the pressure on him. This was all assuming my hypothesis was correct, of course. There was obviously no where near enough evidence thus far to even suggest that it was anything more than a hypothesis. In fact, the very idea was preposterous and didn't deserve another moment of my brain's attention. And yet it had it. My brain was completely enraptured. I wasn't going to let this go without a thorough investigation.
Using my peripheral vision, something I had trained and finely atuned so that images even at the very edge of my range of vision could be seen with perfect clarity, I carefully studied Mr. Drofloc. He didn't look at all like me, of course, but that was to be expected. I could hardly imagine that I would be as sloppy as that. I would have already known, of course, that I would figure it out at once, but there wouldn't be any need to draw unnecessary attention toward any similarities we might have. I guessed he was using some type of holographic disguise, or possibley a robot body being remotely controlled.
No, no, no, no. This is ridiculus. This isn't a hypothesis, it's the plot of a poorly thought out science fiction novel. There was absolutely no way that this could even be concievable. And even if it was, I would have to go about it sensibley, scientificly, without jumping to ludicrous conclusions just because of some similar handwriting and speaking habits and passion for novels... You know, maybe he is... NO! No, no, no! I cannot think like this! It's all circumstantial! I shall put this from my mind and not think of it again!
And yet as the class progressed, this became an increasingly difficult feat. Aside from his appearance, similarities just kept popping up. The multitude and consistancy of these similarities was the only thing that kept me from questioning my sanity when I again and again became fixated with this insane notion. Everything about the way he moved, his walk, his hand gestures, even the way he smiled with his front teeth clearly visible but the bottom row hidden by his bottom lip. I knew I could have disguised my movements and habits inifinitely better than he was doing now, so I could only assume that he wanted me to be suspicious. Hopefully that would make it easier when I eventually confronted him about this theory, once I had more evidence. NO! Here I was again, taking it completely seriously, planning even! The whole thing is my imagination, it's not possible, it's...
"How're you doing Ewan?" I turned my head sharply to face him. I was embarrassed that he had managed to come so close without my noticing, but even more startled by his use of my first name.
"Uh, just fine, sir." I said, glancing down at my paper to make sure there weren't any mistakes.
"Excellent. Well, just let me know if you have any questions." he smiled and continued on his tour of the class.
I kept my eyes trained on him now, not even bothering to be subtle about it. I must have been right about him being smart if he had memorized everyone's name already. Either that or he was really.... No. I can't start thinking like that. It's a theory, a rather far fetched one at that, and it cannot be concidered more than that without some strand of evidence that's not purely circumstantial. Without thinking, I flipped my scribbler back to the page where I had copied Mr. Drofloc's writing. The script really was identical.
Alright, enough of this crazyness for now. I thought, flipping back to the math sheet and trying to push the insessant thought from my mind.
Before too long, the bell rang.
"Alright, good work everone." Mr. Drofloc said, clapping his hands together as he addressed the class. "You really got a lot done so no homework tonight! I'll see you all tomorrow."
I stood up and was herded towards the door by my fellow students.
"See you tomorrow, sir." I said hastily as I approached the door.
Mr. Drofloc looked at me and smiled knowingly. "See you tomorrow, Ewan."
There it was again, first name. Was this the mark of a thorough teacher? Or could it be more?
"Good morning boys and girls!" Mr. Young began his class with his usual inadvertantly patronizing remarks.
"Good morning, Mr. Young!" Came an ethusiastic response from a couple of smart alek-y boys sitting together in the back.
I didn't bother pointing out that it was in fact two in the afternoon and instead opted to pour my entire concentration into this class, painful as that was, in order to avoid paranoid, delusional thoughts that wouldn't seem to leave my mind.
"It's Wednesday!" beamed the unbearabley cheerful voice of Mr. Young. "Do you know what that means? Sing along day!!!" Mr. Young pulled out a guitar from behind his back. Normally I would be all for the idea of learning through music. Unfortunately, what Mr. Young spewed out was not music.
"Now a noun is a person place or thing, a person place or thing, a person place or thing! It really gives us cause to laugh and sing, cause a noun is a person place or thing." He warbled in and out of key to the straining sounds of his guitar strings which appeared to be trying to hang themselves between stums rather than face the agony that the rest of us were all sitting through.
"Now verbs!" he began again with renewed vigor. "Oh verbs are actions that we do, actions that we do, actions that we do. Even lying down, hey! that's a verb too, 'cause verbs are actions that we all do."
Thankfully, a knock on the door disturbed Mr. Young right then before he could break into a new one, "Pride and Predicate".
"Allorosa, get the door please." said Mr. Young, clearly annoyed at being interupted before his sitting was over.
A smile rushed to my face compusively as I savoured the break, however short it may be, from the horrific noise that promised to continue for the next thirty minutes. That smile quickly opened up to a gasp of shock, however, when the door opened and the figure standing behind it was revealed to be none other than...
"Ah, Mr. Drofloc." Mr. Young said, standing up. "Can I help you with something?"
"Uh, yes." he said, entering the room. "I was sent by the office to inform you that you have an urgent call on line two." he lowered his voice. "It's you sister."
"Oh dear!" said Mr. Young, quickly putting his guitar down and walking towards the door. he stopped when he seemed to realize he still had a class in session. "Oh my, er, Mr. Drofloc, would you possibley be able to watch my class while I'm gone? I shouldn't be long."
"Why, certainly." Mr. Drofloc said, smiling. "I have an offclass this period so I'd be delighted to keep an eye on your students."
"Thank you." said Young quickly. "Now students, be good for Mr. Drofloc while I'm gone. Here," he picked up a textbook from the nearest desk and started flipping through it frantically. "Just read Chapter 25: Commas and Colons and Periods, Oh My! and do the questions. Mr. Drofloc will be here if you need any help and I should be back before the end of the class. Good bye!" he practically ran out of the class.
I opened my book to the chapter Young had mentioned and started to read, determined not to let Mr. Drofloc's pressence alter or influence my thoughts in any way, especially not towards a theory that was clearly the result of an over active imagination combined with a poor sleep the night before. I tried to concentrate completely on the book.

Of the sixteen basic punctuation marks, the most comma, I'm sorry, common is without a doubt the period.

Mr. Drofloc was walking around the classroom as he had in math, offering help and, it seemed, anecdotes. Concentrate on the book! I told myself.

A period is a small dot which is put at the end of a sentence to indicate that that sentence, or "period" (heh heh), is complete (see right here).

"May I see your book for a moment?" This time, I'm reluctant to admit, I had seen him coming. I nodded my concent and he picked up my textbook. He flipped to the front dustcover and searched it with his eyes for a moment before letting out a small chuckle and looking at me again.
"You won't beleive this but this used to be my book when I went here."
I smiled as he handed me back the book to look at. So he did go to this school at least... I pondered. I wonder if this counts as my first practical eviden...
I stopped when I realized that the long list of names which ended with the most recent signature, mine, did not feature anything even remotely similar to Drofloc.
"Uh, sir." I said, puzzled. "This doesn't have your name on it."
"Oh, it wouldn't have Uric U. Drofloc on it." he said, his eyes twinkling. I noticed he was staring directly into my eyes. "No, I went by a different name back then." He turned to go but then paused and as if it was an afterthought added, "I wonder if you can guess what it was."
I was jarred. This was definately proof that I was not going crazy. Either that or it was. Or prehaps I wasn't crazy but still basing the entire thing on coincidental happenings. It took me a few minutes of uncertainty before I realized something that should have come to me immediently in math class. There was only one way to find out if I was justified in making these assumptions. I had to talk to Sam.

Matt A

08-20-2005, 06:44 AM

Yeah, I was thinking along the same lines as Ewan...but that still doesn't mean that either of us are right.:sweat::sweat::sweat:

Anyway, that was all good fun, as per usual. Ewan's ponderings on the nature of time travel were interesting to read, and actually made a lot of sense (though I've still got a good idea as to why his view is wrong, but I'm not sure I could explain it without melting my own brain, let alone anyone else's). But, best of all, we had some more of your comedic genius to go along with the more sophisticated stuff: Ewan's continued mental chastising was very funny, if only because that kind of storytelling still features so rarely in 1st-person, and the second arrival of Mr Uric D. Drofloc (fantastic name if ever there was one) had a ring of fate-coming-together that somehow nearly had me in a fit of giggles. I imagine that's just me being strange, but hey ho.:shrug:

That was good work, as I've come to expect from you. Keep it up.:anime::anime::anime::anime::anime:

-Matt A-

PS:
And I did notice your sig yesterday! It really made my day. :anime: :anime: Yay for publicity! Seriously though, I really appreciate it. :)I'm just doing what I can to help out. This story deserves more attention.;):anime::anime::anime:

Oh, and whilst I'm on the subject, there's something else to bear in mind: if there's anything that anyone knows about me, it's that I'm the very nearly the biggest Chemical Brothers fan in the known universe. Think about that one.;)

enigmatic_one

08-20-2005, 11:59 AM

Oh, and whilst I'm on the subject, there's something else to bear in mind: if there's anything that anyone knows about me, it's that I'm the very nearly the biggest Chemical Brothers fan in the known universe. Think about that one.;)
WOW. Well, once again thank you very much, I appreciate it tres much. Glad the story still manages not to disappoint. :anime:

~Enigmatic One

PS. Small thing (probably a typo on your part), but it's Uric U. Drofloc. It's significient or else I wouldn't have mentioned it.

enigmatic_one

08-20-2005, 12:03 PM

Chapter 13

I streaked though the streets, sprinting swiftly down the sidewalk, the soles of my shoes singing softly on the cement. Although I rarely exhibited myself in such a manner, when there was need I was actually quite an adept runner. I never ran to school, since the goal was to take as much time as possible, and if the truth could be known, I actually found the fresh air somewhat refreshing and so I usually took my time going home as well. On days like today though, special days, when getting home quick was preferable, I ran. I ran all the way down Marilu Lane, Danza Lane, Kaufman Cresent, through the park, the shortcut through Old Man Lloyd's backyard (He's a funny character. Maybe I'll tell you about him another time), Kane Lane, and Carver's Peak before I finally turned on to Hirsch Street and slowed to a jog. My house was the second one after the curb once you got on Hirsch Street, right next to the Paramount Taxi Company's (PTC) main garage. It was a pretty good neighbour hood, by city standards. Only one "Reefer Den", and it was on the other end of the street.

I headed straight for my computer, turning the machine on before i had even taken off my shoes or turned off the lights. Sam lived right next to the school so she was definately home already, and right after school was when she was usually most likely to be online. I sat down in front of the computer, tapping my fingers impatiently on the mouse as the ancient artifact slowly booted up.

After what seemed like an hour the blue welcome screen popped up and then a flicker of light as my desktop (a collage of Reg Drake book covers) slowly faded onto the monitor. I gave it a second to make sure everything was working so that I didn't freeze it up and then quickly clicked on my Instant Messanger icon and pressed the botton to connect me to the network. I waited while the little clock graphic ticked around, indicated that it was trying to connect. My computer was slow, but it was being even slower today. I cancelled and then tried pressing it again, hoping it had just been a momentary glitch. When I had waited four minutes and it still hadn't connected I was almost sure it was more than that, though. I opened an internet browser just to be certain and sure enough, instead of www.google.ca, the eternally dreaded "Page cannot be displayed" page came up. I released the mouse in frustration and spun around in my chair, resisting the urge to slam my fist at the side of the computer. The intrenet was down again.

This is not an uncommon occurance, in fact far from it. We have a pretty cheap telephone company, and an even cheaper package with them. We're still on dial-up, probably the last house in the city not to get highspeed. Sometimes it's down for an hour, sometimes the whole day. I don't normally mind it so much, but I rarely had such a pressing need to get online! If anyone would be able to see the same connection with the given evidence, circumstancial as it may be, it would be Sam. Plus she already had met, and apparently really liked Mr. Drofloc. I spun around and tried connecting one final time before giving up. I'd try again in an hour, with any luck it might be back.

I lay back in bed, closing my eyes to think undesturbed. Was I crazy for investing so much into this insane idea when there was relatively no reason to beleive this was anything more than a fantasy inspired by one too many days of mediocrate and boredom? Would I have come up with a fantastic theory about any new substitute that broke the cycle? Was I really that desperate for change? No, no, it couldn't be. Sure there was this... this instinct about it, this feeling that I couldn't get rid of, but that wasn't it. Soething about the way he looked at me, the way he spoke to me using my first name, both times, the aura of familiarity that embodied him. It was as if I had known him before, like he was my best friend. I had felt completely at ease. There was only one other peson who had ever made me feel like that before, and that was why I knew that she would listen, she wouldn't brush it off or call me crazy. Maybe she'd even beleive me.

I had hardly known my father. Well, didn't really. My parents hadn't been married when I was born and broke up shortly after. I had met him a couple times, a few years ago. We went to a movie, a restaurant, that sort of thing. He seemed like a nice enough guy, I guess. I mean, it wasn't really enough time to memorize the names of all his uncles or anything like that. I guess that why it didn't really effect me all that much when we heard he had died a couple years later. He got into a fatal car accident involving an owl and a barrel of gasoline. Very tragic, from what I was told. Freak occurance. Apparently he would have been fine if it weren't an overzealous smoker in the Ferrari. I guess he got what he deserved too, though. Someone should have told him that smoking kills.

After an hour I tried connecting again and was sadly disappointed. I concidered just running to her house and talking to her in person, but I had never been invited before and wasn't sure she'd appreciate me just dropping in. I gazed around my room, hoping to find a book I really wanted to read to take my mind off of this impatient anxiousness, but Reg Drake had marked the end of my annual re-read of all the classic favourites, so there was nothing fresh there, and after the disaster in the library today I was not too excited about starting something new.

I thought about the day, once more going over everything that I concidered to be evidence towards my theory. With a sharp start I paniced momentarily as I thought I had forgotten about homework that Mr. Illuvitar had assigned, but then I remembered that it was been math that Drofloc was substituting today and he hadn't given any, so I was safe having left my book at school. This reminded me that I did, however, have social studies homework. That was a breeze compared to what Illuvitar might have sentenced us to, but it still had to be done. I walked back into the front room to retreave my school bag and poured myself a glass of orange juice for myself on my way back to the confines of my room. I didn't have to be in my room, I had the house to myself until Mom got home at six. I prefered the familiarity of it though. I had everything I needed there to sustain myself.

I opened the textbook and found the questions I was supposed to be answering. They were only ten and they could all be answered within a sentence or two, I knew each of my answers would take up at least seven lines, however. I liked to be thorough.

I was almost done question eight ("In what ways are the Scandinavian Vikings similar/disimilar to the pirates of the Caribbean?") when a high pitched beeping sound caotured my attention. I turned to my computer and found that Instant Messenger had been trying to connect since the last time I had tried (evidently I had forgotten to cancel), and now it finally had!

I closed the textbook quite suddenly and leapt into the computer chair, hurrying to see if Sam was on. She was! Her status was set to away, of course, but there was still a chance she was really there. I opened a window and typed in a hurried geeting.

EwanJackson says:

Hey Sam!

I sat griped to the edge of my seat, waiting for the response I wasn't certain would follow. Come on..... Come on..... I thought. If there was ever a time when I wanted her to be "away", it was now. She had to be there.... Ten seconds and still nothing, but that was pretty common. Sometimes it took a second to establish a connection with another server. Fourty seconds..... She had to be there. A minute passed with nothing..... Two minutes....

Matt A

08-20-2005, 04:50 PM

Cliffhanger! Gah!:eek::eek::eek::eek::eek:

But hey, cliffhangers work, and I should know. Just ask anyone who reads my stuff...;):evil::evil::evil:

And now to business: that chapter didn't really tell us anything new, but it was still as enjoyable to read as everything that's gone before. I can understand Ewan's b*tching about dail-up, 'cause I've only just ditched that blot on the technological landscape myself. The extra info on Ewan's homelife was another interesting treat: I'd been wondering about how his dad fit into things, and now I know. Wait a minute, I've just had an idea...nah, it's probably wrong.;):shrug::sweat:

Anyway, I await more chapters, more quality, and maybe a few answers. I doubt you'll dissapoint.;):anime::anime::anime:

-Matt A-

enigmatic_one

08-20-2005, 07:37 PM

Answers are coming, as are chapters and (I hope) quality. Cliffhangers are coming too, lots and lots of 'em! So it's nice to know you're so fond of them. :evil: As for your thought, if it's what I think it is it's what I hoped the reader would think at this point.... I'll leave you on the enigmatic note.

~Enigmatic One

enigmatic_one

08-20-2005, 07:46 PM

Chapter 14

SamWilliams says:

Hey Ewan! What's up?

I swivelled my chair back to face the computer upon hearing that blissful "Bleep" that meant someone had responded. I typed quickly, offering the manditory response to her query.

EwanJackson says:

Not much. You?

SamWilliams says:

Not much. Hey, did you have Mr. Drofloc today?

EwanJackson says:

I was just going to ask you the same thing!!!

Sam Williams says:

Woah! Well you know what they say about great minds. So did you think he was just the best thing ever too or what?

EwanJackson says:

He's bloody amazing!

SamWilliams says:

Haha, I know!

EwanJackson says:

He is without a doubt the best teacher I have ever had.

SamWilliams says:

Some day, I am going to marry him.

EwanJackson says:

Haha.

SamWilliams:

No, seriously. I'm going to marry him.

EwanJackson says:

Brad is going to be so disappointed.

Brad was her boyfriend. They'd been going out since before I met her, almost a year ago. I'd never actually met him myself but I knew he was a jerk.

SamWilliams says:

So what's new in the extraordinarily fascinating life of Ewan Jackson?

EwanJackson says:

Well, I went to school today.... That's it.

SamWilliams says:

Hahahaha.

EwanJackson says:

Actually, I wanted to talk to you about Mr. Drofloc.

SamWilliams says:

You mean about something other than how completely dreamy he is?

EwanJackson says:

Haha, no comment on that one.

SamWilliams says:

Haha.

EwanJackson says:

No, I actually had something semi-important. It's something that's been bugging me all day and I can't seem to shake it off. You'll probably just say I'm crazy, which is probably what I need to get rid of the idea, but I figured if anyone would be able to see where I'm coming from, it'd be you.

SamWilliams says:

Okay, what is it?

EwanJackson says:

I think I'm Mr. Drofloc.

SamWilliams says:

Wow, that's crazy. During his class, I was actually thinking he was a lot like you.

It blew me away that she was taking this so naturally, as if we were just talking about anything. She was even agreeing with it! She had noticed it before I even said anything! I knew she would be the right one to talk to!

SamWilliams says:

So tell me more, how exactly do you figure he's you?

EwanJackson says:

Well, specifically, I beleive he is me, come back from the future.

SamWilliams says:

So he's your adult self?

EwanJackson says:

Yeah, that's right.

I was amazed at how quickly she was grasping this.

SamWilliams says:

What made you start to suspect this?

EwanJackson says:

Well, of course it's all been circumstantial stuff so far, you said you saw some similarities yourself.

SamWilliams says:

Sure, he talks like you, he does that funny brush-y thing with his bangs that you do.

EwanJackson says:

And his handwriting is identical to mine.

SamWilliams says:

Really?

EwanJackson says:

Yeah, it's crazy.

SamWilliams says:

Wow. Well definately let me know if anything else comes up.

EwanJackson says:

You don't think I'm crazy then?

SamWilliams says:

No, not at all! I think it makes perfect sense. You're both really intelligent, you both have similar habits. And, I think you're both absolutely wonderful, so that's something too.

EwanJackson says:

Aww, thanks. You're absolutely wonderful too.

SamWilliams says:

^^

EwanJackson says:

^^

SamWilliams says:

Well, I have to go now. Brad's coming over in a second and I have to get a few things ready. Talk to you later!

EwanJackson says:

Ciao!

SamWilliams has signed off.

Matt A

08-21-2005, 05:06 AM

Well, that was interesting. Seeing an entire chapter played out as a conversation like that was a pretty unique stylistic touch, and one that actually worked very well on its own terms, giving us space for Ewan's thoughts on the conversation. And speaking of which...now that Ewan's admittedly bizarre theory has been openly expressed, I'm getting a feeling that it'll soon turn out to be completely and utterly wrong. Sam's ready acceptance of Ewan's idea has also got me a little concerned: is it just me, or does she know a lot more than she's letting on? Either way, I'm as engaged in this as I ever was, if not more so. Which is good.:anime::anime::anime:

-Matt A-

enigmatic_one

08-21-2005, 11:32 AM

Chapter 15

"Ewan, get out of bed! You're g...."

I opened the door, fully dressed and ready for school, cutting my mother off before she could finish her daily call to action. I marched through the house, collecting the various things I needed; schoolbag, shoes, piece of toast, and headed out the door. It was only thirteen to eight and already I was on my way to school, I fully expected to come home to find Mom still frozen in a state of schock. That is, if she even noticed that it was different form any other day.

I took a bite of the toast as I strafted along at a steady pace. This wasn't a running ocassion, but niether did I want to dawdle. I smiled to myself realizing that this morning was the first morning ever that I had set out this early or with this amount of purpose in my stride. I couldn't afford to be at all late though. Talking to Sam had done the opposite of what I had hoped it would. Instead of quelling my imagination, she had inspired it and given new hope that maybe this wasn't all just a bazarre fantasty. I guess that was really what part of me was hoping she'd do. And it had worked. Now I was set with an even greater determination to discover the truth. Was Mr. Drofloc me? I didn't hav ethe slightest idea how I would set out to prove something so off the wall, but he did seem to be trying to at least give me some sort of clue, and maybe in time he would even comfront me about it. All I could do for now was make sure I spent as much time with him as I could and wait for more clues to appear. I had math first period today, and if Mr. Drofloc had been correct, he would be there. That meant I had to be there early, able to watch for anything that could be important, and most of all ensuring that I wasn't late for class.

When I arrived at the schoolground I took my usual place by the street and surveyed the streets, for the first time ever actually looking for something specific. It wasn't until eight thirty eight, twelve minutes before the bell would go, that the lone figure whom I had noticed walking towards the school several minutes ago came close enough that I could properly access him and after a short examination deemed him to be none other than the object of my scouting mission. I descreetly observed him as he continued towards the school. When he got to curb, he paused a second before crossing onto the school's side of the street and then briskly walked to a telephone pole with a bush next to it that stood in front of the school.

There was a woman standing next to it, in her early twenty's and tall with long red hair that reflected a glint from the sun. She was wearing sunglasses and a green t-shirt that contrasted her hair and the sharp red hue of her lipstick. As Mr. Drofloc got closer to the telephone pole she stepped forward, engaging him. He smiled and immediently broke in a very animated conversation. They were too far away for me to hear, at the other end of the school. Any attempt to get closer would be overly conspicuous so I held my ground, hoping his rather flambouyant hand gestures might give me some sort of clue as to the nature of their relationship and conversation. He looked at his watch and then gestured for her to walk with him as he started walking towards the great ominous doors of the building. She followed him in, speaking quickly with a pleading look in her eye. Before finally closing the door and entering completely she turned and surveyed the schoolyard, seeming to pick it apart with her eyes before at last going into the school.

I resumed staring at the street, now as per usual just giving the illusion of searching while actually not even aware of my surroundings. This was interesting, most interesting in fact. The fact that he walked was a good sign, he couldn't well have brought a car back from the future with him. And futuristic money wouldn't be any good in this time period. The girl perplexed me though. Who could she be? Another time traveller? A teacher? I had certainly never seen her before. Was she significient?

When the bell rang I was waiting at the door to be sure to get in quickly and ahead of the bustling crowd. I bypassed my locker, having kept my math book in my bag overnight, and headed straight for the math room. I was in such so preoccupied I didn't even notice her until her crystal voice brought me back to the world.

"Hey Ewan."

"Hey Sam!" I said quickly, before I had even become completely aware of my surroundings again.

She smiled, not noticing or ignoring my slight disorientation. "Where're you off to in such a hurry?"

I realized that because I had come in so fast, there was no stream of people throughout the halls and I could actually pause and talk without fear of being trampled. This was probably the most Sam and I had spoken to each other in person in a single conversation!

"I'm just off to math class, Mr. Drofloc is here again so I want to get there early-ish."

"Oooh, anything new to report?" I was amazed that she remained this interested in my crazy theory.

"Not a whole lot, although he met with a young woman on his way in. You may have competition for marrying him." I winked, hoping she'd know I was joking.

"Ewan! You're a stud in the future!" she laughed and I tried to chuckle, really hoping I wasn't blushing. More than anything I wanted to stay here like this, talking to her, but it was getting to the point that I was actually going to be late and I really didn't want to blow this after putting in so much effort to get here early. I opened my mouth, trying to think of a way to communicate this, but she cut me off.

"You better get going if you're going to still be early! Good luck on the investigation!" and with a wave she floated down the hall and was soon swept up by the consuming crowd that was now pouring in. I stared at her until she had disappeared, marvelling at her perfection. As soon as she was out of sight I quickly turned and speed walked down the hall and up a flight of stairs. I looked at my watch; less than a minute till the second bell rang. I could still make it, I was almost there....

