I decided to start a story…

• Locked due to inactivity on Aug 4, '16 4:16pm

Thread Topic: I decided to start a story…

• 

  Jack Attack 1995 Experienced

  13 years ago
  (pardon my terrible punctuation :P)
  
  Once upon a time, a long long time ago, there lived a man. He lived just beyond the borders of Yorkshire and Seneca in a small cottage by the sea. This man was an old man. A frail and sick little old man who had only but a few more breaths to look forward to before he would pass on.
  If you glanced back in time, you might notice that the walls of his cottage are bare. There are no pictures or photographs. For this man is a lonely man. He does not have a family. But if you were a curious sort (like me) you might ask what happened to them. If you did he would only wink at you and reply: “They have gone.”
  “Gone where?” might you ask him.
  “Gone somewhere else. I do not know where.”
  “Do you miss them?” that would be my question.
  “Yes…but I know that they are happy.”
  “If they are gone and you do not know where then how do you know they are happy?”
  “There are certain things that old men know. Like the way I know that these candles I have lit will not stay lit for long,” the old man waved a hand at the tall white candles. “Or the ways I know that the tide will sweep me away this very night and my secrets will be taken to the depths of the sea.”
  “Do you have many secrets?” I quickly asked the old man and sat down on a thick wooden chair. The fireplace glowed warmly next to where we both now sat. It was a cold night, that night I met the old man. A damp and miserable night with wind howling at each of the small cottage’s windows.
  The cottage had only one room. It was a kitchen, a living and dining room; it was a bedroom and a study. The cottage’s blank white washed walls held no warmth and its old roof sagged depressingly. It did not used to be like this. It used to be a place of love and laughter. A place where people wanted to be. It used to be a three storied castle of grandeur. And that castle used to be filled with merry men and laughing ladies. But, like the rest of the old man’s family, it too had gone somewhere else.
  In response to my question, he croaked. “Of course.”
  “Will you tell me about them?”
  The old man chuckled at me warily. “What is there to tell? They are secrets not stories.”
  I laughed with him but it was not genuine. “Although, does not every secret have its own story and every story a secret?”
  The old man stared into the hearth thoughtfully. Slowly, he turned to stare at me with his colorless eyes. “Yes, I suppose you are correct,” he paused. “You are a bright young man, Mr. Grisham.”
  At that moment, I remember a gust of wind propelling itself from behind my back and extinguishing the last of the little old man’s candles. Now, the fireplace was the only light left in the room.
  I ignored the coincidence and instead bowed my head in acknowledgment of his compliment. “And yet, you do not wish to tell anyone of your secrets.”
  “That is a false statement. I do wish to tell someone but something prohibits me from doing so.”
  “And what would that be?”
  “You are not the man I wished to see, Master Grisham. When I sent my letter I asked for William and what I got was you.”
  I gritted my teeth to the point where one of them chipped. If you looked at me today you can still see the mark. “I may not be the exact Grisham you requested for but I am one. You mistakenly wanted my brother: he is dead. So I have come in his place.”
  “Oh, you poor boy. You poor poor boy,” the man shook his head at me. “You came here because you thought of benefiting only yourself. You do not care whether I die today, tomorrow or even in the next minute. All you care about is your power and how to obtain more of it!”
  The fire flickered and we were plunged into darkness. I could not see my own hands, let alone the figure of the little old man. Swallowing fear, I made ready for a remark… but his croaking voice stopped me.
  “I will not tell you my secrets because you are not the one who is destined to know them. The child who shall know all my secrets is the same one who reads this now. They know neither the dangers to come nor the gravity of this situation. This child will read of this conversation over an unusual new way of communication and they will presume it to be fiction. This child is also happens to be your brother’s great-great-great and so on great grandchild,” the old man’s disembodied voice seemed to become more rapid. As if he did not have much time to speak.
  “But child, I speak only to you now, you must remember what young Master Grisham has stated: Every secret does have a story and every story a secret. You must never forget that these secrets have a peculiar way of integrating themselves into your life and binding you with their tales. Never let that happen. I have gone down that particular road many times before and it is not a safe one. Alas I say good bye, my child. This is the last of Master Court Delaney…” The old man’s voice faded gently away.
  It took me a matter of moments to find the courage to stand from my seat. I did not know what had happened for the darkness had shielded my vision, but when the candles were finally lit again, I found I was alone in this cottage.
  The old man had gone.
  The year was 1011, the day was today and the month was this month. If you asked how I am faring, I would say that I am very much alive and very well. I would also thank you for asking. Then, we would continue our discussion until we would both become brutally honest with one another:
  I need those secrets, child. And I need them now.
• 

