Yes, I'm hopping on the NaNoWriMo band wagon too. My novel is chugging along ahead of schedule, and even though I'm blind writing, is turning out to be pretty darn good. So, shall we?
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Chapter I
The Call
I got a C on a test.
That was enough to surprise me. A C for me is like an A. My grades are generally crappy. I don’t know how I got into high school. Nevertheless, there I was, looking over that test and wondering how I got that many right.
My name is Aaron Cornelius Sears. Or, at least I’ve been told that’s what it is. I live in a house in the suburbs, which my family somehow hangs on to despite my dad’s dead end job. I’m an only child. And my life is generally not too awesome. But enough about me.
Oh, wait. This whole story is about me. My bad.
I was looking over that test when the front door opened. The man that walked through was of medium height, short limbs and a look of time tested endurance. He wore the components for a cheap suit save for the jacket. He was carrying a battered briefcase in one hand and a laptop case in the other.
“Hey dad” I say. I felt I was comfortably rooted to our couch, but I pushed myself off. “Need a hand with that?”
“No, I’m fine, son” he said setting his luggage on the dining table in the next room. My old man is careful with everything. He treats everyone and everything with just below obsessive care. He wouldn’t hurt a fly. “How’d that test go today?”
Suddenly a fork has overtaken my road. I paused, contemplating my choices. Contemplate, contemplate. “I got a C” I said after ten seconds or so. I wasn’t counting.
Now it was my dad’s turn to pause. “That’s great, son” he said without looking at me. I know when my dad’s lying; he shoves his hands in his pockets and tries to not stand near any walls. And, surprise, his hands found their way to his pockets. “A C. Huh.”
“You don’t think that” I said. I’m radically honest when given the chance. Bad habit. Or good. Depends.
Now my dad looked me in the eyes. “What do you mean?”
“Dad, I know you better than you think I do. I’ve known you all my life, after all. You’re as easy to read as a neon sign.” By now I was in the dining room facing off against him. “I got a C. I’m average. It’s the best grade I’ve got this semester. I might not flunk now. Yippee. Can’t I get some reaction?”
He smiled. “You’re just as easy to read, Aaron. You wouldn’t get this hooked on a grade.” He placed a hand on my shoulder and the smile lessened. “Tell me, what’s going on? It something at school, or…”
Now I looked away. “Not really. Well, sort of. It-“
The phone rang and cut me short. I looked past my dad towards the kitchen. “I’ll get it” I said and began to walk past him. He didn’t stop me. I walked into the linoleum floored room and pulled our landline phone outside of its cradle. “Hello?”
“Citizen 355.”
“I’m sorry?” I asked. The voice on the receiver sounded…not raspy. More like it had been to long time smoker. But it wasn’t the voice that set me off. It was what it said. What the hell did ‘Citizen Three Fifty Five’ mean?
“Citizen 355.”
“I don’t know what that means-“
“I must speak with Citizen 355.”
I stared at the receiver. This guy was either insane or was really bad at prank calls. Something told me it was the former. “I’m sorry, sir, but I don’t know what you’re talking-“
“Nathan Sears.”
I blinked. That was my dad’s name.
“You can hang up, Aaron.”
That was my dad. On the other line. Had he been–listening in? Why? “Yeah…okay” I said. And I hung up. In retrospect, I think that things would have made a hell of a lot more sense if I had kept listening.
But I didn’t.
I could have. I could have listened to that call. I could have asked what a Citizen was. I could have asked who that man was. I could have asked how he knew my dad. I didn’t ask any of those things. In hindsight, I should have.
Because, when everything went to hell, I had no way of knowing it.
If only I had listened to that call.
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Yes, short first chapter. One's after it are much longer. Comment!
Keep track of my progress!
____________________________________________________
Chapter I
The Call
I got a C on a test.
That was enough to surprise me. A C for me is like an A. My grades are generally crappy. I don’t know how I got into high school. Nevertheless, there I was, looking over that test and wondering how I got that many right.
My name is Aaron Cornelius Sears. Or, at least I’ve been told that’s what it is. I live in a house in the suburbs, which my family somehow hangs on to despite my dad’s dead end job. I’m an only child. And my life is generally not too awesome. But enough about me.
Oh, wait. This whole story is about me. My bad.
I was looking over that test when the front door opened. The man that walked through was of medium height, short limbs and a look of time tested endurance. He wore the components for a cheap suit save for the jacket. He was carrying a battered briefcase in one hand and a laptop case in the other.
“Hey dad” I say. I felt I was comfortably rooted to our couch, but I pushed myself off. “Need a hand with that?”
“No, I’m fine, son” he said setting his luggage on the dining table in the next room. My old man is careful with everything. He treats everyone and everything with just below obsessive care. He wouldn’t hurt a fly. “How’d that test go today?”
Suddenly a fork has overtaken my road. I paused, contemplating my choices. Contemplate, contemplate. “I got a C” I said after ten seconds or so. I wasn’t counting.
Now it was my dad’s turn to pause. “That’s great, son” he said without looking at me. I know when my dad’s lying; he shoves his hands in his pockets and tries to not stand near any walls. And, surprise, his hands found their way to his pockets. “A C. Huh.”
“You don’t think that” I said. I’m radically honest when given the chance. Bad habit. Or good. Depends.
Now my dad looked me in the eyes. “What do you mean?”
“Dad, I know you better than you think I do. I’ve known you all my life, after all. You’re as easy to read as a neon sign.” By now I was in the dining room facing off against him. “I got a C. I’m average. It’s the best grade I’ve got this semester. I might not flunk now. Yippee. Can’t I get some reaction?”
He smiled. “You’re just as easy to read, Aaron. You wouldn’t get this hooked on a grade.” He placed a hand on my shoulder and the smile lessened. “Tell me, what’s going on? It something at school, or…”
Now I looked away. “Not really. Well, sort of. It-“
The phone rang and cut me short. I looked past my dad towards the kitchen. “I’ll get it” I said and began to walk past him. He didn’t stop me. I walked into the linoleum floored room and pulled our landline phone outside of its cradle. “Hello?”
“Citizen 355.”
“I’m sorry?” I asked. The voice on the receiver sounded…not raspy. More like it had been to long time smoker. But it wasn’t the voice that set me off. It was what it said. What the hell did ‘Citizen Three Fifty Five’ mean?
“Citizen 355.”
“I don’t know what that means-“
“I must speak with Citizen 355.”
I stared at the receiver. This guy was either insane or was really bad at prank calls. Something told me it was the former. “I’m sorry, sir, but I don’t know what you’re talking-“
“Nathan Sears.”
I blinked. That was my dad’s name.
“You can hang up, Aaron.”
That was my dad. On the other line. Had he been–listening in? Why? “Yeah…okay” I said. And I hung up. In retrospect, I think that things would have made a hell of a lot more sense if I had kept listening.
But I didn’t.
I could have. I could have listened to that call. I could have asked what a Citizen was. I could have asked who that man was. I could have asked how he knew my dad. I didn’t ask any of those things. In hindsight, I should have.
Because, when everything went to hell, I had no way of knowing it.
If only I had listened to that call.
____________________________________________________
Yes, short first chapter. One's after it are much longer. Comment!
Keep track of my progress!