I stepped into the classroom and the second my foot touched the floor, the bell screached to life.

"Ah, Mr. Jackson," said Mr. Drofloc, smiling. He and the woman were standing right next to the door, presumabley talking before I had entered. "Right on time, excellent. Please take your seat."

I started for my desk, slightly embarrassed but happy at the same time. I wasn't sure why but I couldn't help smiling. I had forgotten about trying to listen in, but now I couldn't help but hear the woman.

"Just be careful." she wasn't whispering but niether was she speaking at full volume. "You never know what you could c..."

"Yes I do, don't worry!" he sounded kind but bordering on impatient. "You're forgetting I've already seen it! And I have the book."

"I know, I know, but still..."

"I'll be careful, yes. Now get going I have a class to teach." his voice was still light but I wasn't sure how much of the conversation had been teasing and which to take seriously. The girl had sounded rather desperate, actually.

I heard something brushing something else but couldn't make out what it was, and then the door closed. When I turned to sit in my desk I saw that once again a message, crafted with my exact handwriting, adorned the chalkboard. Today it said:

"You know what's wierd?

Day to day, nothing seems to change,

but pretty soon...

everything's different."

- Calvin

I chuckled at this rather profound statement and wondered when "pretty soon" would come for me. "Nothing seemed to change", for sure. Except Mr. Drofloc. And looking up, I noticed he had changed again.

He was standing behind his desk. A yard stick lay in the palm of one hand and he looked out unhappily at us. I was shocked and wondered what had warrented this collosal change in what had seemed the perfect teacher.

"Alright class, I'd check for homework but I'm sure none of you did it so I won't bother! Instead all of you do it again right now while I watch and make sure you use pencil, none of that gel-pen crap! Also I want to see scale-diagrams accompanying your problems and a twelve page essay detailing your hopes and aspirations regarding math to be passed in by the end of this speech, you have about three seconds left, now! Alright everyone line up in single file and pass in your assignments or you will be in detention so fast that they'll have to rename you Speedy Gonzales!"

The class sat wide-eyed and gaping. Not everyone had been as enarmoured by this new substitute as myself and Sam, but no one had suspected behavior like this from the smiling, jazz listening teacher from the day before.

Then the smile came. Breaking through the roomful of sudden tension came a gleeful, child-like laugh from Mr. Drofloc himself. He looked at us all and then broke into the giddy laugh again.

"Ahh, you should have seen the look on your faces!" he wiped a tear from his eye. "I had Illuvitar when I went here, you know! Don't tell me he's gone soft! He used to pull stuff like that everyday, only he was serious!" he succumbed to his laughing spell again and sat in his desk. By now a spattering of nervous laughter had emerged in clumps around the classroom, most of the students still weren't sure what had happened or if so, weren't sure how to react to this formidable impression of Mr. Illuvitar.

"Alright guys, in all seriousness, you know what you're working on. I'm sure you all have something left over from yesterday and if not come and see me and I'll find something else that should be a bit more fun. I'll be around if anyone needs help, lets get to it!"

I took out the problems I had left. They were few, but they left me free to watch Mr. Drofloc. He was his usual jubilant self, yet managed to mantain an aura of authority about himself. My mind wandered back to the red headed lady. Who was she?

About twenty minutes into the class, the PA speaker crackled to life. The poor connection made it almost impossible to decipher what Ms. Turmoil was saying most of the time, but now my ears picked up every word as if she were sitting right next to me. This was yet another thing that had never happened before. Unfortunately, this was something that I had hoped would never happen.

"Ewan Jackson, Ewan Jackson to the main office please. Ewan Jackson."

Matt A

08-21-2005, 02:48 PM

Cliffhanger!!!!!:eek::eek::eek::eek::eek:

But, seriously, just what on earth is going on here? I thought I had a handle on all this, but the more evidence I'm getting that I'm right, the more sure I am that I'm wrong. I'm getting properly confused right now, and I'd better have some answers sharpish...which probably means that I won't be getting any for a while, but hey ho.:shrug:

On a more specific note, I liked Drofloc's impression of Illuvitar. Like all good comedy moments, it came completely out of nowhere: in fact, my reaction was about the same as the students'. And is it just me falling for the obvious, or are Sam's feelings for Ewan a lot deeper than she seems to think? Either way, it's something to ponder, along with the identity of the Drofloc's new companion.

Anyway, keep up the good work. I can't imagine that it'll be a challenge.;):anime::anime::anime:

-Matt A-

PS: The next time you're in the World's Finest Writer's Corner, be sure to check out my stuff. Apparently, it's pretty good.;)

enigmatic_one

08-21-2005, 03:04 PM

I hope it doesn't stay too confusing, part of the nature of the book is to keep you uncertain right to the very end, but I hope it's not overly confusing. A lot changes for Ewan in the next couple chapters and it might seem like a lot of subplots all coming out of no where after the beginning mostly just focussing on Ewan, but I hope you'll find it all to be beleivable and seem natural.

I'm glad your reaction to the Iluvitar impression was similar to the students, that was what I was going for. :D

As for Drofloc's companion....Ahhh.... She's one of my favorite characters in the book. That's all I'm saying for now.

Sam is also supposed to stay much a mystery since she's such a mystery to Ewan, but I hope she'll come to evolve over the book and the reader will be able to figure out exactly what she thinks of Ewan.

As for your own work, I was wondering where it was hiding! I'll be sure to check it out, I'm sure it's quite excellent!

~Enigmatic One

enigmatic_one

08-21-2005, 03:06 PM

Chapter 16

The first and last time that I had people whom I referred to as friends was grade primary. It was a year of uncertaintly, everyone new, everyone struggling, it was natural to try to build connections with as many others as you could. You would accept anyone since everyone was equally disoriented and lonely. Plus there was the niavete factor. Sufficed to say, it was a time when everyone really concidered everyone their friend and didn't really care enough about it to do anything other than take it for granted.

Then grade one hit. Now everything was different. Instead of hesetantly embarking into a strange new place, it was all about triumphantly returning to the place that had become so familliar the year before. Confidence was risen, there was now no insecurity factor, what's more there were a whole new crop of primarys feeling insecure and scared which boosted confidence further. Most importantly, you had friends now. Most of whom you hadn't seen since last June and whom you were now eager to see again and catch up with. This was where I was weeded out from the majority. The people who missed each other most got together, these were generally the ones with the most common interests, and thus was the beginning of social clicks. I did not belong to a click. Maybe it was because I had grown up largely having to entertain myself and thus didn't feel compelled to socialize with others, that instinct of seeking out other humans and associating yourself with them, maybe I had just reached a higher level of realization at this point and could no longer relate with the masses of my age group. For whatever reason though, I was an anomaly. An outcast. There was no one I was excited to see more than anyone else, or anyone that I particularly wanted to hang out with at all. School was for learning, which I had enjoyed the year before, and it didn't make sense to complicate it with this unnecessary activity. That may have been the single most important thought that shaped what was to come for the rest of my school career.

I didn't mind not having friends. I didn't really think about it at the start. Being alone was highly preferable, I could do what I wanted, read, just sit and think; that was all I wanted. Other students had different plans though. You see, being alone made me more than an outcast, it made me a target. I had no other people to back me up or defend me, but more importantly I was different. I wasn't like them. They had groups, I didn't. I read and enjoyed learning new things, challenging myself; they would have been content sitting in a circle and talking. I wasn't the same as they were and so I was a threat, and a threat had to be dealt with.

My own peers didn't come to this conclusion for a few years, but older kids recognized the potential I had for vitimizing almost right away. It started small; harassment, questioning my gender, stealing things from my schoolbag, but eventually it evolved to violence. Bloody noses, chases down the street, threats of more. These were big kids too, like grade five. It's funny looking down at grade five kids now cause they seem so small and helpless, but when you're in grade one and there's five or six of them, they can be quite frightening.

By grade two, it was no longer just older kids. Kids from my class went from generally ignoring me to agressive behavior towards me. I can see why they made that logical progression: it makes them feel superior, look tough in front of other peers, and they had the possibility of being noticed by the older kids and deemed "cool". When my sneakers got stolen off my feet one day by Clayton White while seven of his buddies held me down, Mom decided it would be best to change schools.

I went to a total of five schools during my time in elementary school. Every time I moved it was the same. For the first week or so I enjoyed a sort of celebrity since I was the new and different; people found me interesting. However, after a month, two months, when you're still different, then they turn on you.

It wasn't always with bullying. Well, the first couple schools it was. Black eyes, skined knees from being pushed onto hot pavement, this was all very common in the life of Ewan Jackson. Not to mention what they did with my books. Eventually Mom started looking for schools that had reputations for really buckling down and eliminating bullying, schools that didn't alow that sort of thing. By now I was more than aware of situation and also knew why it always happened. I still hoped though, I still assumed, against all odds, that the teachers I had talked to and my Mom had been right, that this school would be different. That I would have no problem making friends and everything would go merrily along. My mistake.

It started the same as the others. I got attention at the beginning, people were fascinated with the new kid. I was even labelled cool by a few people at first. But then the excitement wore off and they began to actually get to know me. Then slowly, slowly, they began the disassociation process. I was still different, I was still someone to be shunned, and as always, it was because the maturity gap was too big. I was too far ahead of these kids for us to make a connection, and it wasn't as if I didn't try. I was nice to the other kids, I joined in conversations, and shared stuff with them, and pretended to be interested in what the stuff they were interested in and all that crap parents tell you to do to make friends. None of it worked of course, just like it hadn't worked before. The difference was that now, there wasn't any bullying, at least no bullying under the definition that we usually understand bullying to be. There was no pushing, no shoving. No name calling or general verbal abuse. What they did was in many ways much more devastating. They completely ignored me. Which was what I wanted. I was left to my own little world without interferance. Everything was great. And yet I was completely alone.

George Bernard Shaw once said something that I never forgot. He said, "The most heinous crime a man can commit to another is not to hate him, but to be indifferent to him: There is the essence of inhumanity!" I'm not really sure why, but I know that's relavent. I know when the schools said they didn't have any bullying going on, they were wrong. And I know that I grew to hate my peers, and the world in general. They changed, different schools, different classes, but it was all the same. the same exclusevity, the same intolerance. The same condemnation no matter what I did.

It didn't help that this all took place in a school, a place that had long bereft me of any sort of satisfaction I had once felt from learning. The potential for new and exciting things quickly faded and the same routine, reviewing work, re-teaching work, building slightly on a concept over the course of a year, re-afirming and re-establishing every little thing for fear that it should be forgotton, which it generally was by the majority. Books became my only source of learning, and I delved into them completely. Before graduating grade four I had gotten ahold of textbooks from the rest of the elementary ciriculum in all subjects and had learned it all. This distanced me further from the throng, always knowing everything, always answering in an intelligent and well-though out manner. No matter what I refused to lower my intellect for their satisfaction. I wasn't a know-it-all or show-offy about it, at least I hope I wasn't. But it was there, snowballing with all these other factors and keeping me enternally isolated in school. Which was actually how I preferred it.

When I entered Jr High in grade six I thought maybe it would be like primary again, everyone new, everyone scared. Well, everyone was scared alright, a concept that I found rather ridiculus. I had been expecting a great change that would completely overthrow our concept of what school was like, but it was exactly the same! We had more teachers, but that was all that changed! You had the same peers with you all the time! You had a schedule which told you the classes you had, which was the same all the time! The work was the same all the time, and what's worse was nothing more than a review of the past six years drawn out over a year! The mediocrity was still there! The simplicity was still there! And the clicks were still there, which meant that the intolerence was also still there. People were scared, but that jsut drove them closer to the group of friends that they had grown up with from the various elementary schools that converged here. There was no room for anyone else, and the kids I had known the previous year continued to shun me, so again I was alone, trapped in the most pointless of school years with a class that acted as if it were actually going to be important for their academic records after high school! It's little wonder I was content not being friends with these snivelling insects. And little wonder that I remain content in my solitude, forced as it may be.

Looking over the rather lengthy chapter I have just written (I had originally intended it to be brief), I realize that it is somewhat self-contradictory, in fact very much so in some places. I didn't mean it to be confusing, but I hope you understand. The bottom line is that I have given up on having friends. I do not need friends, nor do I want friends. Of all the things I need in life, the thing I absolutely do not need is friends. I do not.

But I do.

Matt A

08-21-2005, 03:26 PM

Umm...just this once, I''m completely stumped for what to say. There were many things that I was expecting to see in the next chapter, and needless to say a history of Ewan's hate-hate relationship with his fellow students was not one of them. But I'm still glad it was done, 'cause at the very least I now know a lot more about Ewan than I did: okay, so I still don't like him much, but at least it's now a bit easier for me to understand why he acts in the way that he does. And why Sam means so much to him: I get the feeling that she'll come to be even more important now than she is already.

Based on what you said just now, I get the feeling that this story has only just begun. Which is good, 'cause that means yet more of your genius...and some highly ramped-up genius too. I likee the sound of that.;):anime::anime::anime:

Oh, and about my writing: I don't think it's all that hot, but everyone who reads it seems to disagree. Take that how you will.;):sweat::sweat::sweat:

-Matt A-

enigmatic_one

08-21-2005, 05:20 PM

This was a chapter that I'm still not sure I have in the right place. I stuck it here for now because it needed to happen before the next couple chapters and we haven't had a ton of expotition about Ewan for a while, so I thought it might be good here and keep the suspense up. It's still up for debate though and once I actually finish the first draft, it will all be reconcidered for sure. I did think it was important to spend a chapter delving more into his past, however, and there will be more of that in the future, i imagine. You are right about it just starting, I actually have up to chapter twenty finished at this time and I only see it as being somewhere between a third and half completed, so there is still a lot more, and potentially even more than I foresee it to be at this time. Then there's a whole sequel I have planned......:sweat:

I read a little bit of your latest Teen Titans fic, and although I'm not a huge TT fan myself, I myst say I was intrigued! I'm going to be busy/on vacation for the next two weeks or so but as soon as I get back I want to sit down and read the whole thing. I'll comment then.
It sure seems like there's a lot more traffic over at the World's Finest board.... makes me wonder if I sure change Ewan's name to Bruce and try to sell it as an elseworlds story.....

~Enigmatic One

enigmatic_one

08-21-2005, 05:23 PM

Chapter 17

"Just sit over there, Principal Oreon will be with you shortly." Ms. Turmoil was her usual bitter self as she directed me to a line of chairs that sat along the right wall of the administration room. She went back to sorting papers, looking purposely busy which was a relief because it meant I wouldn't have to feel awkward about making small talk, something I dreaded daily.

Sitting on the chair furthest to the right, it occured to me that I had never seen the administration room from the inside before today. It was a smallish room with a wide window on the wall facing into the lobby so that Ms. Turmoil could communicate to people outside with the discomfort of leaving her desk. Her desk was angled in such a way that she was facing this window, but she also faced the row of chairs that I was situated in. Her desk was quite messy, stacks of papers and envelopes in cluttered piles covered the suface. There was a tall organizational device, something like a miniature file cabinet, that had been completely defiled. With only one look at the thing I had determined that it was without a doubt the most unorganized thing I had ever seen. All manner of decorative magnets and gift shop trinkets clung to it from every angle in a managerie of discomfort and awkwardness. Pencils were sprawled across the desk, some sticking out from odd angles out of the bizarre jumble, and a computer sat within arms reach on a small table that seemed attached to the desk using chewed gum. I could see that Ms. Turmoil was nothing if not aptly named.

"Hey, how're you doing?"

I turned and looked to see a shaky, skinny boy now addressing me. I was two seats away from me and sat with his knees tightly together in front of him, vibrating in a static manner against the floor. He had spoken very quickly and had a slight twitch in the corner of his mouth.

"Hi." I said, trying to sound uninterested and boring. The kid was smaller then me in stature, but I guessed he was probably at least a couple years older than me.

"My name's Larynze, what's yours? Do you like the name Larynze? It's spelled with a 'y', real uncommon around here. I'm proud of it, think it's all unique and like. 'Though it can get kinda lame, like when nobody can't ever spell it and like. But you know, can't really complain. Not like it's Raoul or somthin' stupid like that. All the same, it aint no Bob or Fred." he said this all in one breath, his legs bouncing more fervently.

"Mhmm..." I felt that was an appropriate response, acknowledge I had heard but not draw myself any further into what threatened to be a conversation.

I looked around the rest of the area, it was a pretty stereotypical school room. The walls were adorned with various framed certificates and newpaper clippings mentioning the school. In the far corner was a plant that looked as if it hadn't been watered in weeks; Leaves were shrivelled around the edges and some had turned completely brown, barely hanging on to the hunched stalk. next to the plant was an oak door that led into the adjoining teachers' lounge. Another door took up the rest of the space on the wall the chairs were pressed against, this was the door that led to Principal Oreon's office. We didn't have a Vice-Principal at our school; If Oreon was not in for some reason, various teachers would pitch in to take care of the manditory Principal duties for the day.

"So what're you in here for? I got caught smoking outside during class, my teacher saw me out the window. I told 'em it was justa cigerette but they didn't beleive me or thought somethin' wasn't straight or somethin' and I ended up here. I was just lucky that it was during first class, normally it's so crowded I have to give someone a black eye if I wanna get my favorite chair here." he patted the identical plastic chair he sat on. "Some people might it's the same as the rest, but I know better. Blue aint the same as green, and let me tell ya somethin' I don't just go around tellin' anyone, ya ready? Whenever I sit in this here chair, the worst I ever get suspended fer is three months, and I'm still eligible to pass the course, most of the time. Course, I'd have to do some of the tests and like if I wanted to actually pass, so it's sort of a misleading thing to say. Still, they let me into the cafeteria whenever I want. They'd do anything for me down there. They just got this new guy, I don't even have to show him my gun and he'll give me whatever I want. I don't go hungry in this place. He even supplies me with a fresh catch of dope every now and then."

I looked vaguely around the room, trying to act as if I hadn't heard. I didn't want to be rude, but frankly, I was pretty sure this guy wasn't even remotely aware of his surroundings and he wasn't exactly someone I wanted to fraternize with. I wondered why I could possibley be here. I'd never done anything remotely against the rules. I wasn't in any clubs or commitees. And this wasn;t even like a message that someone called for me or something, the principal actually wanted to talk to me. I knew I couldn't be in trouble. But then why would she want to see me?

"You know, you look kinda like a young Pete Ross. Do you Pete Ross? Swell guy. Real good with the darts and like. I used to throw a mean dart, till my aim went a bit off and I accidentally like killed my cousin. Ah well, I didn't like him all too much anyhow. Wasn't like he woulda cried if I suddenly took a swim in the pond, ya know what I mean? And like I said, it doesn't matter when ya take the drop, as long as you drink a little sap before ya fall. That's what my Momma said before she died anyway, real swell woman my Ma. She once said that if she ever got off the alcohol she'd take us all out to a nice dinner at Burger King or somethin'. I wonder where she is right now. Proby som'ere nice like Bermuda or Alcopoca er somethin'. Might be a nice place to live, eh? No snow, no cold winter. And the weed there is real cheap. I knew a guy Jimmy who said he was there on vacation - they were given him frfee highs! It was like soup there! Yeah, if I had to move somewhere it'd be ol' Santo Malo fer sure."

A buzzer bleeped on Ms. Turmoil's desk. She looked at it, boredom seeping through her eyes, and then turned back to her papers.

"Principal Oreon will see you now." she said, not looking up from her desk.

I nodded thankfully and stood up to enter her office. Larynze continued talking as if I hadn't moved.

"...like I don't have enough to worry about with Loraine pregnant and like, but all the same I say to him 'Jerry, you have to do what you have to do and I have to do what I have to do" and then he didn't even say nothing, he just pushed me off the bridge, just like that...."

I knocked on the door, hessitantly. A female voice said "Come in!" and I opened the door, keeping my eyes to the floor. I had no idea what to expect behind this door and I didn't want to have to find out until it was absolutely necessary. I stepped inside, still looking at the ground. The tiles were different in here than they had been in the administration office, a more tangerine/turquoise colour scheme as opposed to the tan tinted squares of outside.

When I had come completely into the room I figured I had avoided looking directly at her long enough. I slowly brought my head to face her, observing the atmosphere of the room as I went. She had a very nice desk, probably an antique, I thought as my eyes averted upwards. The surface was neat and tidy, and her hands were folded on it (rarely a good sign, from what I've read). I closed my eyes for a split second before bringing my head fully errect to build the suspense and then opened them to finally gaze upon the principal.

She was smiling.

Matt A

08-22-2005, 06:12 AM

Well, that was weird. Larynze is without a doubt the most inventively insane character I have ever come across, especially 'cause his introduction made him seem like a shy, nervou kid rather than an A-grade nutjob. Which was a nice surprise, and has definitely made my morning. But I still don't know what Oreon wants with Ewan! Oh well, I guess I'll just have to wait...but if that means more story, then I'm cool.;):anime::anime::anime:

You are right about it just starting, I actually have up to chapter twenty finished at this time and I only see it as being somewhere between a third and half completed, so there is still a lot more, and potentially even more than I foresee it to be at this time. Then there's a whole sequel I have planned......:sweat:
Sounds cool!:anime::anime::anime:

I read a little bit of your latest Teen Titans fic, and although I'm not a huge TT fan myself, I myst say I was intrigued!
Thankyou very much!:anime::anime::anime::anime::anime:

But, seeing as my latest one is a sequal, I suggest you read the original first. It won't make much sense otherwise.;)

I'm going to be busy/on vacation for the next two weeks or so
Bugger.:crying::crying::crying::crying::crying:

It sure seems like there's a lot more traffic over at the World's Finest board.... makes me wonder if I sure change Ewan's name to Bruce and try to sell it as an elseworlds story.....
I wouldn't reccomend that. I'll see if I can get them to come to you instead.;)

-Matt A-

enigmatic_one

08-22-2005, 10:15 AM

Chapter 18

"Well, well, well, Mr. Jackson we meet at last." Principal Oreon was still smiling. Although comforting in a way, it was also slightly unnerving. What was it that I could possibley be here for the called for such good humour? "Please," she continued. "By all means, have a seat."

I stepped forward and sat down in a nice leather chair that sat facing her desk. It was quite comfortable and I couldn't help wondering if she always entertained guests with this sort of hospitality.

She smiled, seeing my amiable reaction to the chair. "Ah, I see it meets with your satisfaction. Excellent. I suppose you're somewhat curious as to why you've been summoned here."

I nodded, curteously. "Yes, I am, ma'am."

"Call me Principal Oreon." she said, and then laughed as if she had make a joke. "Well, I shall hold you in suspense no longer. Joking aside, this is actually quite a serious topic which requires discussing. I've already spoken to some lengths with your mother and she seemed to think it would be best for me to talk to you directly and see what you take on it all was."

I nodded again to show I was following her, but if anything I was even more confused than before.

"Mr. Jackson, do you recall taking a somewhat lengthy test in some of your courses, such as math and english, about a month ago?"

I nodded, I remembered them quite well. For about a week my class had been subjected to a test everyday, some on a specific subject like math, some just on general knowledge. One of them had even been set aside solely for vocabulary. Most of the class complained, finding them difficult because a lot of it hadn't been covered by the curiculem yet and they were lost. Teachers assured us that a lot of it we weren't expected to actually know and not to worry about, but the general concess remained that people didn't like being asked things they didn't know. Me, I was enraptured. It was the best week of school ever. Every day, I finished well before the deadline and was left with at least an hour of blissful reading time. I recalled wishing this could be what school was like every day. The tests weren't even that hard anyway. I don't imagine I completed each one perfectly (we were never informed of our marks, so I figured they had just been scraped due to overall poor results from the majority), but most of it was stuff I knew. Most of it was as simple as regular tests were, for that matter. Essentially, they remained a fond memory in the back of my mind but weren't expected to ever have proved any importance. It's probably the first time I was ever wrong about something school related.

Principal Oreon nodded with me, appearing to stall for time as if she wasn't exactly sure what to sy next. "Well, you see Mr. Jackson, those tests were not just arbitrary things given out for the fun of it. They were actually quite important. You see, they were all part of a rather complicated test designed to determine a person's intelligence quotient."

Ah, I thought, so they were IQ tests. I had heard of schools occassionally doing these randomly without children knowing for goverment records and such but I had never thought that they'd bother doing this kind of thing in a small town like Narninsville (that's where I live, I don't think I mentioned that before).

I waited for Principal Oreon to continue, but she seemed to be waiting expectantly for me so I nodded again and said "I see."

"Er, yes." she said, apparently she had expected me to say something else but I couldn't imagine what I could have said that would be apropriate. I alos couldn't imagine what it was that was causing her to become so flustered. "Well, you see, usually these things are all corrected and results recorded anonymously, but we do have to keep track of the names as well just in case, well, in case we need to check something or, well, well in case we run into an anomaly." she paused, looking at me again as if I should be saying something. Nothing came to mind so I remained silent, wishing she'd just say whatever it was that was taking her so long.

