The Tangled Web I Weave (Revised)

[Mickoz]

After a long break I've come back as a new user (didn't like my old nick 'The Underworld') with an old fic 'The Tangled Web I Weave'. Never finished it - but after being inspired by Harry Potter 5 I decided to revise it and continue.

Basically I felt the 13 Chapters I'd done were a little short, too much song crap and not enough substance or emotion as I would have liked, so gradually I am revising the entire thing. Here are the stats:


Title: The Tangled Web I Weave

Type: Romance

Person: 1st Person

Main Character: Michael Alonn

Position: Stand alone, possible 1st in a double.

Storyline: Find out!!!

Time: Present day

Author: 12 year old male.

Other notes: Partially based on a true story.

For all's sake here it is:



The Tangled Web I Weave

Prologue – Meet Me

Well, it was the first day of school for 2002. I dressed in front of the TV like every past morning, polished my shoes so they looked nice and snazzy. Turning off the new digital television and stashing some money in my wallet, I set off down the road, towards the bus stop for what would be my first day in Year 6.

Actually, I should be in Year 5, I’m only 10, but I got accelerated because I was intellectually a cut above the rest. In fact, I guess you could say I was quite a few cuts above the rest in many ways. I had my intelligence, my good looks, my style and my riches. Quite a pleasant life.

As the bus trip continued, ever so slowly, I delved into the fascinating world of my brain. It’s strange, starting a new year, I thought. Strange in that it’s normal again, if you get what I mean. Your five weeks of freedom stop abruptly, even though you know you have to go back, it doesn’t have the same meaning until you actually go through that familiar school morning routine.

I breezed into the school gate for the first time in a few weeks, threw my bag over somewhere and headed up to the computer room. Computers here were pretty ****house really; compared to the system I had set up at home. But they do well enough and it’s better than standing outside in the freezing cold kicking a damn ball.

And then the bell goes for start of the day, and there’s the usual ‘beginning of year’ commotion, which takes everybody a while to figure out seeing they’re all so slow and seem to lack a large degree of common sense.
‘Common bloody sense,’ I told someone as they wandered around the building searching for where they were supposed to be. It’s not brain surgery finding a classroom, though I find some people should have brain surgery to insert some intelligence.

I found a desk in my new classroom and waited for the rest of the brown cows crowd to get in. People were fussing round about where they would sit, next to their friends and near the window and such. Well I didn’t really care, I don’t really talk to many people – I guess you could say I don’t really have many friends either – but it’s so hard to get to know people who are so hopelessly mundane.

I did have one good friend though, one very good friend by the name of Richard. If I went out to a movie or to the beach with someone, it was with Richard. Other than that I kept to myself. My own world I had created was much better than what was going on around me. And even Richard got on my nerves sometimes. He was always ringing up wanting to do things, when I just wanted to stay alone. Sometimes I just unplugged the phone so he couldn’t get on. All in all he was a valuable asset to my life – even though he did tend to be a level lower than me – but that’s to be expected. Anyway, I’m sure the topic of Richard will come up later.

The day was spent beating round the bush, to be honest with you. I often wonder how intelligent whoever organises these school days and excursions is. So much time is wasted on unnecessary crap, like the ‘getting to know you game’ we had today, and the ‘why not sit around watching the teacher drink coffee’ hour. Add on the excessively long lunch break (really, does it really like 70 minutes to eat all the fattening garbage parents can squeeze into your cheap plastic lunchbox?), and you’ve got a severely bloated out school day. Instead of ending at 3:00, we could cut the bull**** and finish before 1 o’clock. But seeing everybody else knows best, I’ll have to deal with it.

So, after the mandatory six hours of time wasting, I set out for the local shopping centre. With my vast financial assets, I like to go to the shops after school and purchase the latest computer magazine, piece of software, or some new hip clothes. Most of the time I’m there I witness truckloads of kids spending truckloads of money on truckloads of junk food so they can increase their already enormous waistlines. Such a waste of money, especially seeing the money ends up in the greasy hands of the idiotic counter workers who are so mathematically challenged they either under or over charge 90 percent of the time.

Today’s trip to the shops, however, was to no avail. You spent fifteen minutes in anticipation hoping they’ll have the next issue of PC Authority out, and half a second discovering from the shop attendant that it’ll be in tomorrow (which translates to: some Joe Garbagecan was too busy killing himself on a cigarette to do his job getting the thing on the truck, try again next month).

As you can probably assert, I don’t like dawdling, so it takes me under 30 minutes to walk to the shops, explore the shops I want to see, and get out. Here’s where I get obsessed with time. The bus I get home (the 252) goes at 3:55, and it’s often early, so I have to be quick. I also get really pissed off if it isn’t early. My watch is set daily to Greenwich Mean Time (GMT), so I really know the time. Why is it so important you may ask?

Well, my parents get back home at about five o'clock, my sister usually goes out till later, so the earlier I get back, the more alone time I have to do fun things like play my music at full blast, sing aloud, etc.

All-in-all, that's the thoroughly enjoyed routine of me, Michael Alonn!
=============================================

[Meganium]

I dont know why nobody replies I really like this fic for a non-poke fic. But it dont matter if it is or isnt the fic is great. Description is great its lengthy, I cant wait for mor chapters . Kep Up the good work. Keep Up

[mistysakura]

You know, the reason why no one replied was probably because it wasn't up for too long.

You're back! Yay!!! I can't wait until the new chapters! For some reason, Michael doesn't seem to be as snobby this time, but it might be just because I'm re-reading it. The character is still fantastic though, and the length might need some work, according to some people, bu it's fine as it is.