  dragon ember Experienced

  13 years ago
  you know what jack, I think you or me should make a story that involves a few different people on gtq, I didn't really read your story because I'm not interested in it, but I bet lots of other people would like it, in my story, I am planning to have the gtq people have a strange power that lets them turn into an animal that they are most like
• 

  Jack Attack 1995 Experienced

  13 years ago
  eh I don't know. I basically suck at writing in general so I'd probably screw up your story and then you'd kill me with some super bomb blast :P
• 

  dragon ember Experienced

  13 years ago
  uh, I think you did good, dont just start being mean to yourself jack
• 

  Jack Attack 1995 Experienced

  13 years ago
  *laughs* I'm not, its truthful
  but really i don't think it would work out too well
• 

  dragon ember Experienced

  13 years ago
  grrr I am sick of this, now I'm mad at myself because I did one little mistake around moyashi and now he said that he wont be nice to kids and people who act like one, and I just did one mistake, now moyashi wont want to be my friend anymore, what is wrong with older people, and why am I alwaya constantly the target to selfish people, I COMPLETELY HATE THIS!!!
• 

  Moyashi Experienced

  13 years ago
  I am a GIRL. -_-
• 

  dragon ember Experienced

  13 years ago
  ... X forces myself not to scream X ... sorry X leaves X
• 

  Moyashi Experienced

  13 years ago
  And stop switching my words. You wonder why people hate you.
  I said: "I'm no longer reasoning with people who act like children."
  
  Get your story right.
• 

  Jack Attack 1995 Experienced

  13 years ago
  dragon, lets be completely honest here: You sometimes do things that offend others. Whether you mean to for attention or you don't even realize your doing it, it still happens. And screaming about it,kid: Does not work.
• 

  Hatshepsut237 Senior

  13 years ago
  :O I.Love.The.Story.
• 

  Jack Attack 1995 Experienced

  13 years ago
  yesss *penguin dances happily*
  thanks hat
• 

  Alana Advanced

  13 years ago
  whoa, that's really, really good jack!
  :D is it bad that i can totally hear a british storyteller reading it? hehe...
• 