"You see," she began again. "When we were correcting the tests, we did come across an anomaly. You were the anomaly."

I still had no idea what she was trying to get across so I just nodded and when she still didn't continue, said "Ah."

"Yes." she said, seeming to relax a little bit. I realized that the ball was in my court and if I wanted more information it wasn't going to be devulged on its own.

"What exactly does that entail?" I asked, leaning forward in my chair in what I hoped appeared as an engaging gesture.

Principal Oreon sighed and leaned back in her chair, staring at the ceiling for a moment before looking in my eyes again. "Ewan, I'm going to be absolutely frank with you."

I nodded. "Please."

"Ewan," she paused as if still uncomfortable. "You're a genius."

She paused once more and I did the same, this was getting more confusing every second, and now it was slowly leaking into uncomfortable. I wasn't sure if she was complimenting me or if she meant it literally. "Sorry?" I asked hesitantly.

"You're a genius, Ewan. When we calculated your results, your IQ scored well above 140. Right now, you have the same aproximate intelligence as a fifth year university student."

My eyes widened and I finally understood. This was big. Very big. I had always known that I was smart, but fifth year university? It all made sense now, why she had been so slow to speak. Now it was my turn pause. How do you respond to that?

I looked at her again and in a second completely understood the look in her eye that had become even more apparent now that she had gotten it out in the open. The truth was, this was way more shocking for her than it was for me. I hadn't known it extended to this level, but I had always known I was smart. I had always known I was different than everyone else. I had just always assumed that other people, teachers especially, knew that too. Now I realized for the first time that this wasn't the case, that no one, not Pincipal Oreon, not my teachers, probably not even my mother had expected anything remotely like this. If they had, surely someone would have said something too me before. I took a breath and collected myself.

"So, er, so what do you want to do with me?" I asked, hoping frankness would continue to be the best way to go.

"Well," she said much more relaxed now, although still slightly tense, I sensed. "Basically where you go from here is up to you. That's essentially why I called you here. Normally, someone of your, er, high level of awareness would be immediently relocated to some sort of gifted school where you might be adequately challenged. However, this being a rather small town, there is no such establishment. The closest one is in Toronto, actually. We've been in contact with it and they'd be glad to accept you, however we thought the three hour drive to school everyday might not be in your best interests..." she paused and then continued when she saw that I agreed with this last statement. "However, we have determined that something should be done for you and so we've brainstormed quite a bit to try to come up with some options for you to think over. I'd be delighted to go over them for you now, but if you'd rather wait until you've had time to really let this all sink in, I completely understand."

I nodded and gestured for her to procede. I had never been one to delay things for a later time.

"Very well," she moved her arms across the desk, apparently stretching, although it seemed to me that she had exposed a piece of paper that she then glanced at frequently throughout the next segment of our conversation. "Well, the simplest thing - not that we're trying to resolve this easily, I just want you to know your options - the simplest thing would be for you to just continue normally in your classes as if you this conversation hadn't happened and it doesn't have to effect you at all. The school board would hate to interfere with your happiness at school just because you are particularly, er, gifted."

I almost laughed, the school board dared assume I was happy at school? "That won't be necessary." I said, still trying to keep a straight face. "I assure you that no manner of happiness is in jeopardy regarding this subject."

"Very well then," I couldn't tell whether she was surprised or had expected this. It doesn't really matter but I noted that her emotions weren't always completely readable. "The second option you have then is to continue essentially as you've been, however we will be intervening and provide you with enriched work."

"No thank you." I said immediently. I had had experienced this so called enrichment several times before throughout elementary.

There are two kinds of "enriched work": The first consists of being handed work papers and or a textbook from a higher grade and being expected to complete the work, usually on your own time/at home, as well as the curriculum stuff. This is a futile system because it is not enriching, it is merely adding more work, and is complicated again later when you reach the higher grade and have already completed all the work. The second is a system that essentially rewards getting your boring dismal work done quickly by giving you more boring dismal work, work that you know no one else is having to do which makes the whole process even more irrelevant and degrading. It is also not enrichment, it is merely added work, this time insulting the intelligence of the enrich-ee instead of encouraging it to further (the implication is that the enrich-ee has to do more of the same work that others don't because he/she requires more practise). Niether can be rationally concidered enrichment and I was not interested in subjecting myself to either method again. I'd rather do the regular boring dismal stuff and read if I finish then take on additional equally pointless work. I told Principal Oreon this. Not as blatently, of course.

"The last thing we're concidering, and based on your objections I think you might find this apealing, is skipping you ahead a grade."

My ears perked up. She had my complete and total attention.

Matt A

08-22-2005, 04:14 PM

enigmatic_one

08-22-2005, 06:42 PM

Well, well, well...now that was a nice surprise! Like Ewan himself, it wasn't as if I didn't know he was clever, but being officially labelled as such was a bit above and beyond what I was thinking. And also a bit obscure: I mean, of all the plot twists you could have sprung on us at that point, the one you chose wasn't one I was ever going to expect. Which is good, for obvious reasons.;):anime::anime::anime:

Ewan's mick-taking of the school system was as funny as ever - I've had to do the whole "enriched work" thing once or twice myself, so I know where he's coming from on this one - and as a nice little thought to end on...isn't Sam a year older than him?:p

So, yeah, good work. Befitting of a genius, I think.;):anime::anime::anime:

-Matt A-
It's funny, every time I try to give this story a plot that I can say "This is the plot" with, I realize that something later is really much more inportant and takes precedence over whatever the last subplot I concidered the top dog. Now I'm starting to think that his skipping the grade is really the main plot, although I'm really torn because the Drofloc plot is really moreso important I think. But then there's the Sam plot..... Urgh. Sort of makes my head ache. I think maybe it would be best to say that Ewan skipping a grade may be the turning point of the book, a lot of things are going to change soon. But then really, Drofloc was the first thing that started this avalanche of change, so maybe he's the turning point? And thus we enter the paradox once again. I suppose none of it's really important, the point is for it to be entertaining which apparently it is, so I am glad. Very astute observation, by the way, Sam is a year older than him. I was glad you picked that up. Also I'm glad you can relate with the whole "enriched work" scene, I was worried that might just be my own highly concieted and biased memories. ;) I'll try to post up to chapter 20 by tomorrow but then I'm going to be amis from the computer for about a week and a half and probably won't get the chance to write anything more or consequently post it.

~Enigmatic One

enigmatic_one

08-22-2005, 06:46 PM

Chapter 19

"Sk-skipping a grade?" I repeated, almost choking on the word. "I thought that didn't happen anymore."

Principal Oreon nodded gravely. "Yes, it has been generally discouraged by the school board of late. I don't think anyone's been skipped for... Six years now, I think it is. However, they have been known to make exceptions in special cases and, well, we think this qualifies as a special case. Because of your exceptional learning capabilities, the school board has allowed me the power to put you ahead a grade, or perhaps even two, if I felt it would be in your best interests. I told you before that I am letting you decide your own fate in this instance, so the choice is yours."

I couldn't believe it, how many times had I longed that such a possibility could exist! Countless times I had lain awake in bed, unable to sleep, dwelling on my miseries at school and wishing the school board still sanctioned skipping. I had done extensive research on the subject. Principal Oreon had been right, the last skip had been six years ago. Six years, two months and seventeen days ago, to be exact; A girl named Breagh Norman. She had had reasonabley decent marks, sure, but I knew I did much better and probably had a more well rounded personality than her. Most smart typed are so preppy, taking school so seriously and devoting their entire life to it. I couldn't care less but I still came out miles ahead of everyone in my class. I remembered being so mad when I first found out about her. If she could skip why on earth couldn't I? That was a more lenient time, of course, when skipping was still fairly common.

"You mean, you mean they would make an exception for me?" I was really having a hard time completely grasping this incredible revelation. "An exception for me? And two grades?"

"Well, we'd start you off with one of course." she said quickly, as if not wanting me to jump to any conclusions. "But then after you've had time to ajust to it and see how you feel about it, we might concider moving you up again in you feel it necessary."

I couldn't imagine possibley liking grade nine so much that I'd pass up the opportunity to get ahead again, but I could see it was a logical way to go about it. As long as I'd still have the option, it was all good.

I'm sure by now you have a good enough idea of my views on school that you can see why skipping grades would be the one thing that would make it better, hence why I was so excited. I had always felt that thirteen years was much more time than was even remotely necessary to teach all the material that was supposed to be covered before university. I had already suffered through the entirety of elementary, a redundancy in itself, but five more years? I wasn't sure if I'd have been able to make it. Now, I wouldn't have to.

We spent the next twenty minutes hammering out the details. There were a lot of forms I had to fill out, papers I had to sign, and papers I had to bring home to have my mother sign. The plan was that I would finish the week off in grade eight (it was already Thursday) and then start grade nine on Monday morning. I couldn't wait.

After a friendly but polite good-bye and the promise that I wouldn't publicize any of this until it was absolutely necessary, I stepped out of the office back into the administration room. Larynze had apparently left and the only person in the room was Ms. Turmoil.

"You look surpisingly upbeat." she said, looking up at me for what seemed like the first time.

I just smiled knowingly, opting to be enigmatic. Principal Oreon had said not to tell anyone, after all. I looked at the clock, it was ten twenty. Blast, I had missed the end of Mr. Drofloc's class. Hopefully he would be there again tomorrow, on my last day of grade eight. I sighed, letting it really sink in.

I had english now and so I walked down the largely empty halls, not rushing since I did have a legitimate excuse for being late. I looked around, for the first time apreciating the goldenrod hue of the walls in the hallway. It was actually quite homey. It occured to me that this was the first time I had ever been intentionally happy when in a school. It was kind of nice, really. I was going to skip a grade! My mood wasn't even hurt when a tall, goth looking guy blew smoke in my face as I passed the boy's washroom. I doubted even a puppet show with Mr. Young would bring me down!

One thing that did puzzle me was Principal Oreon's request for secrecy. It seemed odd to specifically not want people to know when they'd have to know within a couple days anyway. It wasn't a problem or anything, I was just curious. It wasn't like there was anyone whom I'd want to tell anyway. Except maybe Sam. Sam! I wondered desperately if maybe I would be in the same class as her in grade nine. I took out the schedule of my grade nine classes that Oreon had given me, the class number was at the top of the sheet. I sighed when I saw it was 9-TI, knowing that Sam was in 9-MT (the letters were the homeroom teacher's initials).

While disappointed, I couldn't help feeling curious now that I had the schedule out. I hadn't had time to look at it carefully when Oreon had given it to me, but now in the hall I had time and I was very curious as to which teachers I would have. My excitement was quickly brought back when I saw that I no longer had Mr. Young! That meant that this would be my last class with him ever! I looked back at the paper. I had Ms. Gweneth still, and Miss Enriquoisette who "taught" all the french classes. A new social studies teacher though, and a new health. My gym teacher was the same too. That accounted for everyone. I put the sheet back in my schoolbag.

Then I remembered math. I stopped and took the sheet out again praying desperately that this miracle would include the exemption of Mr. Illuvitar from my life. Unfortunately I was in for no such luck. Far from it in fact. I was frozen with horror and disgust when I discovered that not only was Mr. Illuvitar still my math teacher, he was also my homeroom teacher. After a moment I allowed myself to breath again. Yes, it would be terrible to have extended periods with the man who hated life and us so much, but at least I could find some consilation in the knowledge that my time in grade nine would be short lived and it wouldn't be long before I found myself in grade ten, and a completely new school.

I arrived at Mr. Young's class and knocked twice, which was met with a jubulent "Come in, come in!" from inside. I let myself in and handed an initialed excuse note from the Prinicpal to the beaming professor who stood before me. He nodded enthusiastically and pocketed the note.

"That's fine, Ewan. C'mon in! We were just watching a video on proper punctuation procedures. Hey! P, p, p! Do you know what that's called boys and girls? That's right! Illiteration!"

Luckily the class passed quickly. The video, a twenty minute feature featuring talking chipmunks who looked oddly like a human hand, was elementary stuff but it didn't bother me for once. All I could think about was this was the last Young class! I took out my new schedule again to check who would be teaching me english on Monday and almost laughed out loud when I saw who. How ironic. My new english teacher's name: Mr. Olde. I could only hope that meant he treated us like we were older than we actually were.

The rest of my classes that day passed quickly too. Science consisted of Ms. Gweneth giving us a very detailed account of how she and Jeff had reconciled and were now happily living together again (thankfully she had the dignity not to answer when a boy asked excitedly "Did you do it?", but unfortunately a knowing smile that followed told me much more than I had needed to know). French was actually "challenging" (by Miss Enriquoisette standards) in that we actually had to complete a word search (colouring in the words as we found them of course) of the basic form "er" verbs. And finally, the afternoon ran by in a double gym period.

You're probably expecting me to say that gym was my least favorite subject and the only one I ever made bad marks in and it's so stupid and shouldn't be a school subject and blah blah blah, and if I was someone like Breagh Norman than I probably would. However I am not like Breagh Norman and concider myself much more well rounded than the average prep. As I already told you, I was pretty good at running which kept me fit, and I got more or less the same kind of marks in gym that I got in other subjects. I wasn't a jock or anything that drastic, but I pulled off a 95 consistantly. Mr. Clean (I'm not kidding, that's his real name) had been my gym teacher thus far and it looked like I'd continue to have him. He wasn't a bad guy. He worked us hard, but he was fair in his marks and he managed to keep an eye on everyone. He was only slightly biased towards students who were on a sports team too, which is more than I can say for most gym teachers I've had. Today we played soccer baseball (we were able to go outside because it was still reasonabley warm and the snow hadn't kicked in yet), and like I said the time passed quickly.

In light of the exciting grade change, I still hadn't forgotten about Mr. Drofloc and I still lamented missing the end of his class this morning. However, by the time gym class had finished I had figured out a plan.

As soon as the end day bell rang I quickly marched straight for Mr. Illuvitar's room and luckily caught Mr. Drofloc just as he was locking the door.

"Ah, Ewan. Good afternoon! What brings you here this late in the day, I'd have thought you'd be half way home by now." he greeted me with his usual welcoming smile and cordiality.

"Well, Sir," I began, trying to be equally pleasant. "First of all I wanted to apologise for missing the end of your class and taking so long to get back to you."

"Oh, think nothing of it," he said brushing it off with a hand gesture. "I completely understand, and by the way congradulations on getting moved up a grade! You must be very happy!"

I was shocked, how could he have possibley known? I hadn't told anyone! Was this a sign that he was in fact me and knew what was happening in my life? "How..." I began, but he cut me off before I could finish.

"Did I know?" he smiled. "Oh come now, Ewan, don't be so niave! The entire school has been buzzing about it! Did you really expect it to be kept secret? Why, this is the first time anyone's been skipped ahead a grade since Breagh Norman, if I'm not mistaken. I know we don't really know each other terribley well, but I want you to know that I'm very proud. You must be quite an anomaly if they're lifting the protocals for you after all these years."

I was speechless. Not just because I was surprised the information had circulated into the school already (it did explain why I had the feeling people were staring at me more than usual in later classes), but because for some reason I was actually very touched. I couldn't explain it, but the fact that this almost stranger was proud of me was very emotionally stimulating. "Thank-you" I said after what felt like but I hoped wasn't really an extraordinary pause. He smiled again and niether spoke for a moment.

"Was there a second?" he asked finally.

"What?" I asked, not sure what he meant.

He quoted me "'First of all, I wanted to apologise..."

"Oh, oh, yes!" I said, flustered. "I just wanted to know if there was any homework."

He looked me up and down before answering. "Well, there was just some little thing, a sheet or something, but tell you what, you've had an exciting day, only one more day in grade eight anyway, what do you say I give you the night off. Don't worry about the homework. You know the stuff anyway."

I smiled, very grateful for his waiving the work. I had a lot from other classes anyway. "Thank-you, again."

He smiled, "Any time."

"Are you going to be around tomorrow?" I asked hopefully.

"Alas, no. I fear that Mr. Illuvitar called in informing me that his return would take place tomorrow. I'll be back before too long though. I'm sure I'll see you again soon." It may have been my imagination, but I could have swore I saw some sort of twinkle in his eye as he said that last part.

"Alright, then" I said ignoring it. "See you later then, sir."

"Ciao" he said. And we went our seperate ways down the hall.

Today was yet another day to run home, I decided. I had said I wouldn't tell anyone the secret, but if Sam had already heard about it then there would certainly be no harm in discussing it with her. And if she hadn't, it would be nice to talk with her anyway. I rarely got her two days in a row, but maybe. If she had heard and wanted to talk with me...

As I reached the end of my street I slowed to a fast walk. That's funny... I thought as my house came into clear view. It looked as if the window in my room was open, but that couldn't be. I never opened my window, now in the winter certainly. And Mom wouldn't have opened it. I wouldn't have thought so anyway. Especially with her at work all day. I ventured closer and saw that it was indeed open and what's more, the light was on. I never, never, never forget to turn off the light when I leave a room. It's one of my pet peeves. Something definately wasn't right here.

I opened the front door very slowly and quietly made my way through the house towards my room. I had made it all the way to the kitchen without a peep when suddenly the silence was broken by a deep, male voice.

"Take me down to the river, and put me in that old for goodness water..." I had triggered the motion sensor on the joke singing fish that hung just around the corner between the kitchen and my room. Through the music I suddenly heard a noise from my room. I wasn't sure ifit was a grunt or a pice of furniture moving, but someone was definately in my room! Throwing all caution into the wind now, I ran passed the crooning carp and flung open the door to my bedroom. I was just in time to see a figure clothed all in black darting out my open window. I rushed to the glass to try to determine where he was going, but the second I got there he disappeared behind a neighbouring house. I knew it would be futile to try to chase afetr him, and he might have even been armed so I concidered myself lucky.

I breathed slowly, trying to calm down my heart. When I felt my wits return, I quickly turned to witness the condition of my room and determine what had been stolen. The room appeared exactly the same as I had left it this morning. The computer was there, all my books were there. Quickly I rooted through my drawers and file cabinent, making sure my small staches of money were all still accounted for. They were. Everything was just as I had left it. Even my bed was still made. Everything clean, everything perfect, everything the way I liked it. Except for one thing. Besides the open window there was one other difference in the room, the only evidence that I had not imagined the entire event. A soft humming gave it away.

My computer was on.

Matt A

08-22-2005, 07:32 PM

Okay, now I'm really confused. What in the merry heck was the deal with the break-in? Why were they using the computer, but didn't bother with anything else? What's Ewan got on there? How do Drofloc and grade-jumping tie into this, if they tie into it at all? I honestly have no answers to any of those questons, which is why I'm not happy that I may have to wait for anything up to two weeks before I get them. I like mystery, but I don't like to be kept waiting.;):(

But hey, I hope you enjoy your holiday or whatever it is you're going to be doing, and if it feed your creativity any further, then all to the better. Not that your creativity seems to be going hungry, anyway...;):anime::anime::anime:

-Matt A-

enigmatic_one

08-22-2005, 07:52 PM

OKay, this next chapter will hopefully start to answer some of your questions (or at least give you some clue...) but more questions may result from the answers, so you may not like them. It's probably going to be the last chapter for a week or so, it's the last chapter written at this moment but I'm hoping I might write another one between tonight and tomorrow morning. If so, you're in luck. If not, no garantees until September 5th. I do expect my creativity to flourish however, so there may be a small surplus of chapters once I return. Until then, feel free to speculate all you want, there's a little treat at the end of this chapter that will probably be somewhat infuriating but on the other hand you might get it right away. It's sort of the key to the rest of Ewan's journey, in a lot of ways.

~Enigmatic One

enigmatic_one

08-22-2005, 07:55 PM

Chapter 20

I turned the monitor on, which evidentally had just been turned off in a weak attempt to camaflage the fact the the machine was still running. Within a second, the window faded in from black to the famillier desktop of black. Open on the screen was a single window: The file where my computer automatically saves all the conversations I have with Sam.

Rows and rows of icons decked the screen, each representing the transcript of a conversation I'd had with Sam over the past year (many of these transcripts consisted of a single "Hey" or "Hiya" on my part). I scrolled up and down frantically, hoping one of the icons would still be highlighted, giving me a clue of what the mysterious figure had been reading. I stopped and thought about what I had just thought. Someone had broken into my room, not stolen anything, not touched anything except my computer, and apparently rooted through my records of the conversations I had with Sam. It was completely bizarre. If I hadn't known any better, I'd have thought I'd imagined the whole incident. Why would someone go to that much trouble to find out what I was saying to my only friend? Well, if you could call Sam a friend. I mean she's definately the closest thing I have to one, and I concider her a friend, but we're not really friends in the usual sense. Sometimes, I wonder if she really conciders me a friend. We talk, not as often as I'd like, on Messenger, but we don't, like, hang out on th eweekends or anything. Our conversation in school the day before had been one of the only times we actually talked in person. I guess I don't really know what she is. I just know she's perfect.

I decided to wait until Mom got home before I took any action that might be concidered rash. She wouldn't get off work until eight, which was a long time to wait before calling the police, but I figured it would be best to wait and see what she thought. Besides, I had no idea what I would tell the police anyway. I couldn't really press changes for not stealing anything, and I had no idea who the masked person could be anyway. I didn't even know if it was male or female. There was also the question of how he/she got in. There was no sign of forced entry anywhere, and I know my window had been locked. I never open it.

Mom got in promptly at eight thirty-two. She usually works late, eight thirty-two being an early day for her. Often she's not back until close to ten or even eleven. I told her about the whole incident and while she was worried at first, when she found out he/she had left as soon as they knew I was there and nothing had apparently been touched she calmed down a bit. She actually seemed slightly annoyed, but that may just have been because she was tired. I tried to stress that my computer had been turned on and looked through, but she was less than grief stricken about it.

"Are you sure you didn't just leave it on before going to school today?" she asked in a strained voice.

"Yes. And even if I did you would have turned it off after I left, you know how you feel about wasting electricity." I was certain it had not been left on!

"Well I might have missed it, I left pretty soon after you did. Just let me know if anything else happens like this again." It was clear that calling the police would not be necessary.

I tried messaging Sam. I didn't think I'd tell her about my mysterious visitor, but I did want to know if she'd heard about my "promotion" yet.

EwanJackson says:

Hello

I waited five minutes without an answer before I gave up and turned off the computer. I lay on my bed, thinking about everything that had happened today. Mr. Drofloc's mysterious meeting, my meeting with Principal Oreon, the break-in.... The day almost seemed surreal, so much had taken place. So much that was out of the normal ruitine. That made me smile, despite my frustration over having so many questions I wanted answered.

I paid for those questions that night, as 2 AM rolled around and they were still circulating through my mind. Over and over again the small piece of conversation I had heard played back, as I tried desperately to fall asleep. "Just be careful, you never know what you c..." the woman's voice was actually sort of soothing, but sleep would not fall upon me. I wondered, despite of myself, what she would have said if Mr. Drofloc had not interrupted her. The "c" was hard, that is, it was a hard c, not that it was difficult. Although, it was difficult actually. There were any number of things it could be. "Could"? Could would work, but it didn't really help me figure out why she was there. She had definately been worried about something. Drofloc seemed less so, as if whatever it was she was trying to get across to him wasn't important. I still couldn't figure out their relationship either. Maybe she was his girlfriend, but she could just as easily be his sister. I didn't have a sister though. Maybe they didn't even have that close of a relationship. If he really is me, maybe in the future time travel is a common occurance. Maybe she was from a branch of the goverment checking up on him to make sure he wasn't changing anything. I wondered if they had figured out that you couldn't change anything because time is constant. I knew if I was Drofloc, I would know about it. Maybe that's why he was so relaxed.

I looked at the clock again, it was quarter to three. It suddenly occured to me that sleeping was just the absence of thought. All through the day, no matter what you're doing, there's this little voice in your head that's always talking. You can be talking or reading, but it's still constantly going. Yet when you're sleeping, there is no voice. There's nothing. Well, dreams, but that's another voice entirely. So really, the secret to falling asleep is getting that little voice to shut up. If only I knew how to do that.

I thought about the stranger in my room again. I had barely caught a glimpse of him/her but I knew I had seen them. There was definately someone in my room. And they had definately been on my computer. I tried to bring up the exact image of the figure I had seen. The had been clad completely in black with a black ski mask on. In truth, they looked a little like a ninja. It had been a fairly slim person, a little taller than me. I wish I had at least been able to determine its sex.

The whole thing didn't make sense. Of all the things to break into a house for, to read my conversations?And in broad daylight? This was a very risky plan for a completely illogical goal. Only someone who knew me personally would be interested in something like that, and I knew surprisingly few people. Of those even fewer would be able to navigate my computer well enough to find the folder. I have a complicated filing system on my computer that I designed myself, whoever it was had to know exactly what they were looking for and even then it would have been very difficult to find.