Keep up the good work, and what happened anyway?

[Mickoz]

Thanks guys!

Meganium, that's true, I sorta lost interest in the Pokemon thing quite a while ago, so while I used to write a lot of Pokemon stuff, I only do real-life now, and this is the only place I know to post it!

And Misty, good to see you again, as for what happened, well, I guess you could say I just lost interest for a while.


Now, I won't dawdle about for the first 10 or so chapters that I already had posted here, I'll try and get them out quickly (2 or 3 a week). So, to back up that point, here's Chapter 1:


Chapter One – The Life of Michael Alonn

‘Good Morning, Alonn Household,’ I said ‘enthusiastically’ into the phone, terribly sarcastically.
‘Yes, I will put her on,’ I said, and yelled for my mother. She came downstairs and asked who it was.
‘That stupid cow Rachel,’ I told her, perhaps a little loudly. Not to worry, I’d made many enemies over the years, another one of mum’s friends couldn’t hurt.

It was a weekend, as per usual things were bloody bedlam around here, my dad had lost his razor, my mother was going through ‘that time of the month’, and my sister was determined to make life at home a living hell. Yes, a typical family, apart from me, the difference being I had some sense.

You see, each member of my family had one quality they called their own, and each prized highly. My mother, she was good looking (sort of). However, she was also an astrologist, so that totally cancelled out any other pros. My dad, he was intelligent (fairly), and at least managed to rake in some cash for the family in his job. Then again, he was a banker, and the humiliation of having a father who’s a banker almost cancels out the monetary advantage. My sister, she had style (the best part of it anyway), but the lack of intelligence was astounding. And that’s it. I possessed all of these qualities.

Anyway, no sooner had my mum finally got off the phone that morning, than it rang again. I dragged myself over to the table where the telephone sat. What sad person would want to waste time conversing with some moron in my household on a sunny Saturday, anyway?

‘Good Morning, Alonn Household,’ I said ‘enthusiastically’ into the phone (again), terribly sarcastically (again). It was Richard. Good grief.
‘Oh, hello!’ I greeted, hoping it didn’t sound to him like a hippopotamus groaning as it did to me.
‘Just thought you might like to do something today?’ he asked innocently.
I would dearly have loved to have said ‘Yes, I would like to stay home on the computer today’ but I couldn’t bring myself too. That was one of the weak points of me. I needed Richard. I couldn’t throw him away like I could give anyone else the finger. If I lost Richard as a friend, I would have none. And that would scare me. I march around the place like it wouldn’t bother me if I ended up on another planet without another living organism on the bloody thing, but when crunch comes to crunch, having no support really scared me. My sister was the same age as me, but she wouldn’t really understand or be any help. So I put up with Richard, going through whatever it took to have someone on backup.
‘Oh yeah, sure, what do ya wanna do?’ I replied.
‘Oh, maybe go to the beach, I thought,’ said Ted.
I kicked the table.
‘Oh yeah, why not, what time?’ I asked, faking my rage and disappointment.
‘Well, we’ll pick you up right now!’ answered Richard.
I kicked the table so hard I thought it might break.
‘Alright, see you then’.

And there goes another day, lost to the foolish act of drenching yourself in salt water. Sometimes I wonder why I bother. But I know why I bother. I know, that one day, I’ll put all this trash behind me, and become the most intelligent, most powerful, richest person in the world!!!

I actually said this aloud, proclaiming myself to whoever could hear. Apparently nobody could hear – but that felt good all the same. I then kicked the living room door open, paraded through the lounge where my sister was rearranging photos, and marched upstairs to change into (sigh) my swimming gear. Nice as my body is, I prefer to wear full covering clothing all the time, including in the pool. What people see in these flab revealing, g-string type ‘clothes’ I don’t know. Where has society gone wrong???

******

‘Look at all the sand in my shoes!’ exclaimed Richard as though this was the most fantastic thing ever to happen to mankind.

I took off my own shoes, and shook the sand out. Remnants of failed sandcastle then found snug positions amongst the fabric on the seat. Oh well, at least I wouldn’t be cleaning it.

We had spent hours at this beach buggering around aimlessly. Apparently it is mandatory to wait until high tide is in so we get the ‘best’ waves, something that can take a long time. But it’s all worth it, because there’s a bigger opportunity to die, which is fantastic. By mid-afternoon I was tempted to follow that guy who had jumped into a hole in the sand and died. But thankfully I could retire back to my castle tonight to catch up with some videos I hadn’t watched.

Then Richard turned to me, looking excited and asked, ‘How about a sleepover at my place tonight?’

============================================

[Mickoz]

No replies ehy? Oh well, on we go!

I've been focusing on developing my other story 'The Grandfather Paradox', which I am starting to like much better, and I hope to upload it here in the near future. But that doesn't mean I'm giving up on this, so here's Chapter Three - if you view, please comment - a fic is useless without its readers.


Chapter Two – The 50th Disaster

It was about a month into the first term of school when a horrible realisation was made. It was my mum’s 50th birthday. Perhaps to some this would be some sort of joyous, commemorative celebration, but to me, it was a meeting of ugliness, a gathering of foolishness, and a collaboration of stupidity. An evening of boredom, an experience of embarrassment, a drawn-out, dull-witted, spineless entangling of hopelessness and sheer hell. There’s the kissing, the wine-spilling, and the babies.