  Jack Attack 1995 Experienced

  13 years ago
  Okay I figured I might as well add to it :P
  Chapter one
  
  There was a slight nip in the November air. The kind of air and weather that makes you want to button up your coat just one more notch. Cold wind rustled the leaves of a tall oak tree and swayed its mighty branches. The tree had been there for decades, if not longer. And Dan could hardly think of a time when the tree didn’t appear in the older photographs of his home.
  The house had been in the Swift family’s possession since it was built in 1701 which was long before any man thought of coming up with the camera. No one could ever be completely sure whether the tree had been planted there by someone or if it had just lived in that spot its entire life.
  He liked that about his tree. It had gained enough respect over the years that no one thought about cutting it down anymore.
  You might as well just tear down the rest of the house , he thought and rolled over on his side. From where he lay on the top branch, Dan could see every inch of his home and a little of the road in front of it.
  It was a two storied building with clean walls of grey and white stone. Tiny terraces threaded their ways across the sides of the roof and gargoyles gifted the peaks. Anyone with one eye could see that this was an old home. Its huge garden and spouting fountains only added to the feeling of historic meaning.
  Dan whistled a careful tune as the breeze blew his branch a bit more. He had to remember that he was twelve now. If he picked a weak branch or if the breeze caught him unprepared, he might not make it to see if he could still climb at thirteen.
  But he was careful. That was his best quality. He could be careful and yet daring at the same time therefore he made an excellent climber…at least he liked to think so.
  *beep* *beep* *beep*. The repeating noise interrupted his quiet thoughts and made him sit up. With one hand holding onto the branch, he used the other to turn off his watch’s alarm. The watch had been a gift from his father for his eighth birthday. It was the last present his dad ever gave him so Dan kept it on himself at all times.
  Glancing one more time at his favorite tree, the boy slid down the remaining branches to the bottom. His feet hit the ground with a terrible jolt. If he had been anyone else, he would have immediately fallen onto his backside but after years of climbing down and being jolted, Dan wasn’t just anyone else. His feet were firmer and more ready for the impact. Plus an incredible balance helped him keep his footing on the sloppy wet grass.
  Dan Swift took off running for his house at light speed. He knew that if he was late for dinner one more time his mom would have a fit. He felt his dark brown hair whip past his ears as his legs leapt over various bushes and weeds.
  He finally made it. Without bothering to pause and shut the door, he entered his home breathless.
  “I-I’m here. I made it!” he called out to no one in particular.
  The room he stood in was the living room. It was painted a soft beige color with dark maroon curtains outlining each of its long windows. A rug of the same maroon tone lay gently in the middle of a sea of hardwood flooring. This was one of Dan’s favorite rooms because it always felt more of a study than anything else. Short comfy chairs were scattered about while lengthy desks were placed evenly at the edges. Tall bookshelves lines each wall, each filled with voluminous collections of novels and classics. The books were his father’s of course. Even from ten feet away Dan could see his dad’s old favorites: Count of Monte Cristo, Around the World in 80 Days and Journey to the Center of the Earth were a few he picked out instantly.
  “Good job,” his sister muttered from near one of the windows. He and Erin had always looked incredibly similar even though she was two years older. From their same coloured hair to the freckles speckled across both of their noses. The only major difference, besides their gender, was that she had green eyes while he had blue.
  Dan ignored her and walked directly to the computer on the other side of the room. The PC turned on with a slight hum and he clicked on an icon to check his email.
  “Come on, Slivers! You know you want to move that bishop!” he heard his sister exclaim from the window. Erin was staring intently at their cat with her dark green eyes. As if that would help him learn chess faster.
  Dan scrolled down his messages. “Give it up already. I mean I know he’s smart and everything but chess?”
  Erin huffed indignantly and set their black cat, Slivers, on the floor. He ran off with a grateful meow. “I don’t understand it. He knows the rules… I guess he just doesn’t like the concept.”
  “Pfft, he is one strange cat,” he clicked on one that caught his eye. “I mean think of having to deal with your chess lessons for three weeks! Man, he sure has a lot of nerve.”
  A whoosh of air was all Dan heard before something cracked into the back of his skull. “Oww! Geez, I’m sorry. What was that thing anyway?”
  Erin laughed from her seat across the room. “Rubik’s cube.”
  “Nerd.”
  “Tarzan.”
  Dan turned his attention back to his email. It had just been sent a couple hours before from some unknown email address. He had been about to delete it but figured to just give it a shot. Now, he was glad he did.
  “Hey, Erin,” he pointed to the screen. “Look at this.”
  Rustling a few papers in the process, his sister made her way over to the computer. “What?”
  “Read it.”
  “Once upon a time …blah blah blah… secrets …” she paused at the end. “Wow, that’s like really good. Did you write it?”
  He raised his eyebrows at her. “Oh yeah, I do that a lot actually. I write awesome stories and then send them to myself. Helps build my self-esteem.”
  “Oh shut up, you know-”
  “Erin, did I just hear you tell your brother to shut up?” Mrs.Swift appeared wearing a short black evening dress. She was going on another date.
  “I wish you didn’t…” Erin muttered.
  “But I did and that’s what matters,” she turned around happily. “How do I look?”
  “Fast and way too aggressive. But I guess if that’s how he wants to spend the end of the date anyway…” Dan chortled while Erin snickered next to him.
  Their mother looked shocked at her son’s sense of humor and a slight reddening reached her cheeks. “That is not funny. You know Howard is a gentleman.”
  “Well, that just shows doesn’t it? Doesn’t make sense for you to be dressed up like this if he doesn’t care either way.”
  Erin jumped in to help her brother, “Besides it’s only been-”
  “Four years. It has been four years!” she snapped at them. An awkward silence filled the room. Finally, Mrs. Swift said, “He’ll be here soon so I want both of you to eat dinner. I left it in the kitchen.” With that she scurried away to wait by the front door.
  Dan leaned back in his chair. “So what now?”
  “We eat dinner.” Erin sighed.
  They both left the study/living room, not noticing the black cat listening in on their conversation. From the landing Slivers could see and hear just about anything that happened in that room, the front entryway and a couple of hallways. Plus from a small window not far from where he was sitting, he could view the whole front yard.
  The old cat meowed mournfully. He hated that Grisham would choose tonight to send the email. When their mother is out? Slivers shook his graying black head. The man had neither an ounce of decorum nor honor in his body.
• 