A shadow of an idea crossed my mind: What if it was Mr. Drofloc? What if he needed information about something in the past? Something to help him do whatever it was that he was here to do? What if... I stopped in mid thought. He couldn't be the one in my room, I had been talking to him minutes before in his classroom. Even if he had somehow gotten ahold of a vehicle (I remembered that he had walked to school), he couldn't have gotten home more than a minute sooner than I had. I had run after all. Plus he would have needed to change.

The last time I checked the clock before I finally fell asleep, it was three thirty. Soon after that I drifted off.

I had a dream that night. I remembered it specifically because, with the exception of my book dreams, I don't have dreams terribley often. Even less often do I remember them, but this was an exception. When I woke up at seven the next morning, drenched in a cold sweat, I remembered everything in vivid detail.

It started on a road. I was alone, walking down a long, straight road. I was the only thing on the road, the only thing moving that I could see. Houses lined each side of the road and they were all identical, the same roof, the same garage, the same greyish hue to the siding. I seemed to be going up a hill, but the horizon was always the same distance away and I could never see beyond it. Then suddenly, nine dogs ran towards me from beyond the horizon. They carried me upon their backs, running faster and faster until they breached the horizon and I could see beyond! There was a flambuoyant mansion! It sparkled with vibrant colours and it looked as if hundreds of gems were engraved upon the magnificient structure. The dogs carried me through the gates until I was deep inside the walls of the mansion and I played with the dogs. Then a masked figure darted across the hall. As happy as I was playing with the dogs, I had to follow the figure. I chased him through the many halls of the mansion until finally I was outside again in the courtyard. The shadowed person stopped and turned towards me and I saw that it was me. Then the dogs came out and stopped, seeing the other me as well. Then the rushed forward and attacked it, ripping it apart as I stood watching, unable to do anything. And I turned to glance back at the mansion, and I saw that it was made of glass, and the splendor had been an illusion reflected off the sun. And now I could see right though it, and it was empty. Then I turned my back on the dogs and cried. And then I woke up.

Matt A

08-23-2005, 05:12 AM

Um...didn't get that one. At all.:confused::confused::crying::crying::confused::confused:

So, yeah, I'm as confused as ever. All that chapter told us was what couldn't have been, but that still leaves us with a lot of options. To be honest, there could be a lot more people interested in Ewan than he thinks, including people we haven't even been introduced to yet, so it's not as if anything's been narrowed down at all. You said there were hints, but I didn't see them...not even the dream, which I've got no clue what to do with. As I said, I'm confused, and the prospect of being without answers for over a week doesn't exactly fill me with joy. But at least you'll have a reader waiting for you when you get back...;):anime::anime::anime:

-Matt A-

enigmatic_one

08-23-2005, 08:25 AM

I'm really pushing hard to get another chapter written before I leave today. So far it's looking good - almost a quarter done. I'm not quite sure where I'm going with it yet but I'll try to be somewhat helpful in answering anything I can at this point. Which isn't much. I think it'll be much more interesting when you do find out though rather than trying to rush through certain parts. As for the hints, keep this chapter in mind for review later because there are some things thta don't really seem important now that'll be really obvious after other things happen, I think. The dream for instance, should be very obvious after the book is finished. I hope anyway. Although perhaps it works best just being mysterious. Ah well, we shall see. I'm off to write more now.

~Enigmatic One

Matt A

08-23-2005, 01:40 PM

Well, as long as it all makes sense eventually, I don't mind.:shrug:

-Matt A-

enigmatic_one

08-23-2005, 02:52 PM

Eventually may be some time away, but it will come don't worry. A lot of it is very subtle so you have to be awake when you're reading, but soon you should be able to figure it out I think. You oculd now, theoretically, but there's very little pointing to it so you have to sort of think outside the box for now anyway. Keep in mind that we're only aprox. one third into the story, so there's lots more time for things to make sense.

On that note, here's chapter 21, last one for a while I believe. I'll check in if I manage to grasp internet access while away.

~Enigmatic One

enigmatic_one

08-23-2005, 03:07 PM

Chapter 21

"Class, I'd like you all to give a warm welcome to the newest member of your class, Ewan Jackson!" I was greeted by my new classmates with an enthusiastic round of applause. From the front of the class, where I was now standing with my Principal Oreon, I could survey the whole room with ease. Everyone was looking at me and everyone looked very excited. I wasn't exactly sure why.

Principal Oreon waited for the applause and cheering to die down, during which time she slipped a sly glance at me; I was still wearing my flawless poker-face. She had deemed it necessary for her to accompany me to my first class in grade nine so she could explain the situation to my fellow classmates. This had proved most unnecessary.

My last day in grade eight had passed extraordinarily fast, but in that time it seemed that everyone in the school had heard the rumour that for the first time in years, a student would be skipping ahead a grade. The news was everywhere, in the halls, in the cafeteria, even in the teacher's room from what I could extrapolate. Not everyone knew who it was that was being skipped, but my name came up very often and after four classes of constant prying, it was eventually confirmed by myself. Luckily after that I was less of an object for interigation, as human nature demanded that the students find out only enough to allow themselves complete creative control over the forging of rumours. So while I was almost constantly the object of people's attention, I was rarely spoken to directly which gave me a surprisingly relaxed afternoon.

Over the weekend, it seemed the hype had only intensified to the point that I was now being greeted by a standing ovation! While completely unexpected and highly irregular, it was also somewhat satisfying. For a moment, I almost slipped and started to smile. Then I remembered that I was in school and could never be seen with such a compromising gesture blackening my face.

Ms. Gweneth, who also taught grade nine science was sitting hunched over in her desk. It was unclear whether she was crying, asleep, or hung over. Either of the three were likely.

"I'm sure you'll extend every courtesy to him and treat him as if he had always been part of your class. I know he wishes he could have been." Principal Oreon looked around again at all the smiling faces and then glanced at me to make sure I'd be okay, something I'm sure she was convinced of. I was starting to be convinced myself. "Now, Ms. Gweneth, er, Ms. Gweneth?" she said the name louder which triggered Ms. Gweneth to sit up suddenly with a jolt.

"The pizza's in the cupboard!" she said quickly, her eyes slightly crossed.

"Ms. Gweneth, everything appears to be in order." said Principal Oreon. "I'll leave you to find a place for Ewan to sit. That will be all." Ms. Gweneth nodded sleepily and Oreon nodded, seemingly satisfied, before leaving the room. When the door closed, everything was silent for a moment.

"He can sit over here." came a casual sounding voice from near the back. Several similar, but slightly more desperate sounding cries came from various locations around the room in a cacophany of requests.

"Silence!" said Ms. Gweneth standing up, she still sounded groggy and now visible runny mascera evidenced that she had indeed been crying already this morning. "Ewan, sit next to Minzy." she pointed vaguely towards the back of the room.

I followed the line of the finger to the back of the room and found myself looking at a rather attractive redhead. She was leaning back in her desk with her legs crossed in front of her. She seemed very relaxed, not really caring that she was even here, and yet she was looking at me with a trace of estranged fascination. her eyes were quie intriguing. There was an empty desk next to her which I found myself relocating into.

"Hi," she said, once I'd situated myself in the new desk. "I'm Minzy." I realized that hers was the voice that had first called out about the seat vacancy.

"I'm Ewan." I said, trying to be conversational.

"I know." she said. Ms. Gweneth seemed to have broken into tears at the front of the class and was wailing about, it seemed, how Jeff had once again dumped her, and then Bobby, whom she had met later that day, turned out to be a transvestite, which was something of a deterrent to their relationship. This, it seemed, had momentarily at least taken the attention off of me and so I knew Minzy and I could talk in moderate privacy.

"So I suppose it's true, huh?" said Minzy, still reclined in her desk.

"What do you mean?" I asked, quite puzzled.

"You really skipped here from grade eight?"

"Yeah." I said, hoping I wouldn't be patronized because I was younger. Intead she only nodded slowly.

"Cool."

"Yeah." I hoped this conversation would lead somewhere more interesting than "yeah" and "cool".

"So what are my other new teachers like?" I asked, hoping to revitalize the conversation.

"Well which ones are new?" she asked, sitting forward in her desk for the first time.

"I've had Gweneth, Enriquoisette, Clean, and Illuvitar before..."

She nodded. "So that means Mr. Olde is new; That's english. He's not bad, really. Unless you're really big on english, then you'll probably find it boring as heck. Then there's Mr. Circe, he's social studies. He always smells like pork, which isn't really a good thing. He's a decent teacher though I guess. The only other new one would be Mr. E."

"Mr. E?" I asked.

"Yeah, he's a mystery. Doesn't speak much in class. No one really knows anything about him, although he's got a stack of rumours about him, everything from people swearing he used to be an undercover agent in South America to accounts that he's actually Andy Kaufman."

I nodded. She hadn't really told me anything important, but it was still stuff that was probably good to know. I had Mr. Circe that afternoon but then I wouldn't have any new classes until Wednesday.

"What is this class like academically?" I asked, curious as to how hard the work would actually be.

"You mean like grades?" she asked. I nodded. "Well, you know how every grade level has one class where they stick all the smarties?"

I nodded. "Is this it?"

"Nope," Minzy leaned back again. "But we're the class right under it. So you know, about average I guess." she appeared to close her eyes, but I got the feeling she still had them slightly open.

I nodded again. "So then what does..."

A loud crash permated my thought. Ms. Gweneth had apparently fallen over in a dead faint. This was not terribley uncommon for her and all of her students knew from experience that the best thing to do in such a circumstance was to simpley let her be to wake up at her own convenience. However, now that their source of moderate entertainment had ceased, I once again became an item of everyone's attention, and curiousity.

Questions bombarded me from each side.

"How old are you?"

"Did you really skip a grade?"

"What are you, like, really smart or something?"

Some were similar to what Minzy had already asked me, but there were other more obscure wonderings.

"Do you listen to 'Flagrant Death'?"

"What type of milkshakes do you drink?"

"Are you a Wilma or a Betty man?"

I spent the rest of the class submitting myself to question after question until at last it seemed these enthusiastic kids had found out more about me than I've included even in this book. The cheerfulness was kept up through all of it, as was the almost deperate atmosphere as the students clamoured to fin out everything about me.

After an intense fourty six minutes of questions and answers, the bell signalling the end of class was something of a relief. I was glad All my classes consisted of the same students, so hopefully this would be a one time only occurance. I had to admit, however, the attention was enticing.

In the hallways, things seemed to move in slow motion. The usual streamline effect that bustled me and every other student along before depositing us at our next classes seemed dulled, and with every step I had time to observe the dozens of teenagers everywhere stealing glances or just straight out staring at me as we passed in the corridor.

While the apparent celebrity I had achieved was nice, and highly preferable to being ignored/beaten up, it would take a while to get used to all the stares if it continued as heavily as it had thus far. I doubted it would though, in fact I was willing to bet that I would be old news by the time second class was over.

The sight of a famillier smile and shining raven hair made me smile, I hadn't seen Sam since hearing the news about skipping and I was eager for our daily exchange of greetings. She was still a few meters away from me but approaching quickly, I realized that the halls were just as busy as they always were. I guess it's all really about perception. I thought to myself. I made eye contact and opened my mouth in preparation to make the salutation I looked forward to so much, but paused when I realized where she was headed. She was not continuing straight ahead as she always did for fear of being late for her next class, but in fact deviating straight for me. Before I could properly process this and react accordingly, she was right in front of me. I opened my mouth again to say something but I stuttered for a moment, taken by surprised, and in that second I ran out of time as she continued to approach me.

Sam threw her arms around me in a tight hug. "Ewan!"

Matt A

08-23-2005, 06:31 PM

No answers, but more than enough comedy to make up for it. Ewan's enthusiatic reception was a very unexpected thing, and the sheer oddness of it only made it funnier. The off-the-wall questions - ah, you just gotta love sexualised Flintstones references! - and Gweneth being even more of a legendary loser than usual were just the icing on the sweet, sweet cake, which is fine by me. Actually, no, I think the icing belongs to Sam and Mintzy, who I sense may well become rivals for Ewan's attention...or at least in his own mind, anyway. Either way, I imagine that some sort of excrement will soon be hitting some sort of fan, and I'm looking forward to that prospect a lot.;):anime::anime::evil::evil:

So, that was as good a job as ever...and I'll just have to wait until you get back before I see any more genius. I hope you enjoy wherever it is you're going!:anime::anime::anime:

-Matt A-

enigmatic_one

09-04-2005, 10:54 PM

Chapter 22

"Sam!" I sputtered, momentarily forgetting her name. This had taken me completely aback.

She released me from the embrace and just stared at me for a second, beaming. It was the happiest I had ever been. "I just want you to know how proud I am! You really deserve this!"

I smiled back, grasping for what to say, unable to find words. She just smiled, her eyes sparkling. She was so wonderful! Then she was gone.

No amount of reading or grade skipping or applause of any sort could compare with the high I felt as the crowds pushed and herded me through that blessed hallway.

It wasn't until I arrived at the class that a famillier chill flooded my body and I remembered where it was that I had been heading. I turned slowly around to face the door. Various marks and dents scattered across its framework, giving the appearance that the door itself was scarred and dishevelled. A red liquid had left a stain sputtered across the closest hinge to the floor. It seemed darker than other doors too, as if it was made of a dark oak or willow perhaps.

I suddenly occured to me that I had never actually seen this door before, although I had been inside the class much more frequently than I could have ever imagined being able to bear. I looked around and found that the entire rest of the class was huddled around me, enclosing me in a tight semi-circle that gave me full access to the door. On a regular day everyone would have been pushing and tripping in a chaotic scramble to enter and get into their seat, but today they all just stared at me, waiting with breathless anticipation for me to make the first move. It seemed as though now only had I gained the attention of the entire school, I also for the first time held the respect of my classmates. This was yet another thing that I had not ever concidered as even a possibility, and yet in the unexpectedness there was also a deep satisfaction, in a sort of undescribable way.

Smiling despite of myself, I let myself soak the moment in before opening the menacing portway. I boldly stepped inside and as soon as I took the first step, I heard the rest of the class quickly filing in behind me, spliting into two streams on either side of me.

It was like walking into a void. In a classroom that normally housed fairly decent lighting, it was almost pitch black. Only faint traces of light of light burrowing through the shades on the windows made it possible to see where I was going.

Normally I sat near the back, but today it seemed as though my seat had been preordained. I found myself compelled, by my own psyche as much as by the rest of the class, to sit in the front row, in the center of the class. I felt the eyes of the whole class on me.

I looked at my watch, the bell wouldn't ring for another four minutes. I hoped that he would wait until the very last second before making his pressence known, but a cold, dark voice dashed dreams with three words.

"Well, well, well." bitterness curdled the "el" sounds as the rolled maliciously off his tongue.

I swallowed nervously as a dark figure revealed himself from the shadows at the front of the class. Illuvitar was right there, less than a yard away from me. I wondered if he had been there the whole time or had maneuvered in the dark. He came even closer, walking very slowly until his legs brushed the front of my desk. He wasn't blinking and his gaze was directed straight into my eyes.

"Mr. Jackson." he said, his tongue savouring the name as if it were one that he knew but could not place. The menace that was clearly in his voice was surprisingly not evident in his eyes at all. They seemed almost perplexed, as if confused by what they saw. While he remained fixated on me, they shared none of the contempt that filled his voice. "It seems you are," he paused, and blinked, "moving up in the world."

"Yeah," gaffed a boy I didn't know who was sitting a few rows across from me. "You might say he's really skipping through life!"

The kid started to laugh loudly at his own, well I can only imagine he thought it was a joke, but before even the first "haw" came from his lips, he was coldly silenced by one swift motion of Illuvitar's neck.

He glared suddenly at the poor kid with such intensity that I immediently felt ashamed that I had ever considered my "Roger Vandeli stare" an acheivement. Now the full fury of his eyes had come into bloom, and a watched as the kid literally shrivelled in his chair to escape from it. While I felt obvious pity for the guy, I couldn't help feeling relieved at the slight break from Illuvitar's attention that this idiot had provided me with. It was short lived, however, as I felt the heat of his incessant eyes return to me much sooner than I would have preferred.

He was now crouched down in front of my desk so our faces were level with each other. Each action; turning, the head movements, crouching; was sharp and crisp, and a fanatical energy about his body. That sinister glare was now focused on me fully, and even more effective due to our very close proximatey. He spoke now in a whisper, but that whisper held even more loathing and flaming hated than I had ever heard from this man even when he was yelling the whole class into detention.

"You may have entoxicated this entire crumbling school into believing that you were worthy of this advancement, but know that there are others who are less easily impressed by a punk's idle luck." he stressed the last word so that the "k" bit hard and dramatically. He let it hang in the air, no one daring to speak, his eyes still taunting me, unfettered.

A echoing clip-clop resonated in the silence, breaking the tension slightly but not enough that anyone dared move a muscle. The sound got louder and it became clear that someone was running in the hall towards us. The door burst open and I could make out the sillouette of a girl I had seen in science class this morning, waiting at the doorway, gasping for breath.

Without even turning around to see who it was, Illuvitar's deathly voice sounded again. "Get out of my class."

"Bu..." Illuvitar would not give her even one word.

"Get out." he repeated.

Several students were now glancing at the late girl, their eyes full of a mixture of pity and indifference. Her eyes looked as though she would cry within the second. I noticed she held a slip of paper in her hand, most likely an excuse from the Principal I observed, likening it's size and fold to the one I had received just days ago. Illuvitar wasn't one to harken to any excuse, however, and I knew she'd just get in more trouble if she tried to make her case again. I watched sympathetically as she turned from the door and quickly broke into a run again, sobs now accenting the fading clip-clop of her shoes.

I was fully aware that Illuvitar's eyes had not left mine during that entire exchange, but I would no longer give him the satisfaction of my attention. As long as he was silent I would not turn to him. My eyes had mostly ajusted to the darkness by now and so I glanced around the outskirts of the room, being careful never to let an idle glance reach directly in front of me.

After what must have been at least ten minutes (it seemed hours, but ten minutes seems reasonable based on later aproximations on my watch) Mr. Illuvitar swept himself to his feet and retreated back into the deep darkness at the front of the class.

"Detention after school, Mr. Jackson." came the disembodied voice of a shrouded Mr. Illuvitar minutes later. "We can't have you thinking you're something out of the ordinary."

I can't be certain, but I got a direct feeling that I was the only one who had heard him. The bell rang moments later.

"Dismissed." he said softly from the darkness. Everyone stood up as in unison, eager to get out of this pit of tension and loathing as fast as possible. I got up and worked my way into the line that was moving towards the door. I had almost made it out when Illuvitar almost instantly emerged from the shadows, appearing next to the door. He was looking in my direction, eyes on fire as he glared.

"You." he said, slightly louder than before. I prepared myself for the worst until I realized that he wasn't talking to me, instead his gaze passed over my shoulder and came to rest on someone directly to my left. "Detention, after school. I don't like people with red hair."

I turned to see who I would be sharing the sentence with and was surprised when I saw she was not trying to argue, or bursting into tears as many did in the same situation. She did not appear affected by it at all, her cool, non-chalent attitude calmly in tact as she brushed past me to the door.

"I guess we'll be seeing each other after school." the dry comment came from the doorway. Then as she stepped out into the throng, the crowds pressed on, carrying her away.

It wasn't until detention that I got to talk to her properly.

Matt A

09-05-2005, 08:28 AM

No extra readers during your abscene, it seems.:sad::crying::crying::crying:

Oh well, at least I'm still here. Better than nothing, eh?;):sad:

Anyway, welcome back. It's a general rule round these parts that, after a long abscene from the boards, a writer will return with a quality chapter that blows away all that they've done before. This chapter, needless to say, is no exception: there was little plot advancement, little expasion of characters, but in this case that doesn't matter. This chapter was simply a showcase for Illuvitar's all-encompassing evilness, and by God was it fun to read! Even Severus Snape would shrink with terror at this guy's petty-minded and self-obsessed sadism, and the way in which it was unleashed. Seriously, does this guy have a problem with women or something? Demolishing a girl for being late with reason, and giving another detention just for having red hair: that's a tad excessive even for him, if you ask me (I'd complain about Ewan's treatment as well, but seeing as I don't actually like Ewan...;):evil::evil::evil:). His appearances will get more interesing from here on in, I feel...;):anime::anime::evil::evil:

So, yeah, welcome back.;):anime::anime::anime:

-Matt A-

enigmatic_one

09-05-2005, 10:03 AM

Thanks for the warm welcome! It's good to be back. I'm glad you liked Illuvitar's showcase, I felt he needed some more time in the spotlight and Ewan was having too much good stuff happen anyway. I think you'll enjoy the next chapter which should be done within the next couple days, entitled "The Detention". At last the deeper development of other characters shall begin.....

~Enigmatic One

enigmatic_one

09-10-2005, 09:40 PM

Chapter 23

Wasted time. That was what it all came down to. School, socializing at the dinner table, friends. It all represents wasted time. Most people don't think of it that often, but time is really our most valuable resource. It's non-negotiable, it's non-refundable. When it's gone, it's gone, and no one knows how much they have. That was why I hated school. And that was why I hated detention.

There was nothing overly opressive about detention. It was actually quite laid back. You went to the detention room, sat in one of the desks, and did whatever you wanted for the amount of time you were stuck there. That'd be great if there was stuff to so there. But there wasn't. Not a thing. And all the time in the world. Wasted.

It was because of my irrevocable detestation of the whole concept of detention that I found myself oddly surprised and amused when I found myself not wasting time, that afternoon after the bell had rung, but in fact enjoying my time immensely.

Minzy and I were the only ones there. There wasn't even a teacher to watch us. The room was right next to the administration room, so Ms. Turmoil would be making sure we didn't leave until we were allowed, but the door was closed so we could do whatever we wanted in privacy.

"Alright, just a little harder." Minzy said, stretching.

"Okay," I said, pondering what to ask. Then it hit me, the perfect question. "What number did Argon's uniform have on it in gold stitching in episode 795, 'The Crater Good'?"

Minzy closed her eyes for a moment and then opened them, smiling smugly. "2...4...6...0...1" she said, teasing me slowly with each number while staying in complete control.

I put on a mock face of astonishment and clapped slowly three times. "Well done, my padowan, proved your prowess in trivia, you have indeed."

We both laughed, it occured to me that I hadn't laughed in months. Minzy was a Star Twins fan. I couldn't believe it! The series hadn't been popular since the sixties, I had thought I was the only diehard fan remaining. The only one in Narninsville, at any rate, and yet here was Minzy who had been answering any trivia questions I could throw at her for almost twenty minutes.

"So, tell me about yourself, Ewan Jackson." she said as the laughing started to die down.

I shrugged, trying to look uninteresting. "There's nothing really to tell." I did not make a habit of discussing myself with anyone, much less anyone I had known for not twenty-four hours. Besides, like I said, there is nothing to tell.

"Oh, come on." she coaxed, leaning forward in her chair. "There must be something to the genius who skipped two grades, some interesting annecdotes or unexpected characteristics."

I shook my head. "Nope, nothing comes to mind."

She rolled her eyes, but smiled. "Well, do you have any brothers or sisters?"

I shook my nead no.

"Pets?"

I shook my head again. "I did have a fish at one point, but he died."

She nodded slowly and for a split second I was reminded of Principal Oreon, stalling in her office. Minzy shifted weight and leaned back again. "Girlfriend?"

"What?" I asked, partially because I hadn't heard but what I thought I had heard didn't make sense.

"Do you have a girlfriend?" she repeated.

"Ohh," I said, relieved. "I thought you said "Grill offend." We both laughed for a minute. Well, chuckled. I guess it wasn't as funny as I had thought. She kept staring at me, expectantly, and then I realized I hadn't answered her question. "Oh! No."

Dating wasn't really something I thought about a lot. It made sense to ignore it for several reasons, all of which were reason enough all on their own. The variety cemented the deal though - dating is a superfluous topic and thus thinking about it is a waste of time. First of all, there was no one whom I deemed appropriate to dat or whom I would be interested in dating. Secondly, there was no one who expressed interest in dating me. Thirdy, and perhaps most importantly, dating itself was statistically proven to be a waste of time.

Allow me to elaborate. The dictionary defines dating as "the process of selecting and attracting a mate for marriage". Most people have an inexplicible desire to pursue the idea of marriage, and so one can see how dating is an ideal way of extriciting that goal. However, statics point out that less than two percent of dating relationships that start while the praticipants are in high school actually result in marriage. It is therefore logical that relationships started even before high school have an even smaller percent of marriage. Therefore, it is blatently obvious that it is almost impossible to achieve the desired goal of dating at this stage of life, and therefore dating is a waste of time.

You may argue that there is, however small, still a chance that the dating could lead to marriage, even at this stage. There are, of course, anomalies in life, and statistics are not always palpable. However, I have a trump even for this, ensuring that, for me at least, dating is a complete waste of time.

I have no intention of getting married.