I brought along my headphones, a nice book and a ****load of tolerance and patience. It was gonna be a long eight or nine hours – maybe this was one occasion where I actually wished I was out with Richard at the beach – anything rather than at this nightmare.

Heaps of people say they hate their family, few really mean it. I guess I’m not one of those few. My family are fine people, but it’s hard being so different, being so much ‘better’. Yes I’m trying to be modest here, but honestly, I have no connection with any of the people that are apparently related to me.

I ordered my meal, I never really eat much, food tends to spoil the appearance. I don’t drink any wine, tends to rot the brain cells. I try not to talk to anyone unless it’s absolutely necessary, tends to cramp the style. You get the 3 year olds crawling and drooling beside your chair, you give them a kick and they tend to bawl off somewhere, but basically as little interaction and participation as possible does the trick.

And then the ceremony began. I was asked to M.C the proceedings but graciously declined. So my sister was up there behind the podium, embarrassing the family (or me, just me), blabbing out ums and ars and all sorts of warm and cuddly rubbish. Jokes were cracked, flat jokes (I thought), but the crowd liked it. It wasn’t like me to pass up centre stage, but when you’re getting praise and recognition from a bunch of walruses it really doesn’t count. My dad made a speech, along with my grandparents. And then my sister stood up and looked at me.
‘And now, we’re going to have a few thoughts from Beth’s son, Michael,’ announced my sister Elise.
I stood up like I was being controlled by a force. I had to get up and say something? Well, better to get up there and screw up than to chicken out. This wasn’t even part of the rehearsal anyway. I glared at Elise as I climbed the stairs to the stage, I could tell she’d done this just for her own amusement.
‘Good Afternoon,’ I began, not really caring whether my ‘few words’ sounded stupid, sissy or insulting.
’50. It’s a milestone, ehy. Um, I’ve always thought about the years passing on, what I want to do with my life, what paths I want to take, and ultimately, where I want to be when I’m 50, or 60, or even 80. And mum’s life has been quite an inspiration to that.’

Phew, not so bad so far (I thought). The truth was, my mum’s career as an astrologist couldn’t be further from what I wanted to be.

‘Alright then!’ piped up my Uncle Allan, ‘What’s my fortune for next month?’
‘Oh come on,’ I said, ‘I mean, can’t any of you people tell that I don’t believe in all of that utter crap. Can’t you see I’m totally above that foolish, make-believe nonsense crafted solely for the misguided and depressed? I think these people are idiots, nuts, insane, basketcase, mashugana!’

That comment left an eerie silence and uncomfortable mood for the rest of my speech.

‘And, mum has helped me through a lot of times in my life where I needed support, she’s contributed a lot of helpful and unhelpful suggestions and ideas (mainly unhelpful, I thought to myself). And she’s always retained her positive attitude, and her personality (why I was making this out to be a good point I don’t know) throughout the years. And, well, I’m not going to harp on with this warm cuddly crap, because personally I want to get the hell out of there, but you get the idea. Thankyou, by the way I was never told I was going to be making a speech – I’d like to see any of you manage an impromptu shoe-lace tying.’

I made my way back to my seat, copping a lot of stares and grunts along the way.

Just telling it as it is.

****************

A little later came another announcement from my sister. I could tell it wasn’t something I’d like.
‘And now a message from Father O’Sullivan,’ said Elise.
Oh brother. Not the bloody priest again. He came at the 45th and that was a nightmare. He chose me to bring out some ‘holy water’ and I deliberately dropped the bowl. My mum and dad are religious (very), they go to church every Sunday and I used to get dragged along occasionally, it was never hard to slip out and they eventually gave up.
And his speech consisted of mainly ‘Thankyou Lord yarp yarp yarp’ ‘Christ is with you blah blah blah’ and a ceremony during which I took a very long toilet break.

***************

So then the speeches were over, and it was crowd interaction time, where everyone would chat for hours, eat cake and get drunk. It wasn’t long before my Aunt Ella came up to me with her daughter (my cousin, aged 10 also).
‘You know Michael, your cousin Elizabeth’s the same age as you, and she’s already got a boyfriend. Are you liking any girls yet?’
‘Er, no, afraid not,’ I muttered, thinking what a stupid question that was. We were only ten years old, she’d probably become some sort of strip dancer if she carried on like that. I pointed at some non-existent sight and edged away.

After wondering through the crowd for fifteen minutes, I settled back into my corner and slapped on my precious headphones. There’s only one conclusion about human philosophy you can draw from things like this. People are crazy.

==============================================

[Meganium]

Sorry I didnt post must have missed it when you posted the last chapter. I liked this chapter great description and everything, length is good. I like how the plot is developing. Keep Up The Good Work, Keep Up

[Mickoz]

Meganium: Thankyou very much! I have a couple of questions for you. 1) I notice you almost always end posts on this board in 'Keep up the good work, keep up'. I find that fascinating. What's up with this? And 2), You're fic's cancelled? Scheizen! No wonder I didn't see it up on Page 1. WHat's up with that?

And Misty, you might be able to help me with this one, do you remember where I was up to last time around with the fic? Do you remember what was happening, cos I don't, and I would like to know when I get up to new chapters.

And to any 'Closet Readers' who might be reading this - I strongly advise you to hit the reply button for there will be great rewards - such as your family's details NOT being given to Al Qaeda.

OK, that won't happen, but please you to be replying if you read yada yada yada.

Here's Chapter Three. (Getting a little closer to the central plot now).

Chapter 3 – The Beginning

After the 50th Birthday disaster, I was itching to disappear from the country for a few months, and possibly join up with a terrorist training camp. In the end I settled for a weekend at Richard’s place. I actually called him up for the first time, begging for refuge from this hell hole.

