File type: Text File (.txt) [Download]
-----------------------------------------
The sun gleamed off the white Buick Park Avenue in our driveway. I should have been in it to prepare for my test tomorrow, but I knew how dangerous driving was. Taking a deep breath, I focused my mind on nothing at all. This was a technique I had learned from my therapist for dealing with stressful and dangerous situations such as driving or tests.
However, I found peace to be harder to attain today. One thought kept circling around in my mind: "Fletcher!" It kept growing more and more persistent as time went on. Eventually, another string of words attached themselves to that thought: "Get down here right now!" I snapped out of my meditation with a start as I realized what was going on.
"Coming, Mom!" I yelled.
My mom was absolutely awful with machines, which was part of what drew her to my father in the first place. Now that he was gone, the task of repairing everything fell to me. Naturally, I excelled at it. Sometimes, my mom said I was even better at it than my father. This never failed to put a smile on my face. Indeed, I lived for such moments, so I studied up on all the electronics in our house.
Now downstairs, I saw the issue. She had removed the dust container on the vacuum cleaner and spilled it everywhere, including on top of her head somehow. She peered down the bottom of the vacuum questioningly.
"Do you know where the filter is on this thing?" she asked me without turning her head.
"Not there. Here, let me."
I instantly pulled the filter out. Looking at it, I determined that it needed a good cleaning, but since the manual warned against--
"Great, now we just run some water over it, right?" Mom inquired.
I was surprised that she knew she needed to clean the filter, given how most of her ideas on fixing machines were completely wrong, like this latest one.
"I'll take care of it," I assured her.
She exclaimed, "I don't know what I'd do without you two!"
With that sentence, she reminded me of the special occasion tomorrow. It marked the first day I would be able to obtain my license, seeing as I would turn 16. Since it was my birthday, that meant one other very important thing. I had no time for meditation or practicing! I needed to make sure the house was in tip-top condition for my brother's visit! Michael was my role model and wouldn't tolerate a dirty house. I looked around and noticed hundreds of flaws I would have to correct before tomorrow. Filter in hand, I zoomed up to the bathroom and took out a toothbrush. Quickly but carefully, I groomed the vacuum filter and tucked the toothbrush back in the drawer.
Running back down the stairs, I replaced the filter and dust container in preparation to vacuum.
My mom objected, "I can clean up my own mess, Fletch. You don't need to do that..."
If I was going to clean this house, I needed to make sure it was done right. I couldn't afford her breaking the vacuum and causing a larger mess.
"No, I'll do it."
She sighed, "Ok...I'll clean the kitchen, then."
She seemed determined to screw something up, so to get my point across, I retorted sternly, "I'll take over the cleaning, Mom."
Opening her mouth to say something, she closed it again to eventually agree, "I'm sure you'll do a fine job, Fletcher."
A fine job? More like a perfect job! I was resolved to make this house blind Michael with its cleanliness. Well, maybe not that clean. Something so clean you can't see it is just as bad as something that's completely filthy. The solution lay in a middle ground between these two extremes...but closer to the clean side.
For the rest of the day, I labored over finding every single speck of dust and whisking it away. The trash was emptied, the sinks polished, and the furniture reorganized to be more aesthetically pleasing. Sweat dribbled over my face as I kept myself busy, but it could not distract me from my duty. If I disappointed Michael, I...don't know what would happen. The prospect was too frightening to consider.
He had been my pillar as I journeyed through middle school, and now that I was thrown into a new high school all by myself, I found it hard to cope. Michael kept the bullies off my back during middle school first by defending me personally, then by reputation. No one dared touch me for fear of invoking the wrath of my older brother, but now that he was off at college, students had begun to harass me again.
Every time I slipped up in class or in the halls, I felt judging glares bearing down on me. Despite my perfect grades, they still found reasons to hate me, and they found them often. I was safe in middle school, but every day of high school felt like a high-stakes mission. I needed to drop in, produce good grades, and slip back out discreetly. At first, I had tried to act like Michael had, but it wasn't enough to convince people. For indiscernible reasons, they spit venomous statements at me with increased fervor.
Eventually, I learned that the best way to combat them was to simply ignore them. I was the protagonist of my own story, and I wasn't about to let the minor characters break me down that easily. My purpose lay beyond school, so it and especially the people within were nothing but stepping stones. If they tried to speak up against my passage, all I had to do was remember that they were merely speechless stones. And since they were stones, I felt no interest in befriending them, for what companionship could one provide for a far more important main character?
Exhausted from cleaning, I instantly fell asleep when my head hit the pillow. Drifting through unconsciousness, I thought I heard a woman's voice asking me questions, but like a tomato on a loaded hamburger, it slipped away every time I tried to focus on it. I eventually was drawn into vague dreams and forgot every bit of what the woman said, only maintaining a faint sense of some kind of grave danger.
-----------------------------------------
The sun gleamed off the white Buick Park Avenue in our driveway. I should have been in it to prepare for my test tomorrow, but I knew how dangerous driving was. Taking a deep breath, I focused my mind on nothing at all. This was a technique I had learned from my therapist for dealing with stressful and dangerous situations such as driving or tests.