I have done extensive research on marriage over the years and have come to the undeniable conclusion that marriage is the ultimate waste of time. Not only time, but resources also. Mostly time though.

The bottom line then remains that dating is a practise design to waste immeasurable time based on the very slight chance that it might lead to something that will waste even more time. A lifetime, in many aspects of the word. This is why I didn't give dating much thought.

"So, uh, have you ever liked anyone?" her nose seemed to twitch as she said this, although she remained laid back in her seat.

I had to think about this for a second, it was a pretty difficult question. There were very few people I had liked in life. "Well, I've had a couple of teachers who I liked. Not a lot, but I mean, they weren't bad. I also like my mom, I guess."

Minzy looked at me with a perculiar state of confusion on her face before her eyes widened and she made a sound of understanding. "Ohhh, no, no, no. I meant, anyone you liked in, like, a romantical sense."

"Ohhh," I said, glad I had misunderstood the question. This one was much easier to answer. "No." I said without hesitating.

Minzy looked skeptical. "Oh, come on, you're, what, fourteen?"

"Fifteen."

"Fifteen." she repeated. "You must've had a crush on someone at some point in your life."
I shook my head looking plainly at her. "Nope. To be honest I don't really know that many people. Except Sam of course."

"Who's he?" she asked, shifting weight again.

"She, Sam is short for Samantha."

"Oh, who's she then?" It was odd how much someone who looked absolutely nothing like Principal Oreon could remind me of that conversation.

"Sam's the most wonderful person I know. She's just amazing. Seeing her in the halls every day is the only thing that makes school decent, at least it has been until today. Even today though, seeing her after Science was the best part of the day!"

"Wait, wait, wait, are you talking about Sam Williams?"

I nodded vigorously. "You know her?"

Minzy shrugged. "Not really, I know the name."

"She's wonderful." I said again. "She's brilliant and and excellent conversationalist. She's the only person from school I've ever really talked to. She's gorgeous too, without a doubt the most beautiful person I know."

I couldn't help but notice that Minzy looked visiabley offended. I wondered why; she had absolutely no reason to be. She had asked the question after all.

Minzy rolled her eyes and said sarcastically "And you said you never liked anyone."

I looked puzzled. "I thought you said you meant romantically."

"I did mean romantically!" said Minzy, becoming more than a little annoyed. This was too much for me. The entire conversation had become confused to the point of jibberish. I was clearly missing something important here. When I didn't say anything, Minzy must have picked that up and spoke clearly and slowly to make sure I got it.

"You... Love... Her." she said.

I let out a snort of laughter. "What?" As diliberately as she had spoken, I had to have misheard again.

"You... Are... In love... With... Sam."

I laughed again, she must be joking. "No, I'm not!"

"Of course you are!" said Minzy, exasperated but possibley amused?

This was absurd. Sure, Sam was my only friend, and she was wonderful, but that didn't mean I loved her. I'm not the sort of person to randomly go about "falling in love", as wonderful as she is. I don't date people, it's a waste of time! Love is a waste of time! Time is valuable! Time is precious! Sam is wonderful!

I stopped thinking. Sam was wonderful. She was the only thing I looked forward to in an entire day of school. Many nights as I lay in bed, drenched in my insomnia, it was her I thought of. Everything we said to each other was brutishly analyzed and overanalyzed. Everything that I concidered perfect was embodied by her.

I looked up at Minzy who seemed quite frustrated, my face the picture of a sudden revelation.

"I do love her." I said softly.

After a second of staring at me, Minzy broke her aura of seriousness and smiled a little bit. "I told you so."

MR.MXYZPTLK

09-11-2005, 01:00 PM

[QUOTE=enigmatic_one]Chapter Two

I walked slowly down the road, dawdling as much as possible. I don't usually dawdle, or waste time in any way at all. In fact I put alot of energy into not wasting time. But on a school morning when I'm going to be early, the time is already wasted, so the best thing to do is waste as much of it as possible before I actually hit school property.
There was virtually nothing worse than being early for school when I was in elementary. I say virtualy because, of course, there were worse things, such as cildren starving, rain forests being mutilated, and Michael Jackson being born, but at that time and age, they didn't seem as bad from where I was.

Now that I'm in Jr. High, I realize how trivial it is in the whole scheme of things, but in my life, it remains the worst possible thing that I can be subjected to (aside, of course, from the actual attending of school itself). It's just such.... Just such a waste of time! What's wrong with showing up just before the bell goes? You'd think they's be happy just as long as we weren't late. But no! No, that's not good enough! Everyone constantly promotes and, when possible, forces you to be early! Why? What do they expect you to do while standing in the school yard for twenty to thirty minutes?

The answer is surprisingly simple: They expect you to talk to your friends. To consult your friends. To catch up with your friends. To fratrinise with your friends in every possible way so that when the bell finally does ring, and you go into your class, and sit in the cheap wooden desk that;s to small for any sort of comfort, and listen to an elderly woman ramble on about things of little importance for hours and hours, you'll have nothing left to talk about and therefore be inclined to to listen and prehaps even learn something. And while this is a shrewd strategy, it does have one flaw - what if you don't have any friends? What do you do? Talk to yourself?

wow youre a good a writer this guy reminds me of well me

enigmatic_one

09-11-2005, 01:27 PM

Thanks a lot! :anime: I'm glad you find him relatable, I was hoping he would be.

~Enigmatic One

Matt A

09-11-2005, 03:31 PM

enigmatic_one

09-11-2005, 03:36 PM

Finally, Ewan realises the obvious! Seeing as he's stone-hearted enough to consider love is "a waste of time", he's also been in need of a slap upside the head for a fair ole' while. And Minzy is the one to provide it: what a breath of fresh air she is! Though might she provide for some competition? Who knows. Either way, this chapter is bound to stir up a few things, some expected and others not...and I really can't wait.;):anime::anime::evil::evil:

Oh yes, and you now have another reader! Result!:anime::anime::anime::anime::anime:

-Matt A-
Haha, yay for results, eh? Anyway, glad you liked the chapter, and I'm glad Minzy is coming across well. She's a good character, although I can't comment on any competition she may or may not provide... ;) :anime:

I'm taking advantage of a less than busy weekend and writing again today so the next one may be up as early as tonight, although I have a long history of getting sidetracked. Speaking of getting sidetracked... ^^;;; I still haven't started reading your own stuff, although it is on my list! If I get this chapter done quickly I may even get to reading some of it today. Care to provide a link for something that you'd recommend?

~Enigmatic One

Matt A

09-11-2005, 03:41 PM

Consider it done:

http://forums.toonzone.net/showthread.php?t=124309

http://forums.toonzone.net/showthread.php?t=141157

The second one is the sequal to the first, so be sure to read them in the order provided. However, they're also both pretty long, so I sugget this if you want something shorter to start you off:

http://forums.toonzone.net/showthread.php?t=140717

But worry about your own stuff first. That's gonna be better quality than mine...;):anime::sad::anime::sad:;)

-Matt A-

enigmatic_one

09-11-2005, 03:42 PM

But worry about your own stuff first. That's gonna be better quality than mine...;):anime::sad::anime::sad:;)

-Matt A-
Well I doubt that, but I'll concider it a compliment, so, thanks. Concider your shorter one read by tonight, I look forwrad to it with drooling anticipation!

~Enigmatic One

MR.MXYZPTLK

09-11-2005, 05:13 PM

i just finished reading chapter 22 it was great your a good writer though im still not sure were your going with but as long as its entertaining who cares

enigmatic_one

09-11-2005, 05:23 PM

i just finished reading chapter 22 it was great your a good writer though im still not sure were your going with but as long as its entertaining who cares
Well I'm glad it remains entertaining! Thanks for the kind words and hope where it's going makes sense once we get there! Does that make sense? I think so. On that note, anotehr chapter!

~Enigmatic One

enigmatic_one

09-11-2005, 05:24 PM

Chapter 24

Over the next few weeks I spent a lot of time with Minzy, she was rapidly becoming a very close friend. It turned out that we sat near each other in almost every class, and her witty observations made even Mr. Olde (who turned out to be a dreary and unpassionate man) barable. Minzy wasn't really a technology person so chatting online wasn't an option, but we'd hang out before and after school most of the time. It was wierd at first, actually having someone to talk with before the bell, but as I got to know Minzy more and more I found myself looking forward to our conversations, in an odd way.

We talked about all sorts of random things, mostly complaining about school. We both had different views on what school should be and therein took issue with very different aspects of it. All the same, the conversations were quite entertaining. It was remarkable how much we had in common, actually. While not on my level of thinking, Minzy was no idiot either and did a fair share of thinking on her own too. Mostly our conversations were just fun though, and nothing breached the wall of seriousness in a way like it had at that detention.

It took me a few days to really come to embrace the scary new concept that had come to my attention that day. But even though it didn't make sense, I had known right away that it was true. Dispite all my initial instincts and stoic ideals, I was in love with Sam Williams. I had no idea what I was going to do about it, or if I could do anything for that matter, but I knew it was a fact.

The biggest complication about this new fact was 6"2, 210 lbs, and played forward on the highschool hockey team. Brad. I couldn't understand why Sam would go out with a guy who was so obviously bad for her.

Okay, I know as a reader you are going to attribute this next paragraph to jealousy on my part, especially seeing as I've never even met the guy, but you have to believe me when I say that I've heard enough about him from Sam, and know enough about Sam, to know what I'm talking about.

There's nothing terrible or evil about him, at least as far as I know, but he's not the kind of guy for Sam. He's a jock, grade eleven, probably really popular. They spend a lot of time together (that's probably one of the reasons why it's so hard to get ahold of Sam), but that doesn't mean anything. He gets her stuff all the time, like for her birthday and their six month anniversary, big stuff too, but that doesn't mean anything. They're both on "I love you" terms, but that doesn't mean anything either.

It's all about the little things. The little things that he doesn't do. Like at the school Christmas concert last year when Sam was really excited because she got a part in the play, he didn't show up for the concert. Or another night when I was instant messaging with Sam and she made a passing comment that she had just come inside because "it was too cold for someone to stay out and watch the stars with me".

There is one time I'll never forget because even though I hadn't realized I was in love her at the time, it was very traumatic for me. You should know, Sam is something of a brilliant amateur poet. She writes peoms all the time, and on the rare occassion that i am priviliged enough to read some of her work I am always very impressed. Well one day I was chatting with her online and she seemed upset. Upon inquiry, I found out that her mood was dampened by the fact that she had just had her computer wiped to get rid of a virus. All her poems had been destroyed. I was devastated. I hadn't read many of them, but as an occassional writer myself I knew how I would feel if suddenly that much of my work, that much invested time, was suddenly gone.

I asked why she hadn't backed up her work before sending in the computer to be wiped. She said that she had had them backed up. Everything she wrote, poems, short stories, the works, she sent to Brad. A lot of it was written especially for him. When she asked him to send it back to her once the computer had been wiped, however, it seems he had deleted it all. This devastated me even further. I still maintained that love was a waste of time, but to have feelings that strong for someone that you would spend that much time with them, and write all kinds of stuff for them, and then give them the honor of reading it, only to have them care less for the effort and not even keep a copy on their hard drive.... I was livid. There's no excuse for that. You can argue how you want, but it's just wrong. It was that moment that I knew Brad was bad news. I had had suspicions before but never enough proof to actually condemn him. This was all the proof I needed. As far as I was concerned, Brad wasn't worthy of asking Sam the time of day, and no matter what he might tell her, he didn't love her at all.

The sad part was, I knew Sam loved him. Dispite all the little things, or lack thereof, dispite the fact that I wondered if he even listened to anything she said, she loved him. I knew that she did. The way she talked about him, all the little things she did for him, like the poems, I knew this was more than an infatuation as far as she was concerned. So for her sake, I kept my mouth shut. I listened to her glowing reports of times they spent together and hoped desperately that I was completely wrong about him. I always knew he was a jerk though.

Now, I also knew that I loved her. It had always been hard knowing that she was wasting so much time, so much love over a guy who cared so little, but now it was unbearable. I didn't know what to do. I didn't want to meddle in their relationship, but it was so hard to think of her with him. It would be different if she was dating a guy who loved her. I'd be able to stand that. I would still love her, but I could live with it because I would know she was happy and the guy was making her happy. And I guess Brad did make her happy. She did love him, even if he had no idea what that meant. The only thing I could do was continue to support her in everything she did, and pray that her eyes would be opened.

At least I found myself seeing her more now. We couldn't hang out before or after school because of the way different classes were positioned, but I often saw her in the halls two or even three times on the same day between classes. We also talked at least as much in not more on the computer. There were still lots of times my "Hey" would remain unanswered though. Still, I was seeing Sam enough to keep me estatic most of the time.

And for once I found myself having more than one reason to be estatic. My advancement into grade nine had marked the start of a new era of what oddly resembled happiness for me. School was drab, as far as the learning went, but for once I found myself not minding the mediocrite. I guess there were more than enough things to keep my mind off it. Besides getting to know Minzy and frequent Sam spottings, there were plenty of other perks during day.

The initial gawking period had evolved into actual popularity for me, something I had not expected at all. For once, I actually felt that I had the respect of the majoity of the student population. It was quite and extraordinary change, and I couldn't believe the difference it made in day to day activities. I felt more confident too. I mean, I had always known my own capabilities, but that's not confidence. Confidence isn't something you can explain, you just have it or you don't, and when you have it, you know you can make it. It seems to me that confidence is not unlike love.

I knew I was actually enjoying life, and especially school, when I surprised even myself at a meeting with Principal Oreon a week after I started grade nine. It was a pretty standard meeting, just to check up on me and see how I was doing.

After I assured her that everything was going very well and the work wasn't any harder than I had expected it to be, I sensed her growing uncomfortable again.

"Well, then, it seems we've come to the point we talked about the last time we met in this office." she spoke slowly and I wasn't actually sure what point she was talking about. "Last time I told you that your future was in your own hands, I was giving you complete control of where you went, and you chose to skip a grade. You also expressed a desire to advance again. You have now had the opportunity to sample what your life would be like in grade nine for one week, I believe this is ample time to make your decision, although if it isn't feel free to tell me. However under the assumption that it is, I must ask you," she paused and sort of sighed as she breathed in. "Do you still wish to skip ahead into grade ten?"

The answer came immediently without thought, but to my own surprise it was not the one I had expected to give without thought. "No."

Principal Oreon hessitated, appearing shocked. I was shocked myself. Why had I said no? This was everything I had wanted for years, not even Breagh Norman had skipped two grades, much less two grades in one year. In fact I had never heard of it happening! This was a completely unique opportunity I was being handed.... and yet I was happy where I was. I was making friends, I was well thought of, and the learning wasn't completely useless. Why would I throw that away? Just to skip one lousy grade?

"No." I repeated, starting to smiling now. "No, I don't still wish to skip into grade ten, but thank you for asking."

Principal Oreon was still clearly shocked, apparently she hadn't expected me to change my mind anymore than I had. "Er, well, if you're sure then. If circumstances change, be sure to let me know at once."

I fully smiled now. "Thank you, but that won't be necessary. I'm quite happy where I am."

MR.MXYZPTLK

09-11-2005, 06:06 PM

wow this is getting intresting but did he just say he did'nt want to move up a class:confused: :confused: :confused:

Matt A

09-12-2005, 08:54 AM

So, Ewan might actually stop being a cold-hearted and highly irritating little twerp now? A nice thought, I must say, and one that definitely seems to be introduced in an interesting way: a change that is noticable, but not at the expense of being illogical. Nicely done.:anime::anime::anime:

Ewan blatantly is jealous, though...:p

-Matt A-

enigmatic_one

09-12-2005, 03:06 PM

So, Ewan might actually stop being a cold-hearted and highly irritating little twerp now?
Welllllllllllllll, I don't know if I'd go that far! :anime: ;) :p He will undoubtabley be different now though. I hope the transition went/goes smoothly (he's not all the way there yet) and that it maintains believablity. I'm also worried I sort of just established his friendship with MInzy too quickly without really getting into it as much as maybe I should have, but I felt it was necessary to skip through a few weeks for once instead of telling every hour in real time. Hope it worked. :shrug: :sweat: :sweat:

wow this is getting intresting but did he just say he did'nt want to move up a class:confused: :confused: :confused:
Haha, glad it's interesting. And yes, it was a big thing for him to say no to that! :anime: :p

I hope to get another one done tonight/tomorrow, so keep an eye out!

~Enigmatic One

Matt A

09-12-2005, 07:42 PM

I'm also worried I sort of just established his friendship with MInzy too quickly without really getting into it as much as maybe I should have, but I felt it was necessary to skip through a few weeks for once instead of telling every hour in real time. Hope it worked. :shrug: :sweat: :sweat:
It did. Whilst we haven't spent all that much time with Minzy so far, we've spent enough to understand wny Ewan would like her. That's the most important thing.;):anime:

-Matt A-

enigmatic_one

09-15-2005, 10:57 PM

Chapter 25

Throughout all this, Mr. Drofloc remained in the corner of my mind. With all the changes, all the new ways of life I didn't have time to investigate it as much as I would have liked to, but I was constantly thinking about it. From the little research I had done, I had found out nothing, but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. He wasn't listed in the phone book, nor could I find him on any webpages when I did a search for his name. This didn't help me prove anything, although if Drofloc was an alias of a time travelling me, it would make sense that there wouldn't be any records in this time. Although it seemed more and more likely to me all the time, I continued to reserve judgement at least until I could see him again.

At times, however, it was hard to see why I had put so much time and thought into the idea at all. I mean, it was crazy really! And with everything happening for me, it was becoming easier all the time to just forget about it. It was odd, really, for the first time in my life, life was actually..... wonderful.

There is no higher word of commendation or praise that I can give. Amazing, incredible, brilliant; these are all great words and I use them all frequently, but wonderful trumps them all. It's even higher than perfect. I don't trust perfect. And it wasn't "perfect" anyway. I mean, I would have liked to see Sam more for one thing. But even with that, life was still wonderful. Wonderful. I really love that word.

One of the reasons why it was so wonderful, I think, was because of it's unpredicablity. Even after a month in grade nine things did not settle down into a mediocre pattern. There were still surprises all the time, little deviations from the normal that caught me off guard and often made me smile. Plus conversations with Minzy were anything but predictable, and would often wander off in a direction of their own choosing, ending up somewhere in the obscure.

Like one english class about five weeks into my new life. Mr. Olde was well into a long and winded lecture about the importance of using commas before the word "and" (a custom I had long adopted, dispite most of the country opting off to the illogical American way of doing it), and Minzy and I, seated near the back, were well into a very hot debate about the importance of socks.

"I absolutely cannot stand socks." I said, resolutely. "They just cling to your feet and don't allow for air regulation."

"Air regulation?" Minzy looked at me skeptically. "Why do your feet need 'air regulation'?"

"What, you don't let your feet breath? Besides after a whole day with socks the smell becomes unbearable!"

"What kind of a freak goes around smelling their feet?" Minzy asked, in disbelief. "Yeah, they might not smell great, but they're nowhere near your nose so it doesn't make a difference either way. It's a small price to pay to keep your feet warm."

"My feet are perfectly warm without socks, thank you very much."

"And, they keep your feet from scraping against your shoes."
"Yes, I will concede that, and that is the only reason that I wear them at all. As soon as I get home and don't have to wear shoes anymore for the day, off they go, with malice."

"With malice? Dude, the poor things just spent a day on your grubby feet. Without pay! You should be thanking them!"

"Thanking them?!?!? For what, making my feet get all clammy and gross? They need air regulation, I tell ya!!!"

"Ewan, please." This was from Mr. Olde. As the argument had escaladed, so had my volume. I sheepishly lowered my head and sat around in my desk, facing him. I knew I was blushing.

"Now, as I was saying, the comma must also always precede the word 'but', but only if it is meant as a conjection. 'But' as a preposition or 'butt' as a noun do not have to be preceded by a comma necessarily, however can be in special circumstances, such as a predicate with...."

"So, yeah anyway," MInzy continued, judging that we had listened to Olde for long enough. "There's a big show this weekend that you should come to."

"A what?"

"A bunch of local bands and doing a show on Friday and you should come. Antic Disposition is gonna be there!" she looked at me knowingly as if Antic Disposition was a band I wouldn't want to miss. To be honest I had never heard of them.

"Meh, I don't know." As much as I was enjoying popularity during school, I had remained untouched by it once the bell rang. From 3 pm onwards I enjoyed a peaceful solitude in my own home and that was not something I was ready to give up without thought. I really did enjoy the time by myself.

"Oh, come on, it'll be fun! They've got a bunch of great songs too, like "I Want to See You, But I'm Blind" and "I Wish I Knew Where I was Going" and..."

At that moment the door burst open and a scraggily kid stimbled into the room. Even Mr. Olde stopped his lecture as the boy re-oriented himself in the new room.

"Ah..... Larynze." Mr. Olde looked down at the boy skeptically as he said the name. I was startled to realize that this was the same boy who had been waiting in the administration room on the day when I had been summoned to see Principal Oreon.

"Just take a seat in the back and try to pay attention." said Mr. Olde, wearily.

I had been in this class for more than a month and yet this was the first time I had seen him since the office, surely he couldn't actually be in my class! No one could go five weeks without being in school. Yet there seemed no other option as he staggeringly made his way down the aisle. I realized he was coming towards me and was dismayed to furthr realize that the only empty seat nearby was directly in front of me. This was a bad kid, someone I certainly did not want to socialize with, or even sit near to.

It was not a surprise when Larynze sat in front of me. It was a surprise when Minzy greeted him with great familliarity.

"Hey Larynze," she said, putting on a smile.

"Hi Minzy." he didn't seem as talkative as he had the last time we had met. In fact he seemed quite the opposite of hyper.

"This is Ewan," she said, gesturing to me. "He's the kid that skipped a grade." This was how I was often introduced.

"Nice to meet you." said Larynze as he sunk into his chair. "Man, am I gonna get stoned tonight."

Minzy kind of laughed, although it sounded very fake; I was trying not to look as if I would be sick.

"So anyway, Ewan, you coming to the show?" I had hoped Minzy would forget what we were talking about.

Larynze perked his head up a bit. "Which show is this?"

"The one Friday night." Minzy explained to him, swivelling in her chair slightly to see him better. "Mostly local bands, but I think there might be someone in from Brampton."

"Oooh, is this the one Antic Dispositon is playing at?"

Minzy smiled and nodded. "Yep, and Fedora Express is gonna be there too. A bunch of us are heading out, you want to come?"

Larynze nodded enthusastically from his reclined position. "Groovy."

I flashed a fleeting look at Minzy, trying to be as descreet as I could. What on earth could she be thinking, inviting someone like this. I assumed by "a bunch of us" Minzy was including me in the night too, and I had to admit it did sound kind of cool, but why bring along this psycho! I sat through the rest of the class, glancing routinely back at Larynze, hoping he wouldn't suddenly pull a knife on me.

As soon as the bell rang and we got out in the hall, out of ear shot from Larynze, I took my issue up with Minzy.

"Why did you invite him along?" I asked pleadingly.

"Why wouldn't I invite him?" said Minzy, looking at me in a surprised but cold manner. "He's my friend."

"He is a bad character."

Minzy let out a puff of air in annoyance. "What, you hear the word "stoned" and he's suddenly a bad character?"

"I've met him before, he's not good news. He's got a gun, and..."

"He doesn't have a gun."

"Yes he does," I stammered, "He..."

"He talks big because he thinks it makes him seem cooler. He's incredibley insecure, his dad beats him up pretty often."

"So you're saying he doesn't do any of the stuff he talks about? He was definately on something the last time I saw him."

"Just because he does pot doesn't make him a bad person."

"No, but it makes him a stupid person."

"It makes him a very sad person." said Minzy, stopping us both in mid-stride. I looked at her, seeing the intensity in her eyes. She was very passionate about this. "I will not stand you being spiteful towards him, if anything you should pity him. Larynze has had a tough life, with far less opportunities than you. Or me." she added. "You've got absolutely no right to feel superior to him in any way."

Minzy started walking again, more slowly than before, and I followed in silence. I knew she was probably right, but it still didn't jibe well with me that this guy was doing drugs and that was supposed to be just fine. Then something occured to me.

"Minzy, do you do drugs?" she almost stopped walking again, but then tried to cover her surprise and maintain the expression and pace she had been keeping. She was silent for a few seconds before answering.

"No. Not anymore. I've done weed a few times but.... No I don't."

We walked the rest of the way in silence. It still wasn't sitting right, but something did feel right about what she had said. I knew this would be something that would keep me awake the next few nights, analyzing and re-analyzing this conversation. Something was right about it.

It wasn't until we got to door to health class that Minzy turned to me again.

"So, you going to the show or not?"