Richard was extra glad to take me in this time, I could sense it, and I had no idea why. Maybe he’d managed to get his hands on a new Pokèmon trading card, or he’d got himself a new ‘cool-looking graze’, or something just as stupid.

I didn’t even ask permission to go over, I just took off from home as fast as possible, on my bike, bringing nothing. Maybe I should’ve prepared myself slightly better, such as bringing an oxygen mask, because this visit was going to involve something very unexpected, something very unusual, and something, ultimately, very life-changing.

My temper ruled my movement that day, and as my frustration revolved faster and faster through my brain, I began to spin the pedals faster and faster on the bike, forcing elderly shoppers to run faster and faster out of the way. The inevitable happened - as I raced to cross a small road I didn’t notice a silent policeman in the middle and hence the front tyre collided and toppled me over onto the asphalt. To make things more embarrassing, a Volvo came to a screeching halt and the driver got out – lucky I was able to drive off before she got too close.

Five minutes later I bustled into Richard’s place, instantly grabbing a refresher. Richard’s house wasn’t nearly as expensive as mine, but it looked a little more homely. It wasn’t untidy, but lots of crappy plastic toys were often thrown around the floor and left there, giving it a cluttered but once again homely feeling. Physically speaking, it was one of those old federation style buildings with red brick and many fireplaces. The back garden was rarely used, I think Richard’s mother liked to have that as her clean sanctuary. Richard and I mainly used the front garden because it was on the street (and the possibility of getting run over makes it a million times more fun, apparently).

After rotating my head to look around the room as you usually do, I absent-mindedly sat down on my usual comfy chair. I heard a shout behind me and jumped up again, turned round to see that in my haste I hadn’t seen that there was a girl already sitting in the chair.

‘You don’t have a sister, Richard,’ I said as a statement not a question, then turned to the girl, ‘So a) Who the hell are you, b) You’re in my chair.’ She gave me a look of disgust. Quite frankly to me she was an intruder and I didn’t see why I should treat her any differently.

‘That’s Sophie, my girlfriend,’ said Richard.

It hit me like a boulder. When I die, I want it to be as sudden as the impact of those four words. David’s voice echoed in my head for a few seconds, then I felt myself fallback into something very wet and it all blacked out…………

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Richard’s parents weren’t very happy I smashed the fish tank. The fish weren’t very happy either. Richard’s ‘girlfriend’ wasn’t very happy that I’d talked to her like I did. Richard wasn’t very happy that we couldn’t go the beach that day. My parents weren’t very happy I had fainted. And I wasn’t very happy that Richard had a girlfriend. Overall, it was a very unhappy day – with the only bright side that I got back home. But even then I couldn’t enjoy watching TV or playing computer games. Every word the news presenter said somehow reminded me of those four little words. My traditional evening Scrabble game produced my lowest score ever, and my heart sank in to negative territory when I saw the letters S – O – P – H – I – E on my rack (not in that order of course). That was the sort of thing my mother would get hysterical about, raving on continuously about what type of coincidence that was and how it would effect me in the future.

I didn’t know why, but the whole situation with Richard’s ‘girlfriend’ had shaken the beans down inside. After all, in perspective, what significance did that have anyway? Subconsciously I felt it had a lot of significance. Maybe I wouldn’t realise it immediately. I guess, that, all around me people were pairing up with people of the opposite sex (and sometimes of the same sex, to my outrage), and if there was one similarity between Richard and I it was that we didn’t take any interest in that relationship business. Now I had lost that similarity.

And I know what happens when people get girlfriends and boyfriends and the like. They start losing touch with their other friends. And as much as Richard can be childish and annoying, his friendship was something that I needed to be strong. For sanity’s sake.

As well as thinking about Richard, I started thinking about myself. Should I be following Richard’s path?

‘No,’ I answered to myself confidently, and left the subject hanging in the night breeze.

============================================:wave:

(P.S - I know it's a little skimpy on content - the new chapters will be longer).

[mistysakura]

Rather than tell you where you were up to, here's the link to your old thread (http://www.pokemasters.net/forums/showthread.php?s=&threadid=7788).

[Mickoz]

Oh - I didn't know there was still an old thread (seems so long ago).

ANyway, here's a rushed Chapter 4 (things very busy around here)



Chapter 4 – The Girl Called Amanda

I walked into the door of my classroom (late), more heartlessly than usual. It slammed backwards and knocked over the bin while I strode down to my seat, sending a few chairs head-over-heals on the way. There was a piece of chalk on my disk which I proceeded to throw at the blackboard. Only it didn’t hit the blackboard. It hit a girl in my class.

But not to worry, I thought to myself as I watched her rub the spot where the chalk hit her………then look around for the culprit………then swiftly glide back to her seat………brush back her hair and *** I smacked myself out of it. I was gazing at her mindlessly – entranced – very strange. Especially when I had last night’s homework to do. I got it out and concentrated very hard till recess.

Coming back after recess, I bustled up the stairwell daydreaming of being on a cruise…………footloose and carefree…………mmmm………it was night time and I went back to my cabin………on my bed there was someone………OW! I came back to my senses suddenly to see I’d walked into the girl I’d thrown chalk at this morning. Amanda. Her blonde hair was entangled in my face. I brushed it away and strode off again.
‘Hey, watch it, stupid,’ she called out.