However, I found peace to be harder to attain today. One thought kept circling around in my mind: "Fletcher!" It kept growing more and more persistent as time went on. Eventually, another string of words attached themselves to that thought: "Get down here right now!" I snapped out of my meditation with a start as I realized what was going on.
"Coming, Mom!" I yelled.
My mom was absolutely awful with machines, which was part of what drew her to my father in the first place. Now that he was gone, the task of repairing everything fell to me. Naturally, I excelled at it. Sometimes, my mom said I was even better at it than my father. This never failed to put a smile on my face. Indeed, I lived for such moments, so I studied up on all the electronics in our house.
Now downstairs, I saw the issue. She had removed the dust container on the vacuum cleaner and spilled it everywhere, including on top of her head somehow. She peered down the bottom of the vacuum questioningly.
"Do you know where the filter is on this thing?" she asked me without turning her head.
"Not there. Here, let me."
I instantly pulled the filter out. Looking at it, I determined that it needed a good cleaning, but since the manual warned against--
"Great, now we just run some water over it, right?" Mom inquired.
I was surprised that she knew she needed to clean the filter, given how most of her ideas on fixing machines were completely wrong, like this latest one.
"I'll take care of it," I assured her.
She exclaimed, "I don't know what I'd do without you two!"
With that sentence, she reminded me of the special occasion tomorrow. It marked the first day I would be able to obtain my license, seeing as I would turn 16. Since it was my birthday, that meant one other very important thing. I had no time for meditation or practicing! I needed to make sure the house was in tip-top condition for my brother's visit! Michael was my role model and wouldn't tolerate a dirty house. I looked around and noticed hundreds of flaws I would have to correct before tomorrow. Filter in hand, I zoomed up to the bathroom and took out a toothbrush. Quickly but carefully, I groomed the vacuum filter and tucked the toothbrush back in the drawer.
Running back down the stairs, I replaced the filter and dust container in preparation to vacuum.
My mom objected, "I can clean up my own mess, Fletch. You don't need to do that..."
If I was going to clean this house, I needed to make sure it was done right. I couldn't afford her breaking the vacuum and causing a larger mess.
"No, I'll do it."
She sighed, "Ok...I'll clean the kitchen, then."
She seemed determined to screw something up, so to get my point across, I retorted sternly, "I'll take over the cleaning, Mom."
Opening her mouth to say something, she closed it again to eventually agree, "I'm sure you'll do a fine job, Fletcher."
A fine job? More like a perfect job! I was resolved to make this house blind Michael with its cleanliness. Well, maybe not that clean. Something so clean you can't see it is just as bad as something that's completely filthy. The solution lay in a middle ground between these two extremes...but closer to the clean side.
For the rest of the day, I labored over finding every single speck of dust and whisking it away. The trash was emptied, the sinks polished, and the furniture reorganized to be more aesthetically pleasing. Sweat dribbled over my face as I kept myself busy, but it could not distract me from my duty. If I disappointed Michael, I...don't know what would happen. The prospect was too frightening to consider.
He had been my pillar as I journeyed through middle school, and now that I was thrown into a new high school all by myself, I found it hard to cope. Michael kept the bullies off my back during middle school first by defending me personally, then by reputation. No one dared touch me for fear of invoking the wrath of my older brother, but now that he was off at college, students had begun to harass me again.
Every time I slipped up in class or in the halls, I felt judging glares bearing down on me. Despite my perfect grades, they still found reasons to hate me, and they found them often. I was safe in middle school, but every day of high school felt like a high-stakes mission. I needed to drop in, produce good grades, and slip back out discreetly. At first, I had tried to act like Michael had, but it wasn't enough to convince people. For indiscernible reasons, they spit venomous statements at me with increased fervor.
Eventually, I learned that the best way to combat them was to simply ignore them. I was the protagonist of my own story, and I wasn't about to let the minor characters break me down that easily. My purpose lay beyond school, so it and especially the people within were nothing but stepping stones. If they tried to speak up against my passage, all I had to do was remember that they were merely speechless stones. And since they were stones, I felt no interest in befriending them, for what companionship could one provide for a far more important main character?
Exhausted from cleaning, I instantly fell asleep when my head hit the pillow. Drifting through unconsciousness, I thought I heard a woman's voice asking me questions, but like a tomato on a loaded hamburger, it slipped away every time I tried to focus on it. I eventually was drawn into vague dreams and forgot every bit of what the woman said, only maintaining a faint sense of some kind of grave danger.
Next Chapter Last Chapter
This is just the first chapter that details the main character a bit before the transformation, but rest assured, the next chapter will have the transformation scene. As I go through this long project of writing this story, please put your feedback in the comments. This is the second draft, and it needs far more revision before it's finished, so constructive criticism is welcome.
This is just the first chapter that details the main character a bit before the transformation, but rest assured, the next chapter will have the transformation scene. As I go through this long project of writing this story, please put your feedback in the comments. This is the second draft, and it needs far more revision before it's finished, so constructive criticism is welcome.
Category Story / Pokemon
Species Pokemon
Gender Male
Size 120 x 120px
File Size 5.8 kB
Comments