Matt A

09-16-2005, 03:35 AM

Ah, so maybe Ewan won't stop being a tw*t just yet. But I suppose drugs just don't bother me like they bother Ewan, though I'm not sure why they would. Strangely enough, I think Larynze is actually pretty cool, in a werd sort of way.;):anime:

I can imagine the meeting of Ewan and rock gig to be a farce of epic proportions...which is why it sounds so cool. I wonder if he'll take up the offer...;):anime::evil:

Oh, and I liked the argument about socks: humourously tenuous. And it's good to have Drofloc mentioned again too...I wonder how important he'll turn out to be.;)

-Matt A-

MR.MXYZPTLK

09-16-2005, 01:19 PM

yay it looks like finnally after all this happyness something bad might just happen to ewan:D :D :D :evil:

oh minzy and ewan really talk about rubbish who cares about socks!!!

enigmatic_one

09-28-2005, 03:16 PM

I'm really sorry, I've been trying to write it for about a week now but life/lack of sleep had not been condusive to good writing. I have started it, but whenever I tried to further it I felt like I was really just dragging on nothing and stopped for fear of killing it. I may be so bold as to suggest that tomorrow I will get some serious writing time, but if not definately before the weekend is over. Cheers, and sorry for the wait!

~Enigmatic One

MR.MXYZPTLK

10-04-2005, 06:37 AM

I just started reading the growing pains of Adrian mole and I noticed it has similarietys to the firstcouple of chapters of this did adrian mole give this novel any infleunce

enigmatic_one

10-04-2005, 06:43 AM

Actually, I've never even heard of it so, no. It sounds interesting though, is it any good? By the way, yes I'm aware that it's Tuesday and still no chapter. I really am working on it, this weekend just turned out to be really crazy. Hopefully in the next couple days you'll see something.

~Enigmatic One

MR.MXYZPTLK

10-04-2005, 07:32 AM

enigmatic_one

10-06-2005, 08:28 PM

Alright...... It's been ages, I know, but here is the new chapter at last! I know it's a tradition to have a really good chapter after a long dry period, so I'll leave it up to you as to whether this has delivered. I can tell you, however that this is the longest chapter yet, so hopefully that counts for something. The writing style is a little different for part of it and I hope you can figure out what's going on. I think it's fairly obvious eventually, but I'll let you judge that too. Anyway, without further ado, here it is!

~Enigmatic One

enigmatic_one

10-06-2005, 08:28 PM

Chapter 26

"I CAN'T SEE YOU! BUT LOVE IS BLIND, SO I'M BLIND!"
The music blared impossibley loud from the stack of about sixteen speakers situated at the front of the room. With every beat of the drums, which could much more accurately be called random noise dispensers, my eardrums literally threatened to vibrate right out of my head. It had only been ten minutes, but already sound had abused and abandonned my conception. All that existed was this.... music.

I'm hesitant to call it that, since the sporadic nature of it's chaos made it seem more akin to a seizure victim falling off a cliff than something people listen to for pleasure. I looked around at the crowd I was, alas, part of who were all bobbing their heads excitedly to the high screechings.

"You say justice is blind, you say you're blind as a bat, but I'm just blind for you - I don't know where you're at!!!" The last line was followed by a prolonged screaming from the lead vocalist which was then simulated by the majority of the crowd.

Minzy was bobbing her head violently with the beat next to me, a broad grin of excitement on her face. I still had no idea how she had managed to somehow coerse me into coming with her and her friends. Of the six of us standing together, I was now the only one not jumping up and down excitedly to the music. Minzy turned to me.

"Isn't this great?" she yelled.

"What??" I called back, unable to make out what her words were over the loud blasts from the stage.

"ISN'T THIS GREAT?" she said louder.

I tried to smile and nodded feebley. "Peachy." I said, trying to sound like I was enjoying it and knowing at the same time that there was no way she heard me at all. Apparently I'm a much better actor that I had always assumed because she just beamed at me, flashing a thumbs up before once again getting lost in the music.

When the song was finished, the crowd erupted in a constant stream of yelling and appluase. For one milisecond, I was able to hear the echos in my ears in peace. Then an unnecessary guitar solo sprung to life and the crowd spiked their volume at least two hundred percent.

"Forks, spoons; who do they think they are? They're just goons, won't ever be a star! Clean off your plate, clean off your plate! Ya filth!" I had given up trying to find logic within the lyrics.

Looking around, I really was at a complete loss as to why anyone would voluntarily spend time in a place like this. The room was largely dark, the only light permating from various stage lights at an inconsistant and highly irritating track of flashes. The loudness was unbarable, and also eliminated the possibility of any sort of conversation, decent or otherwise. Plus everyone was stuck standing up, which was likely to cause fatigue in the legs after any sort of time had passed. It even smelled dank, a sort of sweet mustiness that I couldn't quite place but reminded me of the entrance to school for some reason. Essentially, this was a place that abused and eventually numbed all five senses, offering nothing in return other than wasted time. Yet here were all these people smiling and enjoying themselves all the same. So enigmatic.

I noticed a door to the side leading to an annex of sorts where refreshments were being sold. It was an excuse to increase the distance between myself and the speakers, and perhaps even catch my thoughts behind a wall with muffling possibilities. I saw my opportunity, and with a quick gesture of intention to Minzy, I was gone.

I closed the door behind and was overjoyed at how complete the silence suddenly became. I could still hear a very muffled guitar solo flaboyantly playing to the crowd, but I actually had to strain to hear it. The only real indication that a musical disaster was taking place in the next room was the bass line that boomed exceptionally loud for some reason and greeted the room with a steady pulse in the walls every second or so. Other than that, the room was bright, not overly crowded, aside from a slight tinge of smoke in the air it was actually a decent place to spend time. I was amazed that such a place actually exsisted in the word after the horrible twelve minutes I had just lived through.

Four tables filled the room, occupied by the random couple or group but essentially unpopulated, and at the far end was a small service window. Glad I had thought to bring some extra money, I approached the window and nodded to the cashier.

"Hi, I'll have an orange juice, hold the ice." I said, pleasantly.

The cashier smirked and looked at me skeptically, but then reached under the counter and resurfaced with a small plastic cup. "A buck." The price seemed a little much concidering the size of the glass, but concessions tend to be overpriced at things like this from what I've read.

I slid the loonie over the counter and accepted the drink, sitting down at the nearest table. I took a sip of the orange juice and couldn't help smiling. It was probably just because I was having such a miserable time and was really thirsty, but for some reason it was the best orange juice I've ever had. It didn't even really taste like orange juice, it was more fluid seeming. I guess hunger really is the best seasoning, or something to that extent.

I finished my orange juice probably faster than I should have, but stayed sitting down, just absorbing the room and its consequent quietness. I found myself getting a little dizzy and hoped I wasn't getting a headache from the incredible level of sound I had experienced. How had Minzy ever talked me into coming. At first I had said no, of course, but eventually continual coaxing and various nagging by other friends of hers who were also coming lead me to cave. Never again would I make such a mistake.

I sat staring vaguely at the room, which had begun to tilt slightly to the left, and allowed myself to get lost in my thoughts. The peace was so lovely. Everything was lovely. Just being there, by myself, with silence, with myself, and my lovely orange juice.... It was are very wonderful. Maybe I would come again some time, just for the effect of the silence afterwards, And the lovely orange juice perhaps.

"Hey Ewan." said a soft, but excited voice. I looked up, coming out of my thoughts and tried to figure out where the voice had come from, something that was difficult until I finally pulled my head together enough to get the room to stop spinning. Normally it's not that difficult to ajust to the world again after getting lost in thought. When my eyes finally came into focus, I realized that Larynze was sitting just one table away from me.

"Hi Larynze!" I said, not really wanting to talk to him, but feeling oddly friendly. I had actually thoight a lot about what Minzy had said about him, although I hadn't reached any verdict yet.

"You want to sit over here?" he called. The last thing I wanted to do was to leave the solitude of my thoughts, especially to talk to someone I did not particularly enjoy the company of, but for some reason I found myself nodding and standing up. On my feet, dizziness found an entirely new definition. I started to wonder if I was actually starting to get seriously sick, but at the same time a sudden giddiness filled me and I soon found myself sitting across from Larynze with a wide grin on my face.

"So what's new?" I asked, still smiling like an idiot. Why, I had no idea.

"Oh, not much. Got into another scrape with the fuzz earlier, but managed to throw them by swimming down the river and shooting off some barrels of oil and like. Man, I got a crazy high on, that night."

I nodded my head enthusiastically. "Cool, cool."

Laryze seemed to get excited by the fact that I was actually listening to him. "Yeah, and then I helped my brother get the cargo from his smuggler friends down at the docks, but they double crossed him and wanted more money, but I was able to hold 'em off with my kung fu I learned a while back. I knocked 'em all out, but my brother left with the cargo and I hadda walk back to Ice Bay. Funny thing walking, the more you do it, the more chances you have of being mugged. It's a good thing I had my cro bar or I mighta had to shoot somebody or like."

I nodded as he spoke, too giddy to do anything other than listen and think. Minzy was right, there was no way half of this stuff could be true at all, he had to be making it up. I kind of had to admire his quick imagination, but couldn't help but note how sad it was that he wanted attention this badly, and even more so that stories like this were what he assumed would make people like him. What was even sadder was that apparently, these were exactly the sort of things that made people like him. For the first time, I could really see what Minzy meant about pity.

"So then we're heading out of Taco Bell when Kyle Jordans and his gang jump off the roof and attack us before we can make it back on the train. We try to hide out at Wal-Mart but the sneak in and start randomly attacking people until they find us. His best fighter would of had me if Kyle himself hadn't betrayed the guy and stuck a knife through his back."

I allowed myself to really just look at the mousey boy sitting before me. He had dark circles excentuating his checkbones and his eyes were sullen, as in sinking into his skull. His hair was in a complete state of disarray and probably hadn't been washed in weeks, if not months, and the the too-big sweatshirt he had on gave his small frame the appearance of being even smaller. Looking at him, I wondered how I could ever feel anything other than pity and compassion towards this poor, poor kid. There was something else about him that surprised me though.

Although his appearance was shody and even sickly looking, there was something in his face that usurped that disadvantage. A kind of brightness, of enthusiasm that shone through his visage as he got into the completely absurd story he was trying to sell me. There was something more to it though. He really believed what he was saying. I knew it couldn't possibley have happened, but there was a realism in his eyes that made me excited, even in the giddy state I was in. Larynze was a natural story teller.

"So we ducked behind the rack of Tylenol, and there was the exit, finally graspable..... er like." he ended.

"Wow," I said, finally trusting myself to talk, although the giddiness was still uncomfortabley present in my mind. "That is quite a story there, Larynze. You've got to tell me stuff like that more often, it's reeeally interesting!" I was trying to be sincere but also not patronizing. I really was starting to like Larynze, as impossible as that seemed even days ago. Maybe it was because I was so giddy.

"Really?" Larynze seemed a little tickled with himself. "Well I've got lots of others if you...."

I nodded enthusiastically as he trailed off. I seemed to have a lot of energy to kill.

"Wellllll..." he said, setting up for an exciting beginning. "Me an my cousin decided to go fishing out in the woods, but a bear caught scent of us and chased us onto a raft! Everything was going okay, but then my cousin decided he has to have a smoke, so he takes out a match and is gonna light up when the match slips and the whole raft catches fire! We woulda swum, but the water was so freezin' that we...."

"Ewan?" An unknown female voice cause me to sit up and forget about Larynze for a moment, who didn't seem to notice and continued telling his story. I looked across the room towards the door to the main hall and saw one of Minzy's friends walking quickly towards me. It was Britney. I'd seen her hanging around with Minzy different times, and she was often in groups when different things happened, but this was the first time I had actually heard her speak. She was now standing in front of me.

Britney is hot. It's as simple as that. She is really, very hot. Hot isn't the same as beautiful. For instance, Sam is the most beautiful girl I know, without question. She is stunningly gorgeous. Beautiful, or gorgeous, however, is not hot. That's not to say hot is better than beautiful, it's not at all. I'd choose beautiful over hot any day of the week. It's just hot. I really can't explain it any better than that. Standing in front of me right now in a turquoise halter top and skirt, it was never more clear how hot Britney was.

"Ewan, are you coming back? You've been in here almost twenty minutes you know, everyone was wondering what happened to you!" she was smiling.

The giddiness reached a new level again as I stood up rather suddenly and replied smiling, my words slurring together slightly for some reason. "Hey, yeah I was just coming out. Yeeeahhh. Shall we head back in together?"

Britney looked at me with a sort of amused curiousity for a moment, but smiled and held out her hand for me to take. "Yeah, come on."

I took her hand and almost fell over in the process, I really have no idea why I was so topsy that night. Trying to regain my equilibrium, I turned and nodded to Larynze. "Catch you later buddy."

He nodded nervously back to me, but seemed content as Britney lead me back into the main room.

When the door opened, the sound hit me again with such force that my legs almost collasped, although there were shaking even before the door opened so I'm not sure I can fully blame the music. I almost fell a second time as we got closer again to Minzy and the group, but Britney caught me and helped me get my balance again. She seemed quite amused by the whole thing.

When we were almost back with the group, Minzy turned to greet us. She said something (presumabley "Hey!" or some variation), but I couldn't make it out and it didn't seem important enough to ask her to repeat herself.

Britney leaned close to Minzy and whispered something in her ear. Then they looked at each other, and Minzy smiled knowingly. She looked me up and down. "How're you doing, champ?" she shouted, I could barely make her out, but I could make her out.

I made the "thumbs up" sign with both hands. "I'm good." I said merrily, my right knee almost giving out again.

Minzy laughed, although I couldn't hear it and then said something to Britney again. They both laughed, so I did too although I had no idea what was said. "Get ready, it's almost my favourite part of the song!" she shouted again so I could hear.

"It's comin' for you, and it's coming for me. We're gonna get to the station, the ride is free. There's just one rule that you've gotta abide, so listen up so you don't decide!!!" The lyrics, illogical and poorly written as the were, didn't seem to matter as much anymore. In fact, the whole experience was actually almost enjoyable. In fact, it was enjoyable! I was really having fun! Maybe it was because I was giddy, maybe I was giddy because I was enjoying it, but it was really awesome! I actually found myself thrashing my head along to the beat like so many of the people around me.

"Okay, this is it!" Minzy yelled quickly. I could see everyone getting ready and wondered what was coming up. A short drum solo heightened the anticipation. Then the lead singer came in again quietly.

"You better make sure,"

"MAKE SURE!" The entire audience echoed him here, yelling out the words at a crescendo to rival anything the speakers were dishing out.

"Make sure,"

"MAKE SURE!" again, the audience screamed the echo. I found it a bit disorienting at first, but oddly enough, not unenjoyable.

"Make sure you take your socks off 'fore you get on that train. Right now you make sure,"

"MAKE SURE!" I was getting the pattern now.

"Make sure,"

"MAKE SURE!" I yelled out with all the virosity of a dying elephant. There was something about praticipation that just felt... good. I honestly enjoyed being a part of it, as I was honestly enjoying this music! I could even call it music at this point without flinching! I looked around me at all the people surrounding me, Minzy, Britney, countless others who filled the room, all smiling and jumping and nodding their heads. This was what it was all about, this was having fun. Maybe it was a waste of time, but it was a fun waste of time, and that was all that really mattered. I imagine I looked like a complete idiot, but I couldn't help grinning broadly as I jumped and yelled along with everyone, and when my legs did eventually buckle and I fell on the floor, I know I was still smiling.

Matt A

10-07-2005, 08:30 AM

You said that writers have to return from a long break with a quality chapter...

Well, you've done that. Ewan being pissed and not realising it is just too funny for words: in fact, if it wasn't for the fact that I'm sat in a public library, I might well have died laughing.;) :anime: :anime: :anime:

And you know the best part? The fallout from this chapter will be even funnier.;) :anime: :evil:

-Matt A-

MR.MXYZPTLK

10-07-2005, 10:53 AM

yay new chapter:anime: :anime: :anime: :anime: :anime: :anime: :anime: :anime: :anime: :anime: :anime: :anime: :anime: :anime: :anime: :anime: :anime: :anime: :anime: :anime: :anime: :anime:

I very much enjoyed this one it seems like ewan is slowly becoming normal and it had some dry sense of humor which I always like good job it was worth the wait

enigmatic_one

10-10-2005, 04:44 PM

Chapter 27

A bird chirped. For about twenty nine seconds there was nothing I wanted more in the world than to strangle that bird to death with my bare hands.

I groaned, not able to bring myself to move but horribley aware that I was freezing and my blanket had fallen off of me in the night. My head hurt. A lot. I wanted to sleep and never wake up again. Now I was awake though, thanks to the bird. I was awake, freezing, tired, and miserable with a horrific pain in my head and no hope of actually falling back to sleep. I hate that bird.

After a short amount of time I reasoned with myself that in order for anything to get better I was going to have to move. I rose my arm a little bit; My head split with an more intense pain. I lowered my arm again. The logical thing to do would be to quickly grab my blanket off the floor and try to get warm and hopefully back to sleep. Unfortunately I know my body and I knew getting back to sleep would be impossible now that I was capable of conscious thought. Instead I did probably the least advisable thing, but what I knew was inevitable. I took a moment to prepare for the incredible amount of pain I assumed my head was about to receive, and I stood up. I rarely make incorrect assumptions. Today was not a rare day.

The pain was almost enough to make me quickly sit down again and hit my head with something hard in an attempt to fall unconscious, but I knew better than that. I wearily struggled my way to the bathroom and searched the medicine cabinet for Tylenol or Asperin or something, but today, probably the first time in eight or nine years that I had a headache, we were out. Typical.

Hoping to distract my mind from virtual clamp of knives it was enclenched in, I tired to remember what had happened the night before. For possibley the first time in my life I was at a blank. I literally could not remember any of the procedings from when I got to the show to when I got home. I couldn't even remember coming home. Was I sick? It would certainly seem so from the headache, but could there be more than that? I usually don't forget a detail but the only thing I could remember was the loud music.

Oh, duh. I spent an entire night listening to outrageously loud music. Is there any wonder I have a headache? Oy, sometimes you are not too quick, Ewan. Although it still doesn't explain the memory loss... I guess nothing much happened so I didn't bother remembering. I had obviously gotten home alright, since I was here now, and I had stripped to my boxers before falling to sleep. If I missed anything important someone'll tell me before too long.

After taking my tempterature, just to be sure (I was normal), I turned on the computer, hoping to find someone online who could fill me in on my blank spots. I looked at the clock and was surprised to find it was almost three in the afternoon; I never sleep in! I must have gotten in really late the night before.

When the computer eventually booted up, the first person I tried to message was, as always Sam. She was not there. Minzy wasn't there either, and I thought I vaguely remembered her saying something about her cousin's birthday party being today or something. Having exhausted those possibilities, I turned my attention to the three or four flashing windows that had popped onto my screen; other people messaging me.

My minor fame at school rapidly jumpstarted my online life as well as my social life, causing a flurry of activity on my screen whenever I started text messenger. Most of the people who messaged me were random internet geeks and most of the time I had no idea who I was talking to. Occassionally I'd recognize a name from school, but usually I just had to pretend I knew who they were and not say anything with more than one syllable. This was just as well as usually these conversations consisted of a "hey" from both parties, a "what's up?" and "nm" from both in turn, and a variation of "cool cool" and/or "icic" from either/both parties before the conversation faded to a minimized window where it was soon abandonned by both parties. Today was no exception, as I was cheerfully greeted by "Chewy_Gumball", "Quaker499_", and "Jimbo________Dentist". I found it funny that these people assumed I knew who they were yet gave no indication of their true identity in any way. After the standard trade off of abbreviations, with a few "lol"s thrown in because I was not in a good mood, the conversations prompty died and all was well.

I was about to shut off the computer when someone new messaged me.

BlondCutie794 says:

Hey!

EwanJackson says:

Hey

I responded with solemn curtesy, keeping dignity while offering an entrance to the conversation. My use of a capital "H" (which I don't use for just anyone) shows that I am interested in an intelligent conversation, if warrented, but my lack of end punctuation leaves the conversation open for lax grammer if necessary. I was surprised by the mystery messenger's use of an exclamation mark, a risky business when you don't know who you're talking to.

BlondCutie794 says:

What's up?

EwanJackson says:

Not much

Again, I didn't limit myself to puncuation but maintained the capitalization standard. I like capitalization, it just looks much better.

BlondCutie794 says:

You have no idea who this is do you?

It's not often someone gives me the opportunity to admit I'm in the dark, and when they do I like to be honest since chances are they're someone I should know.

EwanJackson says:

No, I have no idea. Sorry

BlondCutie794 says:

LOL don't worry about it. It's Brittany.

Brittany? Oh, probably Minzy's friend Brittany. Wait, was she at the show last night? Yes? Maybe? Meh, maybe she'll mention it if she was there. She seems nice enough, I wonder why she's messaging me. She's really popular, I believe, so it's unlikely that she's just "fanning".

EwanJackson says:

Ooooooohhhhh! Hey Brittany!

BlondCutie794 says:

LOL hey

EwanJackson says:

So did you want anything in particular or were you just saying hi?

BlondCutie794 says:

Oh you know, just saying hi.

EwanJackson says:

Cool cool

BlondCutie794 says:

Are you okay after last night? You were pretty shot LOL

Shot? What does she mean by that? Like, tired? Hopefully she'll say more without me seeming too interested.

EwanJackson says:

LOL, yeah I'm okay

BlondCutie794 says:

That's good LOL

EwanJackson says:

LOL

The excess number of "LOL"s was customary. I have no idea why they're used, no one actually "laughs out loud" ever, much less so many times over things that aren't even funny, but they serve as a buffer of sorts, I suppose. They've become customary at any rate, and an intrigal part of instant messaging with normal people. That's one of the reasons I love messaging with Sam so much, we don't need conventional stuff like LOLs or other abreviations, we can just have decent conversations with proper spelling and grammer. Brittany actually wasn't doing too badly, spelling-wise, but the LOLs were still necessary.

Here, the fact that LOL had appeared no less than four times in the last four messages was a sign that the conversation was very close to dying and the failure for either party to introduce a new topic within the three minutes of silence that followed the last LOL meant that it was time to put this conversation to rest.

The conversation had gone on too long to just be minimized and die. Since I was going anyway it was manditory to at least say a good bye of some sort before closing the window and signing off. I clicked on the window and was about to start typing something to the effect of "Well, g2g ttyl" when a new message flashed on the screen.

BlondCutie794 says:

So have any plans for tonight?

EwanJackson says:

Nope I'll probably just hang at home after last night

BlondCutie794 says:

Cool cool

I waited for more but when nothing came I assumed it was just a random question. At least she was trying to keep the conversation going, though, that was more effort than most put in once it was dying. It made me wish I didn't actually have to go so I could stick it out and see if the potential for a good conversation could actually be achieved. Sadly, I had to go though. I hadn't eaten since before the show and now, with it nearing four o'clock, I was getting pretty hungry. As I thought about food, I had a flash of memory that seemed.... vomitous. Did I throw up last night? Oh well, eating would clear my head, hunger was probably another reason I had this headache actually. I would come back to this conversational experiment with Brittany another time.

Once again I started to type that I was leaving, but once again a message beat cut me to the quick.

BlondCutie794 says:

So a bunch of us were going to go to a movie tonight you wanna come?

Ah, so there was something else. Well, a movie could be fun. It wasn't like I had anything else to do. Best not to commit without more details, though.

EwanJackson says:

Oh cool. Who's going? Like Minzy and them?

BlondCutie794 says:

Ummmm I'm not sure I didn't hear from her

Yeah, Minzy was definately at the birthday party. Well, it would be fun anyway. Give me a chance to get to know some of the people I see a lot of but never really talk to. What's this called again? Socializing? Yeah, should be fun.

EwanJackson says:

Okay, sure. What time?

There was a pause before the response came.

BlondCutie794 says:

6:30

EwanJackson says:

Okay. I gotta go now tho, cya later

BlondCutie794 says:

l8er

MR.MXYZPTLK

10-10-2005, 05:27 PM

yay that was quick

The chapter was pretty good the whole thing about "LOLS" actually did make me laugh out loud:) a bit short though:crying: but since there was really long chapter before it and you did this chapter in like one day you can sirtenly be forgiven ;)

Anyway bye bye and laugh out loud

Matt A

10-12-2005, 08:41 AM

You can always trust Ewan not to realise that he's hungover...reminds me of why it's so much fun to watch a cold-hearted anti-socialite like him go about his work.;) :anime: :evil:

-Matt A-

enigmatic_one

10-12-2005, 08:23 PM

Chapter 28

I closed the window and wondered if I would regret my decision to enter this social endeavour. I should have at least found out what movie it was, is there even anything good playing? Oh well, it'll probably be okay. For a second my heart skipped as I thought that maybe Sam would be included in the array of people I don't see much, but then I realized this was unlikely. Sam isn't in any of the major cliques, unfortunately leading to me not seeing her outside of the occassional hallway passing.