At lunch time I browsed through the numerous gadgets in my bag; a walkman; a palm computer; and my digital camera. It was a nice day for some photos, so I took out the digital camera and explored the scene. In the carpark I noticed a ‘L’ symbol on a teacher’s car – ha ha – learner and loner – I got a shot of that. Then I got took one of some nasty graffiti on the toilet wall (just for fun). I could feel the dignity creeping away as I progressed. Well, once in a while you just have to let go – it’s sensible, not silly. Aside from a grievously injured boy there wasn’t anything else to take a photo of, so I went to put it away when a group of girls shouted out to me to take a picture of them. Usually I would have declined impolitely but for some unknown reason I wasted a precious frame on them. Who cares, I could easily buy 10 more rolls of film with the money in my shirt pocket.

That evening I was extremely tired, so I flopped on the bed a lot earlier than usual (9pm or so). In Slumberland I sunk into cruise ship dream again………yeah, there was someone in my cabin…………not a stranger though…………I could feel I was coming back to the conscious level again………desperately trying to see who it was I forced myself to stay in the dream…………..then I turned on the light in the cabin and sitting on the bed was a young blonde girl. How strange.

With that I came back from the subconscious refreshed and awake. I didn’t know what the dream was about and I didn’t have time to care. OK – I did have a fairly good idea what this dream was about, but not wanting to admit it to myself I hooked the digital camera up to the computer and transferred them. Sifting through them didn’t take long, the ‘L’ was pretty boring, the graffiti’s longevity at amusement was non-existent, the injured boy was humorous for a small period of time, and the picture of the girls had turned out blurred. There was nothing else to do, so I tried to fix up the photo and clear it up. A few adjustments to the slider and pushes of buttons did the trick. I stared at the picture, noticing immediately that all the girls had red eye ‘syndrome’. All except Amanda. She was standing proudly but relaxed, with her blonde hair bound up nicely. She was smiling, a rather gorgeous smile in my opinion. Some earrings were dangling off her ears, which seemed to be positioned (like all her facial features) in the formula of the ‘Perfect Face’. (All related 1.6 cm apart or similar). Her skin was white, not albino white but a lovely human white, and her clothes were immaculately clean and stunning.

I zoomed in. Closer, closer, closer until her face occupied the whole screen. I selected it, and copied it into another picture file. After saving, I continued to gaze, absorbing myself in her beauty.

Then came a knock at the door and like lightening I switched off the monitor, threw myself on the bed and stuck a magazine in front of my face before whoever it was came in. I didn’t look, but apparently they didn’t stay long. Laying crouched up in bed, the last and most important realisation came. I sank into a mixed shiver of fear and warmth, but not denial. For there was nothing to deny. It was plain and simple.

I had a crush on this girl.

********

I stared pointlessly at the ceiling for a long time before glancing at the magazine I had been pretending to read ‘Amazing Animals’. Urghl. I threw it like a Frisbee into the bin on the other side of my spacious room.

A million thoughts were flashing through my head, but at that moment I didn’t have the concentration to delve into any of them. Usually in these situations I keep all my thoughts to myself, leave my fantastic brain to solve the problems, but in this situation I had to speak to somebody. And I knew who that somebody was.

Slowly, I picked up my Panasonic digital phone and called Richard.
=======================================

[Meganium]

Nice Chapter Mickoz, I must say that it had great description, the length was kind of short but it was okay. I wonder what Richard is gonna say? the reason whyi say Keep up the good work, Keep Up is because my friends hate the word Keep Up, so I made it a habit to say it to annoy it. I cancelled my fic cuz no one was reading it. My new fic is even better.

[Mickoz]

Meganium: Once again thanks for reading.;) It was a short chapter (and as I said a bit rushed out), the one below is a little bit longer and I like it better.

I also checked out your great new fic as you will see.

And here is:

Chapter 5 – Sunday, Cruddy Sunday

‘Yeah look, cut the crap, I need answers, help, assistance mate, right now!’ I said to Richard impatiently.
‘Hey, don’t you wanna see my new remote control plane first?’ asked Richard as though I could possibly want to see anything in the world more than that plane.
‘No, I bloody well do not, what I want and need is for you to tell me what it’s like being in your situation,’ I replied.
‘What d’ya mean, what situation?’ asked Richard, even though it was blindingly obvious.’
‘Your situation of having a partner of female gender,’ I said.
‘You mean my girlfriend?’
‘Yes of course.’
‘She’s fine, but she did have a cold last week………’
‘Not how she is for pete’s sake,’ I stammered, almost crying at the ignorance of my friend ‘what’s it like for you – having a girlfriend?’
‘It’s pretty neat,’ said Richard.

I paused in disbelief at the lack of syllables in Richard’s response.

‘Is that all?’ I cried, wondering why I bothered coming over anyway, ‘do you feel an increased sense of enthusiasm, self-esteem, adrenalin, overall happiness?’
‘Geez, I mean, we can do without the big words can’t we’ replied Richard, as usual being of no assistance whatsoever. I gritted my teeth very, very hard and the dentist reckons it’s no good for my teeth either. I decided to abandon that question and move on to something with a straighter answer that required little expansive thought on Richard’s part (god help anyone who had to think for once).
‘OK, can you at least tell me this, how did you get her?’ I tried, fingers crossed.
‘Look, we met at my scout group’s cross sex day.’
‘And…………you walked into each other and hugged each other automatically did you?’
‘No, we were walking towards the canteen and she was with a friend. Her friend dropped something and I picked it up for her, then she just asked me which scout group I was in – then I had some free time so I thought I’d watch her group’s tug of war game, and I guess I just liked the way she looked and she liked me. That’s it really.’

