My New Story
I’m writing a new story. For now, it has no name, but it is about a kid named Alex. The first paragraph has one thing about his history, I’m telling you as a foreshadow. Here it is:
Out in the darkness of the night, I spy the figure of a tall, big man. I hear the sounds of axes being sharpened, and chainsaws roaring through the air. The man is now walking towards me, at a slow, limping pace. Now in the moonlight I can see that he is dragging a large, shiny object behind him, tearing up the soil as he goes along. The dark figure is now in the shape of my father. As the cold wind blows, the man picks up the large object by the handle. When he slings the large object at me…. I wake up.
With cold sweat running down my face and my heart pounding hard and fast as that of a small animal running for its life, I become conscious. I have a sore pain in my throat. I seem to have just quieted from an agonizing scream. I’m surprised that no one in my family had heard me and come running. I must report this to my friend when we meet at 8:15 a.m.…Only six hours and fifteen minutes left to go. I’m going back to sleep. Hope my dreams treat me better this time. ZZZZzzzzZZZZzzzzzzz………
“Ahh!” I shout as I awake. “I had the nightmare again.” I whisper to myself.
“What did you say dear boy,” asked Sarah our maid as she walked into the room.
“Oh, nothing. Just talking to myself”
“That’s not a good habit to acquire, my dear child. You look like your in shock, being all sweaty and all. Is something wrong my boy?”
“Nothing at all, Sarah. Thanks for your concern.”
“You’re welcome Alex. Well, here’s your breakfast and morning tea.”
“Thank you Sarah,” I say as she hands me a tray with waffles topped with syrup and butter, one egg over-easy, and a glass of fresh squeezed orange juice. On her way out of my room, she turns on my CD player and selects track 3. Then my favorite Janis Joplin song starts playing, “Oh, Lord, won’t you buy me a Mercedes Benz?”