I sauntered into the kitchen, trying to keep my movements as fluid as possible as to not upset my head anymore than was necessary. If it was this bad at six there was no way I was going to be able to survive a loud theatre. I took out a bagel, something I rarely bothered with as I abhore breakfast, and buttered it before putting it in the microwave. Bagels aren't that bad actually. They're quick and easy to make if nothing else. They're pretty filling too though. I would have eaten anything at that point anyway.

When I was about half way through my second bagel I heard the door open and my mom came bustling into the kitchen. She had finished pouring herself a cup of coffee before she noticed I was in the room.

"Oh hi, honey, how are you?" she said, getting cold cuts from the fridge as she spoke.

"I'm okay, I think I'm sick though." I said, surprising myself with an unusually groggy voice. Usually I can speak quite well in the morning.

"Oh, that's not good." she said, making herself a sandwich at the counter. Saturday afternoons were always rushed for mom. She started work at eight and usually worked till three or four which is when she ate lunch. Then she hurried out again to make it for her second job which started at five, promptly. "Did you have some Tylonol?"

I shook my head but then realized that she had her back to me still. "No, we're out."

"I'll have to get some later..." she said, slowing down for the first time to write something on a small piece of paper she had produced from her pocket.

"I think I might just be tired, do you know what time I got in last night?"

The paper back in her pocket, she continued making her sandwich. "Last night? I didn't know you were out. You were home by two when I got home. Where were you?" she looked at me as she came to the table, sandwich in hand.

"I just went to a band thing with some friends. I left you a note after school." I looked to see that the note was still folded where I had left it.

"Oh sorry, honey." she said taking a bit of her sandwich. "I didn't end up getting my break yesterday evening so I wasn't home at all until two. Well was it fun?"

I nodded, finishing my bagel. "I think I might go to a movie later with some friends."

"Are you sure that's a good idea if you're sick?"

I shrugged. "I'm pretty sure I'm just tired or something. If I still have a headache I won't go."

Mom looked at me concerned while she finished chewing the bite she had in her mouth. "You've been out with friends a lot recently, it's not waering you out is it?"

I stood up "No mom, I'm fine, really. I'll see you when you get home later."

"Alright, honey." she said, getting up as well. It was quarter to five. "Well I'll get the Tylonol for you. If you're still sick don't go out, okay?"

"Okay mom." I said, wearily. "I won't."

At six fifteen my headache had not completely left, but it wasn't throbbing as much, so I deemed myself officially well and headed for the movie theatre.

The theatre is only a couple blocks away from my house so I was able to walk. I could have ran, I suppose, but there wasn't any hurry and that much movement would have most likely provoced another bout of head pains, so I walked.

We were having an unusually mild winter. It was only mid-November but instead of the usual heavy snow we were experiencing only a brisk chillyness every now and then. Occassionally it was even warm. I didn't even need a jacket as I walked along the chalky sidewalk. As I got closer the wind picked up a bit and I wished I had brought one, but I'm quite good at ignoring coldness. I noted that dark clouds canopied the evening sky, making it seem much later than it was. A storm was coming.

I arrived at the movie theatre at exactly six thirty. Most of the movies we were likely to see didn't start until seven or later so I assumed we were plenty early to give late comers the chance to show up, but that most people would be here by now. When I got inside to the lobby there were multiple groups of teenagers milling about and chatting loudly, but I didn't see anyone I recognized.

Brittany tapped me on the back, making me start loudly. "Woah, calm down!" she said, laughing. "It's just me."

I turned around and laughed at myself for having such a big reaction. "Hey, Brit"

Brittany smiled and looked at me with her eyebrows raised. "Hey Ewan."

I looked around and found that we seemed alone in the midst of clamouring groups. "Where's everyone else."

Brittany looked kind of worried. "Well, I wasn't able to get a hold of as many people as I thought and the ones I did weren't sure they could make it on such short notice. There's a few people who're bound to show up though, they're just a little late. It's only six thirty right now."

I nodded. "I like to be punctual."

Brittany smiled and let out a nervous laugh as if she wasn't sure what I meant by that.

"So who is it exactly that's supposed to be coming?"

"Errr, I don't think you know them." said Brittany, turning away from me. "Um, Alan and Carey? And I think Donald's coming too."

I nodded, although I had no idea who any of these people were.

We waited mostly in silence. I think Brittany found it a bit awkward, but I didn't mind. It gave me a chance to think a bit. I haven't been able to do as much thinking as I would like, of late.

At ten after seven we were still the only ones who had shown up. At quarter after we decided that we were the only ones who were going to show up. Brittany apologized several times, but I didn't really care. It wasn't like I knew any of these people anyway. She asked if I wanted to see the movie anyway and I agreed since I was already here and she seemed really upset about the whole thing, so the least I could do was stick around.

We decided that "Hyperman Revenges" looked like the best of the limited options we had to choose from, and it started in five minutes so it was also the most convenient after waiting for forty-five minutes already. It wasn't until she took my hand and led me into the darkening theatre that I realized how short the skirt she was wearing was.

We sat near the back close to the aisle, I reasoned that it was the best place to be in case anyone ended up showing up after all, although I didn't give it much hope, or much thought really either way. I noted that my headache was starting to come back and I wondered whether a high special effects action movie was that best thing to see after all. The headache was getting worse already and the movie still hadn't started yet.

This is stupid, I thought. I really don't want to get sick and nobody showed up anyway. I feel bad about bailing on Brittany and leaving her here by herself, but this really isn't a good idea if I want to be feeling up to school on Monday. Besides, if I leave right now I can probably get my money back for the ticket and then use it to buy asperin.

After rethinking everything to make sure it was the best plan, a feat increasingly difficult with the headache that was approaching a pain threshold even worse than when I woke up, I concreted that I would leave. I turned to explain and apologise to Brittany but when she came into my sight, I saw that she was already turned, staring right at me.

I tried to open my mouth to speak, but something about the way she was looking at me just made me freeze. There was a spark in her eye, something that compelled me to stare back in wonder. What was going on?

After a moment of staring at each other she sighed and opened her mouth, her lips seemed imcredibley moist. "Ewan, I have a confession to make."

Still I could not speak, nor give any indication that I had even heard her.

"Ewan, nobody is going to be coming late. Nobody was ever going to be coming. Just me and you."

I felt my eyebrow frown in confusion. No one else had been invited? Why not? This didn't make sense, but still I could not speak.

"Ewan," she said, sighing again and licking her lips to stall for time. "I wanted us to be alone tonight."

Again I was perplexed. "Wh...why?" I managed at last.

"Because...." she looked down, faltering for words. When she brought her head up again she came closer to me, leaning in and looking directly into my eyes. Her eyes were entoxicating. I could feel her breath on my chin. After what seemed like ages, she opened her mouth to speak, but then she didn't.

The next thing I felt were her lips touching mine.

MR.MXYZPTLK

10-13-2005, 03:50 AM

wow ewans definetly not a geek anymore:D

this may be my fav chapter so far which is saying something there hasn't bee one chapter I haven't liked GO EWAN!

Matt A

10-13-2005, 12:08 PM

When will people learn that trying to pull Ewan is a bad idea? I mean, fair play to him for managing to score without even realising it, but I get the feeling that this can only end in disaster. Especially considering the titanic scale of his social incompetence.;) :evil:

But seriously, that chapter was indeed hysterically funny. I had my suspicions that Britney was going to try that at the end of the last chapter, which meant that as this one drew on, my suspicions only intensified. By the point of the "short skirt" line, I was certain...and nearly pissing myself laughing. How could he not realise it either? Actually, that's what made it so funny. I'm a git like that.;) :evil:

Anyway, exceptional work there. Not like that's unusual or anything...;) :anime:

-Matt A-

enigmatic_one

10-13-2005, 02:06 PM

Glad you liked it boys :D :D ;)

I possibley have another chapter done already.... Technically it is done but it's really short and I can't decide if I like it like that or if I want to segway right into what would otherwise be concidered the next chapter. So maybe, (short) chapter later today, if not, possible long chapter later today, if not, long chapter soon. ;)

~Enigmatic One

enigmatic_one

10-13-2005, 04:29 PM

Chapter 29

Sex. Even the word sounds hostile. If there was a word that could sucessfully summarize everything that's gone horribley wrong with society today, I think it would be it.

It scurges through all outlets of our civillization. School, the workplace, casual conversation, clothing, advertising, all realms of media; it's become the dominant theme of Western culture. It drives the plots of most teen comedies. Sitcoms rely on inuendo and implication for humour. Music videos are nothing more than an excuse for pornography. Fashion promotes women using their bodies as bait, playing to man's highly promoted sense of lust. "Dancing" is nothing more than public sex tolerated only because clothes are still present, although again, with fashion as it is, clothes aren't always necessarily present. Most profanities have their roots regarding sex. One of the most talked about subjects is sex. Rape, molestation, sexual abuse, stalking, incest, all horrible things that stem from sex. What was once a sacred and precious thing has been corrupted and overused to the point that is no longer special, but horrid.

Divorce rates are up at increasing, unprecedented rates. What's the number one cause for divorce, directly or indirectly? Sex. One spouse gets tired of the other's "performance in bed". Sex becomes the most important thing in the relationship and trust, companionship, and sincerity are all thrown out the window. A husband is tempted with sex and becomes unfaithful. A couple has sex early in their relationship and mistakes sex for love, years after they get married the truth sinks in. It all boils down to the misuse of sex.

The thing that perhaps infuriates me most about sex is the fact that people are doing it more and more and at earlier ages all the time. Statistics show that most teenagers claim to have had sex by the age of sixteen. By the age of eighteen, most teenagers have actually had sex. This not only reduces the integrity of sex itself, but also that of relationships as a whole. Now there is no as trust, finding a companion who you can share your intimate thoughts with, all people think about when searching for a date is the potential for sex. Once on the date, sex is constantly on the mind, and more often than not, not just on the mind. Everything is manipulated to keep the other person happy, not because of love or actual concern, but to continue to have chances or endeavours with sex.

Not only all this, but because of sex, my generation has completely lost the respect of everyone above the age of twenty five. Well, I suppose I can't really blame that completely on sex, it's probably mostly because my generation consists of imbecilic bags of mostly water.

Still, sex sucks.

On that note, no, Brittany and I did not sleep together that night.

MR.MXYZPTLK

10-14-2005, 06:53 AM

it was good but it didn't seem like a chapter it seemed like a paragraph still it was nice to see Ewans veiw on sex

enigmatic_one

10-18-2005, 03:24 PM

Chapter 30

I pulled away from Brittany. "What was that?"

Brittany giggled. "We kissed." she licked her lips. "And it was wonderful."

She leaned in to kiss me again but I stopped her. This wasn't right, I didn't kiss people, but she had just kissed me! And it was wonderful.... But I hardly knew this girl! But, those lips... She really was hot. But Sam! No, I was in love with Sam! But Sam has no idea, and she's in love with Brad. But I love her, and that's all that matters and maybe someday..... But Brittany is so hot, and she wants to kiss me again! But Sam is perfect. Except she doesn't love me. Perhaps she doesn't even like me as a friend, it's not exactly like she ever makes an effort to message me online. Maybe I'm just an annoying little kid to her. No, that can't be, we have incredible conversations. But she loves Brad. And Brittany is right here....

It's amazing how much thought can go by in a second. I've come to the inevitible conclusion, after many nights of thinking on the subject, that time is nothing more than the unit of measurement used to measure thought. Well, perhaps not time itself, but the perception of time, time in memory. That's all that time really is though, time in memory. It's a concept, but the only record we have of its existance is memory, which is highly flawed and measures time only in thoughts. Or perhaps it measures thoughts by time. Both seem logical. The point is that thoughts and time are intimately aquainted.

Think about it. When you are watching a movie that's really captivating, something that ceases your attention and never lets your mind wander, the movie can be three hours long but at the end of it you don't feel that any time has passed at all. That's because during the movie you did not think. When you're waiting for something or bored, time seems to drag on forever, never getting to what you want it to. That's because your mind isn't preoccupied at all and all you have is a steady stream of thought, measuring out lots of time. Sleep, the total absence of thought, excluding dreams. When one is asleep and not dreaming, one has no concept of time passing at all. You can fall asleep and wake up nine hours later thinking only a minute has passed. That's also why dreams always seem to occur right before you wake up. They don't necessarily happen then, but between when you wake up and when the dream ends you have no memory of time, so it seems as if the dream has just finished.

Thought itself, however, is timeless. In an instance one can experience thoughts that would take hours to explain out loud. Essentially, time has no bearing on thoughts, but time; thoughts are time. Thus, looking back on the evening later that night, the time after we kissed seemed to take forever, but in fact everything I was thinking took place in less time than it took to stop Brittany from kissing me a second time and then lean into her again without it seeming unnatural. The second time we kissed was even better, and when I tried to remember it later that night it was as if it didn't happen.

Brittany pulled back a second time, breathing slightly heavily. "Wow, you are good at this. You must be a quick learner."

I almost smiled, but couldn't bring my face to show emotion of any kind. I couldn't speak either, dispite what may have been a rash action, in my head my inner conflict still raged as when the meeting winds contest their strength.

Brittany raised her eyebrow. "Then again, I've been told I'm a good teacher." she looked at her watch. "At any rate there's no point in staying for the movie. I've already seen it and it's crap." she got up and started to leave but then reached back to me and pulled my head to her mouth one last time. She pulled away with her eyes still closed. "Mmmm, you're yummy. I'll see you Monday, Ewan." she winked and was gone.

I stayed for the movie anyway. I couldn't have moved at that point anyway even if I wanted to. For the next hour and fourty minutes I sat frozen in my seat without even changing my expression. Later that night, it seemed much longer than an hour and fourty minutes. I was completely torn, unable to rid myself of the marvellous sensation of Brittany's lips and feeling really, really happy, but I knew. I knew even then that I had made a terrible mistake, that this would come to no good. I just didn't believe myself. When I finally left the movie theatre and started walking home, the rain had started.

I made it through Sunday morning without thinking about it too much. Well, not really. I didn't think about it as much as I had the previous night at 3:00 AM, though. By lunchtime I had not only come to any decent conclusion, I didn't even know what my options were or what exactly was expected of me.

I didn't really know much about Brittany other than what I had found out from her in our limited conversations of yesterday, but I was pretty sure that I wasn't the first guy she'd kissed. You don't make it to grade nine being as attractive as she is without getting kissed. Plus the way in which our kiss came about seemed to speak for itself, in retrospect. She'd definately done this before. So what exactly did that mean for me? Did she concider us "going out" now? Was this something that was important to her? Did she even care at this point? Did I even care at this point?

That was probably what I struggled with the most. I had never dated anyone in my life, never even concidered it until recently, and yet I knew I was in love with Sam. Well, I was pretty sure I was. But what is "love", really? I mean, I cared for her, certainly, and loved every second I spent with her, but is that love? Is that something really all that special? Can it even be concidered love if she obviously doesn't love me?

Yes.

I think.

I had too many questions and not enough insight to make answers for myself. By the time I had finished eating, I knew what my next step was. I had to talk to Brittany.

Before the messenger window had even fully loaded a conversation box flashed onto my screen.

BlondCutie794 says:

Hey there Cutie

I froze. I had no idea what to respond with. I didn't want to commit myself at all, but.... I mean.... Well maybe it wasn't a bad idea. Maybe I deserved a companion for once, someone who I could really talk to. And if that person was incredibely hot, what's wrong with that?

I looked at my list of messenger contacts. Sam, who had recently changed her username to SamLovesBrad, was set to away. I decided to give her one last chance to be awesome and take away all doubts. I quickly typed "Hey" and for a second, I knew whatever Sam said would be perfect. She didn't respond. I sighed and looked back on the conversation with Brittany that sat screaming for me to reply to. I typed slowly.

EwanJackson says:

Hey Gorgeous

And that was all it took. A few minutes, fewer words, and lots of LOLs later, I had a girlfriend. Not just any girlfriend, probably the hottest girl in the school. A lot of guys would do anything to be able to say that, and I was very excited. I think. I'm not sure why I kept bringing up the window in which I had messaged Sam, I knew she hadn't responded.

It's really just the logical decision, when you look at things from a stand back position. Brittany had obviously had feelings for me, and she took a chance. I respect that. She had already proved herself an excellent kisser, and the conversation we had was decent. Not everyone is good at spelling, after all, it's really not fair to judge people on that. I'd have to get to know her better before I could really tell stuff like that anyway. We were set to meet each other before school Monday, so I would get the chance to find out more about her then.

I flipped randomly through a book, it had been so long since I'd read anything! It was really wierd, now that I realized it, although for the past few weeks, I hadn't missed it at all. Funny how things are.

I started reading a couple lines, not because I particularly felt like it, but I felt somewhat guilty I guess. I couldn't though. Things were too wierd. As much as I already had in the past twenty four hours, I desperately needed to think. I had a girlfriend? A really hot girlfriend? Everything was so bizarre. I had a girlfriend. A really hot girlfriend. And she wasn't Sam.

That's what scared me the most. What did I have to be scared about though? Sam loved Brad. She loved him. Not me, Brad. And he loves her. No, no he doesn't. He doesn't even know the meaning of the word. How can she possibley love an imbecilic... Dude, you've never even met the guy. You have no proof, no means, not even any logic with which to make a claim like that. Yet I know it's true. He doesn't love her.

I couldn't sleep that night either. There's definately a corrolation between thinking and insomnia. Does that mean time takes longer when you have insomnia? Is that what makes insomnia keep you from sleeping? It's not really anything, you're just thinking and so time takes too long, and you can't fall asleep unless time is fast? That would make sense. Because sleep is the absence of thought, so you need time to get really fast and eventually pass from consciousness in order to sleep. That actually makes a lot of sense. So if I didn't think so much, I'd be able to sleep right away. No wonder most of the world falls asleep without any difficulty.

MR.MXYZPTLK

10-19-2005, 02:26 PM

very good chapter I don't have much else to say but very good

Matt A

10-20-2005, 12:39 PM

Ahh, Ewan just cracks me up. Both of the last two chapters perfectly illustrate the kind of anti-social balls he can still come out with, despite the unbelievable run of good luck he's managed to have. I wonder where else you'll take his significantly odd thoughts...;) :anime: :evil:

-Matt A-

enigmatic_one

11-04-2005, 09:35 PM

Chapter 31

"Ewan, get out of bed! You're going to be late for school!" Coldness, no clean socks, and hazlenut bagels; within ten minutes of waking up I knew this day would come to no good.

When I reached the sink to brush my teeth, I once again remembered that we were out of toothpaste. We had about five tubes scattered around the sink, but all of these were essentially done for. For the past three days I had been able to strain traces of paste from various tubes after vigorous kneading, but it didn't look good for today. I noticed one tube that had been ignored by me up till now, it didn't look too full either but the cap was still on, unlike the other tubes who were covered with naught but a crust of dried toothpaste around the rim, so I took it as a good sign that there was some hope. Clenching my toothbrush with the same hand, I twisted the crusty cap off of the tube. An earwig fell from the mouth of the tube into the sink. I don't have the slightest idea how it got in there or how it stayed alive, but an earwig came out of my toothpaste tube. All hopes of the day being good were forsaken then and there.

I walked off the stoop into the pouring rain, it had been going at it for almost two days now without a break. I was forced to improvise, skipping and jumping my way over higher ground to avoid the torrents that draped across the sidewalk on their cruise to the drain, which was overflooded by now.

As wet as it was, I remained largely oblivious to any sort of dampness on my body. It may have been because I became completely and irrevocabely drenched within the first two seconds of stepping outside, and afterwards couldn't remember a time when I was dry, so it didn't seem odd. It's more likely, however, that my mind was far too preoccupied to waste resources monitoring the condition of my own putrid shell. As illogical as it was, I just couldn't shake the feeling that there was a reason why I shouldn't go out with Britney.

Using the curb, I propelled myself over the flooded patch of grass that littered the front of the school yard. There were enough broken squares of pavement that remained barely above the waterlevel for me to hop my way across the veritible marsh to the concrete steps that led to the door. Rain was the one time we were allowed inside school before the morning bell, but even then we were confined to the porch area just inside the grey doors.

I stepped into the dusty porch, aware for the first time of how wet I was as water coursed off of me onto what had once been a dry floor.

"Ewan!" two damp arms assulted me at once, followed by two painted lips. As startled as I was, I will admit I felt conciderabley less cold and wet almost at once. Britney pulled away from me and stood with her hand on her hip, smiling suggestively. "So what's new?"

I shrugged, unable to keep myself from smiling. "Not much, just you."

Britney let out a slight squeal of glee and wrapped her arms around me once more; I held her at her waist. "So how about this rain, huh?" she said, looking outside from over my shoulder. I let go of her, turning to glance at the streaking windows; nothing was visible other than the constant rushing water that covered the glass.

"Yeah," I replied. "It's pretty crazy."

"It's supposed to go on for another two days." said one of Britney's friends who was hanging nearby, along with a few dozen other students who were also perched in this porch, waiting for the bell. "It's supposed to be the biggest storm to hit here in decades."

Britney laughed "Yeah, what you believe the weather people? Since when have they been right, huh Ewan?"

I murmered a grunt of agreement, transfixed by the swirling patterns the stagnant drops made on the window. I may have also still been in a slight daze from the kiss.

"So, uh, Ewan, you want to get together after school today? Say at my house around four?"

I turned from the window, forcing myself to come out of my daze and look at Britney who was still smiling, she seemed rather amused by me. "Uh, yeah, sounds good." I smiled, taken in by her grin. She stepped toward me again and put her hand on my chest.

"Good. I'll see you then." she kissed me again. The bell rang, and Britney tore away. "Good bye, babe." she said, blowing a kiss through the air, and then was gone with the same haste of the waves washing the window.

I wafted slowly through the halls, allowing myself mainly to be pushed on by the crowd. Why had I been concerned about this? Britney was a wonderful girl. Her tactics may have been a bit shrewd at first, but she was really bold to do something like that and you've gotta respect that. She's just very forward, there's nothing wrong with that. It's rather attractive, really. There's no reason on earth why Britney and I couldn't have a great time together!

By the time I was deposited at homeroom, I had erased all traces of doubt. I was going out with Britney.

I sat down in my usual seat next to Minzy, who was non-chalantly brushing her hair. "Hey Ewan, what's new?"

"I'm going out with Britney." I repeated out loud, largely for my own benefit.

Minzy froze in mid-brush "What?"

I blinked, focusing my eyes, and addressed her directly. "I'm going out with Britney."

"My Britney?" she said, astonished.

I nodded. "Britney from the show."

Minzy looked at me skeptically. "Ewan, what do you mean you're going out with her? You don't even know her."

"I do somewhat." I said, not feeling a need to defend myself but wanting to make sure she understood all the same. "I've been talking to her on Instant Messenger, and then she asked me to a movie, and then she kissed me, and now we're going out."

"Ewan," Minzy began,

"Shhhhh!" Mr. Illuvitar stared menacingly at us and then went back to taking attendence. Normally that would be enough to shut up any kid in the school, but this was important. Minzy lowered her voice and continued.

"Ewan, you have to realize who Britney is, you really don't know her yet. She does this sort of thing all the time!"

"What," I said challengingly, "Are you saying she's a slut?"

"Of course not, Ewan, she's my friend." said Minzy, getting frustrated and clearly not liking the lack of control she had. "I'm just saying.... She's impulsive. If you get to know her better you'll understand, just.... She isn't the right girl for you."

"Are you saying I'm not impulsive? Are you saying I don't live in the moment? Maybe you don't know me as well as you think, Minzy. I happen to think she's a fine girl for me.

"Ewan, don't make this a personal attack, I'm just saying that this isn't a good idea and you should really think about it before making a hasty decision."

I couldn't help but laugh. "You think I haven't thought about it? You think I just come to a conclusion like this without lying awake for two straight nights dwelling on every possibility?"

MInzy looked at me sarcastically. "Oh yes, I forgot, you do live in the moment, don't you?"

I stood up coldly, Mr. Illuvitar having finished the roll call and dismissed us. "I'll see you later Minzy. When I want your advice I'll ask for it, thanks."

I walked briskly to the door, forcing myself not to hear whatever else Minzy might say. I had already struggled with this enough within my own head, I didn't need a friend to personify those feelings. I was at the door before I heard Minzy's voice, all attempts at blocking out sound immediently folded.

"Ewan." I stopped, torn between wanting to apologise and wanting to forget about everything. I turned to look at her. She was standing up next to her desk. She looked exactly the same, except her eyes. Her eyes held a haunted shroud as if this was the last thing she wanted to say.

She took a breath and trembled slightly. "What about Sam?"

I held her eye for moment that seemed an eternity, and in that moment, I know I shared the same haunted look. Then I turned and walked out. This was stupid, I was not going there again. I had come to terms with Sam. She was in a relationship, she didn't love me, and she gave no indication that I was anything more than an annoying little kid who messaged her too much and bothered her in the halls. I don't even think I loved her. I mean, I thought I did, but in all probability it was just some manifestation of my loniness forcing itself upon me as a sort of safeguard to protect my inner anxieties. I didn't really want to be in a relationship, so my mind chose someone who was both perfect and impossible to obsess over so I'd feel as if I was doing something anyway, dispite the hoplessness of everything. It really makes sense actually. And I mean, what is love anyway? Who am I to say I'm in love with Sam Williams? I mean, it's really quite ridiculas. To use that as a reason not to date someone who clearly has a great deal of interest in you, well it is stupid. And illogical. There's absolutely no reason why i should have ever even thought about this at all, let alone this much. I mean....