He really should have gotten a Nobel Prize for attempting to be informative, because it must have been a terrible ordeal to have to prise his attention away from remote controlled planes to remembering past events for those few seconds. I had come to be educated, I received a pack of crisps and a plastic army soldier. Remarkably similar to our public school system.

***********

Who was I kidding, I thought to myself as I kicked open the door at home later in the day, what could I possibly expect to learn from the world. They were all off their rocker after all.

Speaking of people who were off their rockers, I was greeted cheerfully by my mother.
‘Michael, you didn’t tell me you were going out,’ she exclaimed, with a touch of anger.
‘Right on,’ I replied, calmly, ‘at least you’re not hearing things, yet.’
‘Where were you?’ she asked.
‘Richard’s.’
‘Weren’t you there last weekend? What did you do?’
‘We practised stargazing, that’s what you want to hear isn’t it?’ My mother was used to my sarcastic ways by now, so that comment produced no surprise.
‘I hope you’re still nice to him and his, er, little friend,’ said my mum, it was obviously a question, as she dropped the onion she was cutting, pivoted around to face me and awaited a response. She liked to refer to children as ‘little friends’ or ‘little tots’ or something equally condescending.
‘Yes it was fine,’ I answered, and walked away.

Thank god she hadn’t decided to be inquisitive like she usually was. Richard’s girlfriend was the last topic I wanted to discuss. The most important thing right now was to get inside my room and, where I was safe from all the other monsters that by strange occurrences were related to me and inhabited my residence. When I got there, the very first thing I had to do was check the photos, and make sure nobody had found them and looked at them. They were precious items now. Secrets too. I quickly changed the properties of each photo to ‘hidden’, no explanation required for what that did (hopefully), and gazed at one for a few minutes, until I realised I needed to get on with tonight’s agenda.

The next thing on the agenda was homework. It was Sunday evening and I hadn’t gotten around to anything – I didn’t like homework but I usually did it immediately to get it out of the way. I jumped out of my leather seat and whipped open my diary, quickly scanning through the list of what we had to do; Summary of a Tom’s Midnight Garden (easy, do it on the bus tomorrow, all they want is some wishy washy crap about how good it was to read), ‘Revised addition and subtraction, Signpost Maths page 63’ (that’d take about 15 seconds, Year 6 maths was terribly depressing and seemed to lack, how do I put it, any point whatsoever), and Observe and record the weather and temperatures from 9am – 3pm, Saturday and Sunday.

Well, I was stuffed on the last one, but I could probably get away with just bluffing some figures down. I tried hard to remember what the weather had been like over the weekend, but all that seemed to come to find was the infuriating conversation with Richard, and of course, the photos. Losing interest, I ruled up a wonky table and scribbled random figures down. Hopefully the old bat wouldn’t remember to check it.

Maybe it was anxiousness about homework, or curiosity about Amanda, but strangely I fell asleep right there and then, hours earlier than usual. And in my drowsiness, I had forgotten something potentially fatal.

Indeed, as I snoozed gently on my bed, I was oblivious to the fact that on my $2000 flat, 19 inch black computer monitor, the photo of Amanda’s face was still open for any passer-by to view................

[Meganium]

Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooh!!! I bet his mom is gonna walk in and see it. Good chapter, great length, good description. Keeo up the good work, Keep Up. ;)

:wave:

[Mickoz]

Thanks for reading Meganium.

Been very busy lately, and that doesn't stop now. I'm working on Chapter 6 but it won't be out for a few days. Sorry, I don't know how long its been since an update but it seems like a while, and I'm also behind on the other fics I'm reading.

:wave:

[Mickoz]

Well I took my time on this one - but it's still short, that's a result of having 4 tests in one week - URGHL!

Happily a semi-free weekend is coming up and I'll be able to utilize that time for some writing. In the mean time Chapter 6.


Chapter Six – Speaking and Singing

Here we go again.

The wheels on the bus go round and round, round and round, round and round……………I sang in my head. I slouched even further down off my cold, hard, school-bus seat. The same seat, on the same bus, on the same route, every morning. Even today. Even concerts like today’s had grown to be second nature. I just didn’t get a high from it anymore. A lot of people would be ecstatic through the roof to be singing in front their entire school – but performing had almost become part of the routine for me. It was my first for this year, but there must have been almost a dozen concerts over the last couple of years. Naturally I began to remember some of the highlights – that Foreigner song, ‘I Wanna Know What Love Is’ a little while back, countless Paul McDermott songs, and last years risqué rendition of ‘Pash’ by Kate Cebrano. Those memories were still clear which in a way made them boring, so I occupied myself making up some new tunes for a re-mix.

*****************

Damn sticky-tape! – I cursed to myself. Don’t you just hate it when you can’t find the end of the bloody thing. The bell rang, but I hadn’t finished what I had to do so I ignored it.

What I had to do was put up some more posters for the performance. Bit of a waste of time actually – you spent ages printing out different designs and fighting with sticky tape rollers and then some little brats come along and tear them off and use them as paper planes – nothing like immature little games that, as an added bonus, create more rubbish that people like me are ordered to clean up.

‘Wake up – your supposed to go to class now,’ whined someone behind me. I whirled around on one foot and gave them my classic glare of contempt. A group of girls out of my class were standing there, frowning. I don’t like to use the term ‘out of my class’ because personally a lot of people ‘in my class’ shouldn’t even belong on my planet.

