This is part of the book I'm writing, but this part stands on its own so I thought I'd post it here to get some criticism. The novel itself is actually science-fiction, even though you wouldn't be able to tell it from this chapter.
Jayden wasn’t supposed to go out to the beach this early in the morning, especially before his parents were up, so he quietly slid the glass door shut and put his sneakers on outside. Even though it was mid-April, it was still cold outside so he bundled himself up in a black fleece, but, because he was still wearing shorts, he still shivered involuntarily against the strong breeze.
Afraid that somehow someone would hear him if he ran down the ramp, he took each step gingerly, always worried that at that moment he would hear his mother or father shouting at him to come back in then scold him for trying to go to the beach at 6 a.m. Yet, this was not the first time he had done this.
He enjoyed walking on the beach by himself in the early morning; there was something special about it that made him feel as if he was the only one left in the world. Sometimes he imagined that he was the lone survivor of a nuclear war, or that the beach was his secret lair from which he conducting operations against enemy forces that had captured the United States.
Today, though, he just felt like walking.
Located of the coast of North Carolina, the outer banks form a long chain of barrier islands that protect the state from Hurricanes, so all along the outer banks stand large imposing dunes that one isn’t allowed to walk on, but make great forts all the same. Sometimes in the early morning, Jayden would burrow a small rounded hole in the top a dune and pretended that it was a foxhole and he was waiting for the ships of the enemy to come over the horizon. Once he let his imagination go a little bit too far and began pretending to shoot at people as they walked past. His mother, of course, scolded him.
That was why he liked being out here on the beach alone each morning; no one to tell him he couldn’t do this or he couldn’t try eating that. No one would tell him to be careful as he rushed in and out of crashing waves, and no one to prod him with incessant questioning about what this meant or what that meant.
In truth, he always felt alone and being in a place where he truly was alone made him feel a lot better. It gave him a thrill, but he also felt comfortable here in a way that he could not be anywhere else. It simply felt good to be by himself before dawn’s first light in a place so big, but yet so empty.
Once he got down to the beach, he took of his sneakers, exposing his tanned feet, and placed them underneath the ramp. Someone had told him once that he was the quintessential beach boy; brown hair now made blond from the many hours in the sun, a tan that extended to all parts of the body, and blue eyes that mirrored the ocean and the sky. But unlike most boys, even at his age, in Kitty Hawk, he did not know how to surf. Instead, he just liked rushing in and out of waves or collecting seashells. It was fun and it was something he could do without other people bothering him.
The sky right now was dimly lit and the sun had not yet risen, although he could tell that it was only a few minutes from doing so for a few rays were already breaking over the horizon. The way the light shone at this time of day made it all the more seem like he was the only person left in the world.
In each of his dreams, he was always the most important person in the world, always the guy that saved humanity from disaster. He would replay these dreams, ambitions really, over and over until he had an entire storyline, complete with dialogue, to go with it. At the end of each one, he married a gorgeous woman and lived happily ever after.
A few minutes passed, and when the sun did not come out, he looked back out over the waves and saw a storm coming in; he could even make out flashes of lightning, though it was still at least twenty miles away. He frowned at the prospect of having to spend the entire day indoors with his parents.
He spent another few minutes thinking about why it always seemed to storm on Saturdays before tugging on his sneakers and making his way back toward the house after he noticed that the storm was coming in fast and making the waves a lot higher than normal. By the time he left, the surge was already coming up against the ramp and the storm was no more than ten minutes away. This time he looked at the dunes and thought of them as a long wall built long ago to protect the inhabitants of the island from storms such as this.
He reached the house just in time for just as he slid the glass door shut, his mother came out of the bedroom with her robe and slippers on. She looked groggy and tired, but it didn’t stop her from questioning why he had sneakers and a jacket on.
Jayden quickly decide to pretend as if he was just going to go outside.
“No way, not in this weather,” his mother said. “There’s a storm coming in and I don’t want you getting sucked away in the surge.”
He pretended to be dismayed and meekly said, “Okay.”
If she was a bit surprised by his sudden acceptance, she did not show it, instead resolving to make herself a cup of coffee.
Meanwhile, Jayden threw himself on the couch and picked up a copy of the Iliad by Homer that he had bought at the local bookstore, one of the few stores that stayed opened at this time of year.
He was just now on the part where Achilles was challenging Hector to a fight. He read each line eagerly as the two clashed swords before the high walls of Troy. At last, Achilles scored a fatal blow against Hector, and Jayden whooped with joy. But his joy vanished when it gave way to disgust as he read about Achilles tying the limp body of Hector to the back of a chariot and then dragging him around the city of Troy. He quickly closed the book and decided to read more later.
Abruptly, he said, “Do you think heckler comes from Hector?”
His mother shrugged. “Could be. Sure, why not?” She never looked up from the newspaper in front of hair.
Jayden grunted but let it at that. He thought that it was a brilliant deduction, but felt crushed when his mother did not so much as look at him.
Outside, the storm was already well underway. Outside he could see the fence along the dunes tremble in the strong wind and shutters flapping loudly against the sides of houses.
“When is it supposed to be over?”
“In about two weeks.”
“What!?” he screamed.
She looked up, startled. “Huh? Oh, uh, it should be over by 9 they said. Just a quick storm blowing in from the Bahamas.”
He hoped it was quick; it looked like it was going to take a couple houses with it if it lasted just a few more hours.