"Hey!" There she was; Sam, her dark hair shimmering as she speeded towards me and a smile lighted on her face that beat the high of any kiss ten times over. Hey eyes sparkled with summertime and roared with excitement.

"Hey!" I said, trying to smile before she passed. Our eyes met for a second before she was swept away and I thought my knees were going to callapse. I pivoted as she passed and followed her down the hall with my eyes for six seconds before tripping backwards and hitting my head on the stairs. I so love that girl.

Matt A

11-06-2005, 10:28 AM

Good to have you back, Mr Enigma. For perhaps the first time, I think I actually vaguely like Ewan at this point: I mean, he's actually done something smart at last! Maybe it'll all blow up in his face - which seems likely, but hey ho - but at least he's actually doing something with what he's got. I get the feeling that he'd have probably turned Britney down at the start of this story, or at least given into the doubts afterwards. But he's not being an anti-social little gobsh*te now, and I actually like him for that. Strange, but true.;) :anime:

-Matt A-

MR.MXYZPTLK

11-06-2005, 10:33 AM

I actually hated Ewan In this chapter I want him and Sam to be together:mad: :anime:

Dr. OneWay

11-08-2005, 07:57 PM

I just printed out the 1st four chapters (The total number of pages needed for your story is 65,000. Get the picture!). I'm leaving on a trip tomorrow, so I will read those chapters. It sounds really good already!

Darth-geister

11-15-2005, 10:41 AM

I never read many stories but this one is really awesome, very cool work.:)

enigmatic_one

11-24-2005, 02:47 PM

Hey everyone! It's been a long time, so just a few things:

First of all I changed a word in the second last paragraph of the last chapter to make it more clear, there seems to have been some confusion as to who the girl was.

To my new readers, welcome! I hope you enjoy what is to come and thank you for the kind words.

And now what everyone is waiting for: the new chapter. It is not yet done, but i am working on it even now and with luck it shall be done tonight! Sorry for the long wait, I shall blame my girlfriend for the lack of free time (:p ).

~Enigmatic One

MR.MXYZPTLK

11-25-2005, 02:05 PM

Kind of a stupid question but its been bugging me for a while what country does ewan live in?

enigmatic_one

11-25-2005, 02:18 PM

Technically it's Canada, but it could be pretty much any country. Some of the school stuff is based on stuff I know about, having gone through school in Canada, so it might be different then stuff somewhere else. That's the only real thing that makes it a specific place though.

~Enigmatic One

JTX

01-08-2006, 12:25 PM

Give him time man, you know that when writing something is really hard to get ideas. And my question for you is......where's your script? I know you have posted but i feel that it was really too short at least 3 pages you would have done.

Oh and if Welshie you are watching please don't put "That's an excellent question" Is like you are spamming dude.

enigmatic_one

01-26-2006, 01:57 PM

Chapter 32

I stood outside Britney's house and raised my fisted hand in preparation to knock. After about a half second I lowered it again. Rain spattered my cold fist. This was futile. There was absolutely nothing I could do at this point and I had to see it through. It was my own fault for getting into this situation when I knew it was hopeless and now I was just going to have to deal with it. Yet there was nothing I wanted less right now then to knock on this door.

I knocked on the door. Britney opened it almost immediately. "Ewan!" she beemed. "How ya doin', love?"

"Hi." I said unenthusiastically. She leaned in and started kissing me but pulled away when I didn't respond.

"Ewan? Are you okay?" she said, sounding slightly concerned.
I sighed slowly. "I'm fine." I said, attempting to smile, but coming off probably more like a grimace.

Britney smiled again "Okay then. Come on, take your coat off, you're soaking wet! What kind of jacket is this anyway? It's more like a sweater if you ask me!" I let her take my wet jacket away and slowly shuffled off my shoes. As much as I was trying, I found it impossible to display any sort of emotion.

"So this is sort of like our second date, huh?" said Britney, even more perky than usual. "We are, like, going to have so much fun!"

Britney stared across the glass coffee table into my eyes, no longer smiling. I sat opposite her on the other couch, staring vaguely in her direction, my eyes seeing past her. I was sitting very hunched over, my hands clasped together in front of me and leaning heavily on my knees. Britney's arms were crossed.
She sighed, not the contented sort of happy sigh that one wishes to hear from a girlfriend, but a very bored, loathing everything sort of sigh. I waited a few minutes for good measure and then sighed myself, a lighter sigh than hers yet not exactly a happy sigh either. I was hoping it would convey deep thought, but I've not had an overly large amount of experience in the art of sighing.

I was in deep thought. Well, not really in thought as much as in my mind. I was through thinking, I had thought all day. I had thought through math and social studies and english, I'm not even sure what I passed in for that in-class assignment. All day everything had been done in automatic as all conscious brain power was allocated to the very depths of my warped mind. I was thinking about Sam.

I won't bother writing exactly what I had been thinking, it was just the same stuff over and over again, going in circles for hours. The same stuff I had been thinking about the previous day, all night, the stuff I had resolved not to think about any more, the stuff I had decided on, the stuff that I had made the wrong decision about. The bottom line was, there was no way I could be in a relationship with the highly attractive girl who was sitting across from me this very moment chewing gum.

"Trident?" She asked, looking hopeless. I wanted to take it from her, I really did. Especially the way she was looking at me right now, trying one last, futile time to communicate how much she wanted me this very second. I couldn't take it though. I'm in love with Sam Williams. I shook my head "no".

After I had decided I had wasted enough of her time I took my coat and left her house. When I had said I was gonna head home she had merely nodded her head in cold disgust, staying put on the couch. I expected her to stay there as I found my coat myself and headed towards the porch, and didn't expect less of her. There really wasn't any excuse for the way I had completely withdrawn myself. She did show up just before I walked outside the door though.

"Instant message me when you get home." was all she said before I stepped back out into the rain. I had forgotten what wet was like, but I was soon reminded completely. Actually, my jacket was still wet in a gross way from when I had arrived. It really is more of a sweater.

It was a hard walk home; the sewers were flooded by now, leaving not only a good portion of the road and gutters flooded, but also most of the sidewalks an inch or two under the water level. I had to hop and leap my way across the watery obstacle course, finding only a dry patch here or a elevated surface there to aid me in my quest for dry feet. I had made it all the way to the end of my street without stepping in any large puddles yet, and aside from a small patch at my ankle, my feet remained undrenched. And then the car came.

The cruising, red, station wagon came streaking down the street towards me. I had just observed that right next to me on the street, there was a dip in the road, resulting in a large puddle of accumulated water that was much denser than the rest of the average water level on the rest of the street. I paused looking up at the car coming towards me, it's windshield wipers blaring through the downpour. It didn't occur to me to move until after I was dripping. As the car passed me, the tires shattered the ocean that rested on the pavement next to me, and with one swift, gravity-defying motion, created a tidal wave that swept up off the road and drenched me completely. Every ounce of skin, every inch of clothing, all of it was now one with the water. Then I gave up. No more reckless skipping about trying to save my dignity. Resignedly I hung my head, gave it a shake to try to get rid of some of the water that was dripping rapidly from my hair. Then I trudged home, dragging my feet through puddle after puddle. I was through.

Matt A

01-27-2006, 07:14 AM

You're back! Sweet!:anime::anime::anime:

Ewan. Is. Such. A. Moron. Seriously, can the guy not drown every piece of good fortune that comes his way? But at least he hasn't dumped her...yet.;)

Maybe that chapter was too short. But maybe not. To be honest, dragging that scene out any longer would have made it nigh-on unbearable to read, if you get my meaning. I don't like those kinds of awkward situations, at least not in person.;)

-Matt A-

MR.MXYZPTLK

02-04-2006, 05:52 AM

its back i was loosing hope:D

and its good! But like welshie said a bit too short....wow not much I really have to say but good job

enigmatic_one

02-16-2006, 07:10 PM

Chapter 33

"You have zero new messages." Flashed the screen of my computer as I signed into Instant Messenger. I sipped the apple juice I had gotten in an attempt to make myself feel better and scrolled through the list of screen names until I found Britney.

EwanJackson says:

Hey there

An auto response flashed on my screen. meaning that Britney was not actually at her computer, but had left a message to be automatically relayed to me when I messaged her.

BlondCutie794:
[auto response] Hi hon, just gone out with my gals, I'll get back to you when I get back. xoxo

I rethought the entire, ugly situation I was presented with. Britney liked me, and we were apparently now going out. As hot as Britney might be, I'm still hopelessly in love with Sam. Sam likes me as a friend, although she may just be humouring me, and is also highly conveniently in love with Brad. Brad may be in love with her, or think he is, yet I have an irrepressible feeling that he doesn't really care about her. So now I must somehow see if Sam has any feelings for me at all, as completely unlikely as that may be, and not crush Britney completely in the meantime.
I leaned back in my chair, placing my feet comfortabley up on my desk. I picked up my current book, "Treks Across Obelex Twelve", and took another sip of apple juice. I really wish I had a donut right now... I thought to myself, wishing I could stop thinking about everything for just a few moments. I read silently, rocking slightly back and forth in my chair, slowly lulling myself into a rythm, into a dowsy semi-consciousness, into closing my eyes - just for a moment, into getting more and more out of touch with my thoughts and time, into...

A piercing blurt of jagged sound jarred me into alertness. At first I thought it was my alarm, something I rarely had the necessity to use but an item with fearful connotations nonetheless. I look around in panic, worried that I have somehow slept throughout the night, and spy a flashing light on my computer screen, indicating that the sound was merely alerting me of a new message from someone. So Britney has returned.... I thought to myself, clicking to accept the new message. I was startled and even overwhelmed by an immediate surge of conflicting emotions when I saw that the respondent was not Britney after all, but that a conversation had been started by someone who never started conversations with me.

SamLovesBrad says:

Ewan?

I gawked at the screen; this couldn't be. In the two years I had known her, Sam had never messaged me once without me messaging first. We rarely talked as it was, not through lack of trying on my part, and any time we did chat it was I who started the conversation. For a moment, a jubulation shot through my body as if this instigation of speech proved thoroughly that Sam's conversations with me were not the product of pity on her part, but that she actually enjoyed them! Could this mean she really did think of me as a friend, or what's more could possibley have feelings for me beyond that?

My excitement dwindled when the heavy weight of reality settled once more and I remembered that many other forces were in play, and I was obviously being horribley naive. Still, I couldn't help but feel a slight air of satisfaction, if only for being acknowledged by the girl I loved. I quickly answered her, wanting to maintain my nonchalantness.

EwanJackson says:

Sam!

SamLovesBrad says:
How's it going, tiger?

EwanJackson says
Can't complain. What's new and/or exciting in the life of Sam Williams, the most beautiful girl in 9 FW?

SamLovesBrad says:
Not much at all, although I wouldn't say such lofty (though flattering ;)) words, my dear, you know Britney's in 9 FW too.

Any excitement I had felt was instantly killed. I had half-hoped Sam hadn't heard about Britney and I, although rumours about us had immediately devoured the school, no doubt. I sat reading Sam's messages, my heart sinking further and further.

SamLovesBrad says:

I hear you two make quite a cute couple. :) That's awesome!

EwanJackson says
Yeah, it's cool.

SamLovesBrad says:

I'm sure you're going to be really happy together. You're such a sweet guy, Ewan, she better appreciate what a great guy she's found. ;)

EwanJackson says
Yeah.

I had gone from being ecstatic about talking to Sam to now wishing I was dead. This was possibley the worst thing she could be saying to me right now. My heart no longer with me, I continued talking in brief, agreeing sentences, letting the cold, anymosity of text messaging mask the anguish I was suffering through. At one point it was so bad, I concidered just coming out with it and telling her I was completely enamoured by her, but luckily I came to my senses before ruining things. I was still bitterly dying inside when our conversation took an unexpected turn.

SamLovesBrad says:

So, any new theories about your future self?

EwanJackson says
What?

SamLovesBrad says:

Mr. Drofloc!

EwanJackson says
Ohhhhhh

Things had been so crazy lately that I had completely forgotten about Mr. Drofloc, my time travel theories, and most other things that wouldn't be concidered normal by most teens. As it all drifted back into my mind, it seemed so ridiculas that I had ever spent time thinking about it at all. There was no way Mr. Drofloc was me, there wasn't any evidence at all. It was all coincidences, and not even very big ones! Lots of people like jazz, lots of people have similar hand writing, why on earth had I suddenly jumped to the conclusion that he must be me? Stupid, stupid Ewan... Plus you went and told Sam all about it, so she definately thinks you're insane. Good job all around, you really cracked the case on this one.

Ewan Jackson says:

Yeah, I kind of forgot about that.

SamLovesBrad says:

What? Why?

EwanJackson says:
I don't know, don't you think it's kind of silly?

SamLovesBrad says:

It made sense to me.

This was why I loved her.

SamLovesBrad says:

Mr. Olde said he's going to be away for a couple days starting tomorrow, I'm really hoping he gets Mr. Drofloc in to sub, apparently English is his specialty.

At this point, I really, really didn't care. The whole thing was so silly. It was incredibley nice of Sam to humour me, but it seemed like she was just rubbing it in my face. My theories, my crushes, all of it so silly. Silly Ewan.

After chatting a little bit more I made up an excuse to leave and turned off my computer. I looked at the clock: it was almost eight thirty and I still hadn't eaten anything all day. I really didn't want to eat though. My head wouldn't stop pulsing, too many things, too much to think about. I just wanted to shut down, make it all go away. I lay in bed and closed my eyes but knew sleep wasn't coming any time soon. I tried reading, hoping the words might take me away. Nothing helped though, thoughts played in my mind constantly. Sam's words, Britney's words, words people said to me days before, words that were completely irrelevant. All of this played over and over in my mind, mingled with my own thoughts, occassionally starting up conversations with these people in my head, or talking to them, trying to explain something I had said and to make sure they knew what I meant. To make sure I knew what I meant. To make sure I still had some sanity.

At two am I finally allowed myself to be overtaken by malevolent dreams of frustration which kept me hostage until I was released the next morning by the euphony of my mother's yelling.

MR.MXYZPTLK

02-16-2006, 07:39 PM

Yes finally after all this time I get to post first. In your face welshie!:anime:

I really feel for sorry for Ewan it must be so confusing. I liked the way he had completly forgot about mr.drofloc mainly because I had too. I'm still a little confused about were this is going but Its still very well written good job

Matt A

02-18-2006, 08:51 AM

I was wondering when Mr Drofloc would get mentioned again. It seems there might really be something to him after all...;)

You know, Ewan never stops being an interesting bloke. Mathematical, cold-hearted and faintly contemptible, but still very interesting. And a lot more insecure than I'd been thinking, though only when it comes to Sam. Just this once, I feel I can truly understand him.;)

Full kudos for once of the best characterisation jobs I've ever seen. Hell, maybe even the best.:anime:

-Matt A-

enigmatic_one

02-18-2006, 07:23 PM

Thank you so much for the compliments, guys! As a special treat, here's ANOTHER CHAPTER!!!! Although I liked the previous two chapters, I would ask that you concider this to be the chapter coming off of the long static, the return masterpiece which makes everyone agree it was worth the wait. A lot of things start to come together. Hopefully you think it's as good as I do, it was really late when I wrote it so you never know.

~Enigmatic One

enigmatic_one

02-18-2006, 07:26 PM

Chapter 34

I shovelled eggs into my mouth saying nothing, attempting to think nothing. I had no idea why everything was too much all of a sudden, but I knew that if I didn't fix something soon I was going to go mad. Supposing I wasn't insane already, I often wonder on such a topic. It was a Tuesday, which never bodes well. Little did I know that before the sun had set, I would accurately evaluate that day as the best I had had in a very long time.

When I walked out the door, it became clear immediately that the sky was clear, that is there were no clouds. This was no small observance, as it had been raining at various intensities for four days straight, the longest storm that anyone could remember. There had been a big article in the paper about it this morning, apparently the city was trying to find ways to ship some of the water away so they didn't have to wait for it to naturally pass on. Walking down the street, I could see why. Sewers everywhere were still overflooded and street gutters were invisible under miniature streams on both sides of the road. Flowers and grass lay on their sides, overpowered by the will of the water, and earth worms littered the sidewalks in little pools of water by the multitude.

Despite this dreary and chaotic display on the ground level, I could help feeling some of my anxiety drift away as I breathed the fresh air, unafraid of being soaked as I strolled down the street. The air tasted fresh and clean, and the breeze was soft without being overly cold. One thing stood out above everything, and just seeing it in the blue sky lightened my heart; a full, golden sun was shining. It hadn't occured to me just how beautiful the sun was, nor how much I took it for granted. Walking to school with it shining on me, I was able to escape from my thoughts for a brief time, escape from the guilt and wanting. I found myself harbouring an irresistable urge to sing, and so I did, unafraid of being overheard by druggies or early risers.

"Little darling, it's been a long, hard, lonely winter. Little darling, it seems like years since it's been here. Here comes the sun, do do do do do, here comes the sun and I say it's alright."

When I got to school, a part of me remembered everything I had been thinking about all night and began to worry, but at the same time I was comforted. I might have just given up or something, but after the peaceful walk with the sun I had a kind of hope, a reassurance. I just felt like everything was going to be okay.

The sun seemed to follow me throughout the day, creeping through windows to my desk or the sky window in the hallway between classes. As the warm light followed, so did my increasing sense of confidence. By the end of first class (health) I had been able to rationally think through the situation without getting caught up in logic and theoretical probabities and possible reactions. By second class, I had determined that the reason I was getting so agitated was because I had no idea what to do and I do not like not having a plan. By the time the lunch bell rang, I had figured out my plan. For the most part.

The ellusive next step was deceptively simple: I was going to have to break up with Britney. This was difficult for a trifold of reasons. Foremostly, I didn't want to hurt her. Despite a deep cynicism and even hatred at times for everyone in the world, I really do care about people as individuals, even people I don't know, and go to great lengths at times to make sure they don't get screwed over. I wasn't sure how much Britney had invested into our relationship at this still early stage, but it was evident that she had some nature of feelings for me and I really did not want to crush her. Secondly, I do not enjoy confronting people with overly serious matters. I am, of course, a perfectionist, and since my sudden splurge of popularity have taken it upon myself to be perfect in an entirely new front: society.

Socializing is a complex yet ultimately simple concept. The trick is all about confidence, actual competance comes second. As long as you seem in control and able, people will gravitate towards you. I had always had the skill, but lacked the motivation to apply the confidence, or "put myself out there", so to speak, leaving me an assumed nerd/wierdo/loser. There are also lots of other little tricks that must be applied to people on a personal level, and luckily I am extremely perceptive of people. Honing these skills, I endeavour to be the perfect person for each person I find myself exposed to, and have had an increasing rate of success. Essentially I give the person exactly what they want. This clashes horribley with the next step as almost no one wants to be broken up with.

My third hesitation was merely that, as is my nature: a hesitation. A fear of commiting myself to a set course when I had no idea of knowing what the "right" answer was, what would be best for everyone else, and what would be best for me. I knew I still loved Sam, and I knew I didn't really have feelings for Britney, and I knew that wasn't fair to Britney. Yet at the same time I wondered if it would just be best to continue to try to move on, since I knew that a future with Sam was unthinkable.

Ultimately, I was faced with acting or going insane, so I was forced to act. Somehow I would have to break up with Britney. If it blew up in my face, so be it. If it screwed Britney over, so be it. I would feel horrible, and guilty for a long time, but it really is in her best interests, I think. I just really hoped she would take it well. My shadow or wrrying and doubt was quickly overtaking me, but I stood firm on the premise that I had to do it. It was just something I'd barrel through and take as it took me.

I was waiting in the cafeteria line, still worrying over how I would do the actual breaking up, when I saw a sight that made my socks explode and sent my heart soaring on a sky cruiser of bliss. Sitting on the bench across from my position in line was David Marcez, a basketball player from 9 CM. Sitting on David Marcez was my Britney, snuggled comfortabley in his arms with her lips not at all perturbed by his wanting kisses. It was the happiest sight I had seen in weeks. I stood for a few minutes in awe of them, trying to figure out how appropriate it would be for me to beam broadly and shout "Yippee!" It wasn't until some kids behind me started yelling at me for holding up the line that she even noticed me. I must have looked pretty devastated in my attempts not to burst out giggling, because she winced a bit when she saw me.

"Sorry, kiddo, you just weren't as cool as I thought." That was all she said to me before allowing herself to be taken by David's gnawing lips again, and that suited me fine.

After getting my lunch I sought out MInzy, sat next to her without announcing my pressence and started eating. There had been no official "falling out" between us since our heated discussion after Britney and I became a couple, but our interactions had been a bit strained and I felt it necessary to make ammends. After a few minutes of eating in silence I broke the ice.

"You were right."

"I know." she said not looking up from her food.

"You're always right."

"I know." she looked over at me. "You okay?"

I smiled and nodded. "The sun has come, of course I'm alright." And from then on things went completely back to normal between us.

I walked to my class after lunch with a bounce in my step: it was unbelievable how much stress had just vanished knowing that I didn't have to worry about Britney. Now nothing seemed wrong at all. I was in love with Sam, and I was free to do so with all my heart. She didn't know, but that was a thing best left for the best possible time, something I would plan at a future date, but for now everything was just perfect.

I even got to see Sam for a couple minutes in the hall and even talk to her! It was so wonderful to completely melt as I saw her running towards me and not feel a smidge of guilt at all.

"Ewan!" she called, as if I wasn't already aware of her approach and was in danger of missing her. "Ewan, over here!"

"Hi Sam" I said, now beaming as fully as I had been wanting to for more than a half hour.

"Hi, love" I always swooned when she called me that, even though I knew she didn't actually mean it like that and called many of her friends the same thing, it still sounded really nice coming off her lips. "Guess what!"

I shrugged blankly, unsure what could have her so excited that would be of interest to me, just counting myself lucky that I was able to spend these few extra moments in her glorious pressence.

"Uric's here!"

I scrunched my nose in confusion. "Who?"

"Mr. Drofloc! Uric!"

"Ohhh" I said with understanding, hipocritally smiling with amusement at her foolish crush.

"He is in for Olde, do you have him today?"

I thought for a second "Yeah, I have english last class."

She took my hand and grasped it tightly, I thought my knees were going to give away I was so happy. "Make sure you take careful notes on any similarities betwen you and him, mkay? I want a full report after school!"

I nodded, unable to speak.

"I gotta run now, catch you later!" she ran off, her smile still blazed before my eyes as I sauntered whimsically to science.

The thought of Mr. Drofloc being me came back to me and as I sat in class, I shook my head to myself, smiling amusedly. It really was quite ridiculas. How could it have been that I had convinced myself of something so foolish? It was really funny how something I was once so sure of now seemed irrelevant and silly. I couldn't even remember one solid coincidence (let alone actual proof) that had led me to such an outwildish conclusion. I really did have far too much time on my hands in those days.

I lost myself in the class, my happiness about Britney and joy of seeing Sam still dominating my mind. I took the opportunity to heavily praticipate in class, answering every question immediately instead of lazily day dreaming as I had been getting into the habit of doing, and displayed my oratorical skills with ludrative defintions filled with enchanting, but accurate, imagery. All in all I had far too much fun with myself. By the time the bell rang signifying the end of science, I had once again forgotten about Mr. Drofloc.

"What was that all about?" asked Minzy as we toured the hallways together on the way to english.

"All what?" I asked, spinning around in mid stride. I still felt rather whimsical.

"All the answering of questions and preppiness back there?"

I shrugged, still smiling broadly. "Just in a really good mood I guess."

When we got to class, no teacher was waiting for us which stuck me as odd as Mr. Olde was known for never leaving his classroom. Then I remembered about Drofloc and shook my head again, my amusement at my own naivete returning. Surveying the room, I saw that Mr. Drofloc had left a quote for us on the board, something quickly becoming his signature piece. Excellent, I thought to myself. I do enjoy a good quote, even if it wasn't written by someone who's my adult self. When I'm in a good mood I have an over anxious sense of humour.

I leaned forward to read the quote, and very suddenly, very dramatically, turned as white as the chalk that drew the words in my exact hand writing. The shock wasn't because of the proximatey the penmenship shared with my own, though. I had already acknowledged that. I was now paralyzed with curiousity and fear because of what the words said. Written on the blackboard were the following lyrics:

Little darling, it's been a long, hard, lonely winter.
Little darling, it seems like years since it's been here.
Here comes the sun, do do do do do
Here comes the sun, and I say
It's alright.
- The Beatles