‘Mmmm,’ I said. It was the best I could be bothered to do.
‘You can’t just go doing whatever you like, whenever you like, you know,’ said one of the girls.
‘Yes, because otherwise you’ll “dob” won’t you,’ I remarked.
‘What are you singing this time anyway?’ someone asked.
‘It’s a song called “It’s In His Kiss” by Cher,’ I answered.
‘My god, you like Cher?’ they tried to say but burst out giggling, ‘she’s crap!’
‘Yes well everything’s crap to people of your intelligence isn’t it?’ I snapped back cruelly.
‘Hey, watch what you say to my friends,’ said another new voice, ‘I mean, you’re just horrible.’ I whirled round again.

There was Amanda, blonde, beautiful and smiling at me. OK, not smiling. At all. It wasn’t a good start.

********

The encounter with the girls before school had put me in a bad mood. By the time I entered the hall the last thing I felt like doing was singing to a mob of unforgiving low lives. But since when have I felt like doing something I have to do. God hates me, he really does. Not that I believe in god, but, you get what I mean. I’m sure the topic of religion will crop up later.

The crowd was a good size, full hall, which would mean about 600 people. I interpreted the expression on the faces of many of the kids to mean ‘Oh no! Not another Michael Alonn concert!’ This would have shattered me, if I hadn’t already been shattered from Amanda’s comment.

I climbed the stairs onto the stage where Jonathon, the conductor of the assembly and concert, had just finished toying with the lights.
‘OK, you ready?’ asked Jonathon, who was slotting the CD into the CD Player.
‘I’ve been ready the last hundred times, just get them to shut the hell up,’ I growled.
‘OK people, quieten down, we’re ready to go now,’ Jonathon called out to the audience. The accumulated thunder of chit chat silenced quickly. I got into the starting position. It was only gonna be a small performance, nothing large or that exciting, a chip off the old block. The music started rolling.

********

It had all gone well. Applause was average. I doubt the choice of song was of many people’s tastes, but that’s their problem. I could see Mr Harrington sneaking out the back of the assembly hall for another precious smoko. Everything was fine on-stage. But off-stage, somewhere amongst the crowd, lay a girl and a caption. Her words, simple as they were, echoed terrifyingly inside my head:

‘Hey, watch what you say to my friends.’

‘I mean, you’re just horrible.’

‘You’re just horrible.’

‘You’re just horrible.’

Horrible………………horrible…………..horrible…………..

Today’s moral conclusion: I was a lot better at singing to people, than I was at speaking to people.

==============================================

[Meganium]

So he was singing to the people, I dunno. Good description. My prediction is that Amanda hates his guts.

[Deathman]

This is a great story. You are obviously a very talented writter, especially for your age, but I guess some kids just get really lucky and end up with all the talent (not me :no: ). I seriously can't wait for the next chapter, though, so hurry up :P

[Mickoz]

Thanks for reading and replying guys, especially Deathman, thanks for joining :wave:

This was so slow to get out, and I didn't spend long on it (as a result it is very short), but I promise to get back in to the swing of things. I've been working hard on 'The Grandfather Paradox' which I might start here soon.

I also forgot to mention that nearly each chapter from now is entitled with a certain human emotion, and the chapter will look at that emotion in detail and how Michael deals with it. That's originally how I planned the story.

So here's:


Chapter Seven – Uncertainty

‘Michael, I think you’re starting to lose touch with reality a bit here,’ I said aloud to myself.

I actually dreamed someone would come up to me and tell me that. Every adult has someone they can come and consult about what they should do in a certain situation, or someone they can confide in, and trust, and cry to. It doesn’t go as deep as that for kids. For most kids, anyway. According to adults, kids just sail through their day without a problem. According to adults, all that matters to kids is food, tv and trading cards. For some kids, that couldn’t be further from the truth. And right now it looked like I was one of those kids.

Right now I needed someone to make me realise I was wasting my time around Amanda. I now suffered occasional insomnia, chronic disrupted thought, I was on the verge of nervous breakdowns – all over someone I had no chance of getting.

But that wasn’t going to happen on this planet. My family were hopeless at this, god knows my parents probably met on a desperate reality TV show, and I didn’t want them knowing any details of my personal life anyway.

And my only friend was too busy driving Matchbox cars over peeled batteries to help me understand what a fool I was being. And until someone actually grasped me by the neck, and told me face to face that I was a fool for believing in Amanda and I.

And of course, this wasn’t just an overall issue – I needed an answer for an immediate question. My birthday was in exactly one week. In true Michael Alonn fashion, I hadn’t got around to organization of, um, any kind really. Usually, I would just tick all the boxes (party hats, streamers, banners, other noisy, intrusive instruments) simply because I couldn’t be bothered thinking about it. Besides, I wasn’t paying for it. And typically I would invite most people from my ‘class’ (yes, once again I use the term loosely) – in some vain, desperate attempt to escape from my usual lonely, solemn life and for one day bask in the relaxing, care-free lifestyle of a popular, wild kid. That, and the fact that the more people there are, the more presents there are. Though, technically, the presents were rubbish and obviously picked up while the car was being filled up on the way over.

This year, however, the invitation list presented a large problem – without beating round the bush – should I invite Amanda or not? Sticking to the usual routine could mean tidal waves of regret, but inviting her could create the world’s worst disaster. Entailed with the latter would also mean letting on to everyone about her, something I wasn’t about to do. And on the third or fourth hand, it could be a great opportunity to establish ties with her.

