Story Contest- FATAL FICTION

A quick overview of what the heck the following excerpt of a non-existent book (lol) is, can be found at the following link:
http://writealogue.wordpress.com/2010/09/19/writers-challenge-1/
If you are too lazy to click, it’s basically for a story contest involving opening the nearest book to page 23, writing the last line as my first line, and then making it into a short work of fiction. Mine resembles a book excerpt, meaning that it is meant to be unfinished…ENJOY, and Rate it on the link above!

                                                               FATAL FICTION

“But I would hold a pretty wager, sir, that a House like Tellson and Company was flourishing, a matter of fifty, not to speak of fifteen years ago?”

There was a pause.

“Shilla?” Andersons voice pearced deep into my brain, as though engraving stone. I jumped, and looked at him wearily. “Did you understand a word you just read?” His voice more gentle now, he looked at me with slight concern.

I nodded numbly. I couldn’t believe this was happening. “Would you care to explain it to the rest of the class?” More gently. I felt tingles go up and down my spine; little shivers that I hadn’t felt in years.

“Shilla?” Still waiting.

I gasped, as though fighting for air.

“Fighting for air?” A little voice in my head burst out in anger. “Why are you having difficulty breathing in English class, you idiot?! Just answer the guy and get on with it! Seriously! What are you waiting for?” A slight pause, then again, louder than before, the voice yelled, “Come ON! Say something!!”

“N-no, just…you don’t get it, oh, G-d, just SHUT UP!”

My knuckles were gripping my desk, white with tension, fear, confusion. Too late, I saw Anderson step back in disbelief, anger, and horror. Too late, I realized that I had been talking to more than just myself. I had yelled out loud.

Pete was waiting outside for me. I hadn’t expected him. I realized that yesterday, I would have been more than happy to see him. I would have been ecstatic. But that was yesterday.

“Hey, Shilla-girl!” He half walked, half loped over to me. His bouncy aura seemed to melt the minute he saw my face. He looked away for a minute. I could practically read the words on his face: “Uh-oh, here we go again”.

“I heard what happened today…” He started hesitantly, scraping the toe of his blue Nike’s on the rough asphalt.

I shrugged, looking away. It was drizzling outside, and I didn’t have my car. Of all the luck. Not that it was safe for me to drive, not while I was in this condition, but still, I wished I had brought it. I must have spaced out for a while, because next thing I knew, Pete was pleading, “But really, Shilla, you need to understand…I understand!”

I stared at him blankly. He looked so freaked out that I nodded, as if contemplating his words. Then I looked away. My attention span was shorter than a four letter word, and it was driving Pete crazy.

Fortunatly for me, my mom pulled up, just as he opened his mouth to let everything out.

I climbed into our quiet, comfortable silver Suburban, and shut the door. I waved at Pete, because it would have been rude not to.

“Oh, sweetie, I saw you talking to Pete!” My mom squealed as I breathed on the window, not looking at her. She maneuverd around a pickup truck and pulled out of the MYT High School parking lot in the usual style- fast.

“So, tell me, what happened? You don’t seem too excited. Are you guys in a fight? What’s going on, honey?” My mom prattled on, almost in time with the blaring song on the radio, oblivious to my lack of respnse.

Finally, I turned to face her. One glance at my pale face was all she needed to know.

“Oh. My. G-d. It happened!” She mouthed the last two words; she was in so much shock. All I could do was look at her glumly and nod.

The next day dawned bright and sunny. I used to think that moods matched weather. Before that fateful Tuesday, I had been right. But now everything changed. I was grumpy and partially dead the entire morning period. Pete came up to me twice-TWICE!

I don’t think I explained Pete properly. He was tall, cute and charming. His blonde hair was always perfectly in place, but his shirts were always wrinkled and untucked. I never knew why, but one thing I always knew- every girl in MYT loved him. And for some reason, he never left me for any of them. 

 knew that many, if not most of the girls were prettier than I will ever be, but Pete didn’t seem to care. It’s rather shallow of me, but I always thought he should. I guess I thought sometimes that he was like other boys. As long as I had known him, he had proven himself to be different.

But then, Tuesday had happened.

I sluped into English class, angrily growling with the voice in my head that told me to stand straight and act normal. I didn’t want to act normal, especially when that was the last thing I was.

“But wherever you’re lacking, that’s where you should act!” The little voice in my head was still at it.

“C’mon, do you think they’re stupid? They know something’s up!”

“Well, you can try and cover up…” My little voice quieted down; Anderson was calling everyone to their seats. He didn’t look at me, and I realized he felt awkward about yesterday. After all, physically throwing a girl out of class can be quite…awkward.

I didn’t look at him either, not after that first glance.

But before I knew it, it was my turn to read again. I hated that. Everone went around the room and read a paragraph from the book we were learning; A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens.

I braced myself. I was really scared. I think people picked up on my fear, because the room got really quiet.

“Please begin on page 36” Anderson spoke kindly, but in a very reserved tone.

I hesitated. Anderson wasn’t taking no for an answer. And to this day, I wish I knew why…

I started to read, fighting a feeling inside my head, threatening to overwhelm my whole body. I knew I was in for it. But I read, gasping as the words began to fall from my parched lips, out into the tense classroom air.

“Hunger. It was prevalent everywhere. Hunger was pushed out of the tall houses, in the wretched clothing that hung upon poles and lines; Hunger was…”

I physically could not read anymore. The book fell out of my hands, and slipped numbly to the wet, muddy ground. I sighed, and felt a small tear of frustration drip down my cheek. I had done it again.

I looked around at the frozen images of my classmates, all dressed in their regular clothes, hideosly bright compared to their surroundings. I looked at the crowd gathering in horror, staring with disbelief and clutching their rags, wondering what type of god was trying to mess up their world.

And I cursed my mother for thinking that bringing me into this world would make her life better.

6 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. Thaumaturgist
    Oct 06, 2010 @ 21:34:02

    I want MORE! This is so..oo GOOD!

    Reply

    • unravelmythoughts
      Oct 07, 2010 @ 00:11:19

      Oh, why thank you! I’ll be honest with you, it needs major editing, and I had absolutely no outline. I just started to write, and the characters came. I don’t think I’d want to write more because that would require figuring out yet ANOTHER plot for one of my many stories…sigh. I have too many ideas sometimes….dusty, unfinished thoughts…

      Reply

  2. Shard
    Oct 08, 2010 @ 02:41:44

    Well, I’m definitely intrigued.

    Reply

  3. SL
    Oct 16, 2010 @ 05:11:30

    OK, you mentioned that I should check this out. I don’t like the way it’s so fragmented- a little here and there; there is no flow. But, I think that aside from that there is definite POTENTIAL.

    Reply

  4. Trackback: Writers Challenge 1 Voting Results « My Writealogue

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