  Jack Attack 1995 Experienced

  13 years ago
  Slivers was still at the landing when the door bell rang twenty minutes later.
  “I’m coming! I’m coming!” Mrs. Swift called excitedly from her seat not five feet from the door. The old cat rolled his eyes and headed downstairs so he could keep an eye on the kids.
  In the kitchen, Dan and Erin were cleaning up their plates.
  “Here Slivers.” Erin fed him a piece of chicken. The cat took it gratefully, hopping onto a counter.
  “Won’t that give him gas?” At Slivers’ hurt look, Dan added. “Sorry…”
  Erin laughed but it was cut off by a louder one. The other laugh was shrill like a birthday balloon that you carefully stretch out so the air squeaks. It was followed by a low chuckle and the slamming of the front door.
  “And they are off!” Dan shouted, jumping in the air with a fist raised.
  Erin rolled her eyes. Everyone seemed to be doing a lot more of that lately. “Could you be more of a dufus?”
  “Yes, I hold back for your sake.”
  His sister dumped their plates in the dishwasher. “That’s kind of you.”
  “It is,” Dan nodded and left the kitchen with Slivers unknowingly at his heels.
  He climbed the narrow staircase, took a right, walked down an even narrower hallway and stopped at the last door on his left. It was his father’s office.
  Four years ago, you would have needed a key to get into this room but now, it pushed open with a gentle swing. Right away the crisp smell of paper and cologne hit him. Even though his father was gone, his signature scent still remained in the crowded office. Dan wiped a bit of dust from his hand after he shut the door from the inside. Nobody had been in here since the accident.
  It hadn’t been much; the accident. His father had just been crossing the street and a driver hit him. That was it. No fist fight, no shoot out. Just a jay walking businessman late for a meeting and an elderly old lady who didn’t have enough sense to hit the brake.
  His hand clenched at the memory. Then, unclenched just as fast. He wasn’t going to be angry about it, not anymore.
  “It was an accident…” Dan breathed, walking slowly over to get what he had come for.
  A small photograph hung loosely in its frame. It only took a gentle tug for it to end up between his fingertips.
  “Hey Dad.” He murmured to the black and white photo. A young man in a suit and tie stared back at him. A calm smile splayed across his father’s lips contradicting the mischievous twinkle in his eyes. If the photo had been coloured, they would have been the same dark blue as Dan’s.
  “You know you’re not supposed to be in here.”
  The boy jerked around. “Neither are you.”
  “That’s why I’m not.” Erin pointed to her feet. She was right. She hadn’t crossed the threshold.
  Dan snorted, tucking the photo into his back pocket. “You should be lawyer.”
  At that moment a loud crash was heard from the floor below.
  The children stared at their feet.
  “What. Was. That?” Erin said slowly.
  His blue eyes glinted the same mischievousness at the man in the photograph. “Dunno but I really want to find out.”
  The brother and sister took off down the hallway but slid to a stop at the landing. Slivers was blocking their way down.
  Every hair on that old cat’s body was standing up on end. It could have been a porcupine if only it hadn’t been hissing. Tendrils of saliva dripped onto the wooden floor as his yellow cat eyes took in the scene from below.
  One of the windows had been broken.
  “No way…” Dan whispered and bolted past Slivers.
  “Dan! Ohmygod, how stupid can you get?” she added and race after her little brother.
  He’s here. After all these years, he finally comes… and I am not ready. The cat yowled after them but kept at his place. His time to help them would come later. That he was sure of.
  Dan stopped in the middle of the study, gazing intently from the shards of broken glass to the window. As if he could make them magically glue back together again. Erin came to stand next to him.
  The seconds seemed to blur and stretch as they watched the maroon curtains whip wildly in the breeze. Outside the sky was black as pitch. Odd for so early at night. An owl hooted and then…
  The world exploded.

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