Unfortunately, this was just another one of those complications and decisions that seemed to be assaulting my life this year. And I couldn’t solve them. I needed a proper idle to breath some sanity in to me. At the same time though, I didn’t want to have some adult come up to me and tell me what to do and how to do it and when to do it and where to do it. It was one of those want/need clashes, both sides tearing against each other in a battle for reality. Facing down to my invitations list, I decided to follow my instinct, and do what I knew I wanted to do.

************

That afternoon brought more unease to me. I’d received my results from the Selective Schools exam, and, not to my surprise, I got in to all the high schools I had applied for. So once again, it was a matter of choice. There were big discussions that evening, questions were posed, questions that I didn’t know how to answer. ‘What do you want to be when you grow up?’ ‘Do you want to go to a private school?’ ‘How far do you want to have to travel?’

I found myself repeating the phrase ‘I don’t know’ throughout the night. In the end my patience had run out and I snapped ‘FOR THE LAST TIME, I DON’T KNOW, AND I DON’T CARE’. My parents correctly interpreted this as the signal that the discussion was over, but I was surprised they didn’t inquire why I was angry and what else was on my mind. To me it was fairly obvious my concentration was faced solely on other issues. Yes, not just the birthday issue anymore. There was something else.

There were two schools on the list I wanted to go to. One was a selective boys school, clearly the natural choice, where I would be surrounded by equals. The other school was a comprehensive school, co-educational too. And yes, I knew that was where Amanda was going to go.

Can you appreciate my predicament now? I hate choices, and now I’m left with a painstaking one, a battle between risk and stability, intelligence or love, mind or heart. Chess would be a good analogy for this situation. You’ve got your goals, and your plans of getting there, but deciding is the hard part because you don’t know how the others will react. And one wrong move can ruin it all.

This was a slightly bigger decision than the invitation issue, and as uncertain as I was I decided to follow my instinct once again.

==============================================

[Deathman]

Nice chapter, a bit short, but it does do a nice job of setting Michael's choices/problems for us. Although I assume I don't need to point this out again, but you are a very talented writter.

[Mickoz]

Traditional apologies for taking so very long as usual - I'm not afraid to admit a little bit of writer's block was present over the last week - but I'm inspired again so here goes C8:



Chapter Eight – Sorrow

Eleven hours and eleven minutes and eleven seconds into the eleventh day of the eleventh month. We had just finished our Remembrance Day Silence, and we’d also just reached the second I’d been waiting for all morning. 11:11:11, on the 11/11 – isn’t it strange what people get highs from these days. It was a little sad, I’ll give you that – but everybody needs a little something to light that spark once in a while – especially if you’re not feeling the best.

I certainly was feeling as far from the best as it is possible to get. My birthday party had been less than thrilling – a lot less than thrilling. Presents – crap. Parents – embarrassing. Amanda – not there. Perhaps if Amanda were there I would be feeling a lot better right now – perhaps not. I’ll never know.

But now it was time to focus on the future – the future that was slowly whittling away like a baby with a cheese grater. He he he – baby with a cheese grater. I was amusing myself and I needed to do that. Just to keep me sane and to stop me running out of will to live sometimes. I then went off on a tangent deliberately, thinking of as many disgusting baby jokes as possible – avoiding returning to the subject of the inevitable.

The inevitable was that in fourteen days, two weeks, one fortnight – year 6 would be over. The end of an era would come. I would part from my school, my routine, and Amanda. It shocked me more than anything because now the countdown could be measured in a period of hours almost. Quick calculation………………………24 x 14……………………almost 360 hours anyway. There wasn’t long to accomplish my goal (whatever that was). That was another thing. It had been almost an entire school year of fantasising about Amanda and making realisations and planning moves and worrying and making diary entries and asking questions and making choices and a whole lot of psychological pish posh – for no apparent reason. I hadn’t done anything. I didn’t even know what I was trying to do.

*************

Damn masking tape. At least that was a bit of an upgrade, the sticky-tape was terrible, but this masking tape was as adhesive as positive and negatively charged ions. And yes, I was putting up posters again. For the last time. In two weeks it would be the last concert I would perform at this school. Indeed I didn’t know it, but I wouldn’t be making a performance as special as this ever again in my life.

I ripped up the poster and threw it on the ground. ‘Tosser’ I heard someone call. If I had some more energy I might have managed to reply with ‘Moron’ or ‘Retard’ – but I didn’t feel like it. Besides, Amanda was standing a few metres away from me and if she heard a comment like that – well – it would probably lower my already unbelievably low chances.

I thought for a while about Amanda. No surprises there, I thought about her most of the day now. But then a great idea came to mind. An idea that could possibly maybe perhaps sort of change everything. I ran up to her from behind, there was no time to rehearse what I was going to say, so I just cleared my throat.

‘Amanda,’ I got her attention in the simplest form possible, ‘What’s your favourite song?’

She whirled around stunningly, as though she was the lord mistress of physics. Her golden hair was ruffled beautifully in the air.

‘Born To Try by Delta Goodrem,’ she hesitated, then asked why. I didn’t answer for a while. But I figured I might as well tell her. It was too late for beating around the bush games.
‘The end of year performance – I’ll sing it then – for you,’ I replied 1000 times more hesitantly than she did. I watched her face with great anticipation but all I could tell was that she was thinking a lot more than she was letting on.

It came out like that, you’re thinking. I as good as admitted it straight to her face then and there. Well not really. She already knew. I’d already told her. It was that that was really the crux of my downtrodden persona.

Because it wasn’t that I hadn’t invited her to my birthday.

I had.

She just didn’t come.


==============================================