This is yet another beginning to the book i hope to write, and yes i know this sucks. So please comment, and help me fix it up in anyway you can. Thanks! I'll try my hardest to return comments!
Prologue- Secret Club House:
Sam and I were the most destructive fourth grader’s the world had ever seen.
Together we managed to destroy the town’s fountain, set the city Christmas tree on fire more than once, blow up a good section of city hall and create a hole in the town’s center that we insisted went all the way to china. Somehow, we never go caught though, and faulty wiring seemed to take the blame most often.
“Sam, seriously that match isn’t going to light itself,” I murmured.
“I know, I know, give me a second.”
She pulled the very flammable piece of wood out of the box, and struck it against the rough patch on the cardboard. It flared up instantly, and she hurriedly held it to the stack of newspapers I’d gathered from my front porch.
They went up in flames, and heat spread through my body.
“Thank god. I was freezing.” Sam shivered.
“Awesome. Now we can get down to business.” I shuffled through my lap full of yellowing paper. On each sheet was a crudely drawn picture of a floor plan, and I spread them over the floor of our club house.
They fit nicely on the fluffy green rug, and I slid off my plastic chair to the rough wood boards below.
Sam added a log to our little stove. We weren’t supposed to be around regular stoves, let alone one with very dangerous flames, inside a highly combustible hut.
But luckily for us, Sam’s parents didn’t really pay much attention to her. Actually, I’d only ever seen her mother on one occasion, and that was fleeting.
So we mostly stayed out in our club house and stole things that people were throwing out. We’d gotten this stove when her extremely ancient neighbors croaked. Their son was just going to bring it to the dump, but we managed to drag it away. The guy was concerned at first, but after a while he reasoned that it was less work for him.
My parents knew nothing of this secret place we hung out, and they would never find out, if our pact held. We vowed never to let anyone in on our secret, and I would always keep that promise. Hopefully Sam would too.
We happily examined the plans for our next heist, not realizing how much our lives would change seven years later.
Chapter One-Seven Years Later:
I was sailing away on the open sea. The waves were rough, but I felt right at home, as I was tossed and spun relentlessly by the wind.
The gales seemed to be speaking to me, whispering things. I listened hard, not able to understand until I barely made out the words, wake up.
“What?” I called out into the storm, not sure what that phrase was supposed to mean. Wake up? Wasn’t I already alert?
“Wake up!” The voice was louder this time.
I leaned over the edge of my ship, unable to see out into the ocean any more. It was fading, but I was still being rolled from side to side by and unknown source.
“FOR HADES’ SAKE JUST WAKE THE HELL UP ALREADY!”
I sat up with a jolt and nearly head butted my best friend, Samantha Cooper.
She was always saying weird things like that, but I thought it was kind of funny, so I never complained about it.
“Damn! Give me a second to get oriented!” I shouted back, reminding myself that I wasn’t on a ship, and that I wasn’t in a storm.
I breathed slowly in and out for a minute or so, then rubbed my eyes and yawned. My arms reached towards the ceiling in an attempt at stretching, and I swung my feet off the recently added cot.
Some people down the street had just ended their garage sale. Sam and I were pleased with our new items, one of which was the bed I’d been sleeping on. We were going to take turns using it, and I’d won the rock, paper, scissors battle, so I got to stay on it first.
Sam was starting the fire, and I yawned again as I stood, barely touching the ceiling of our amazing fort. The green rug was now fraying, and losing it’s vibrant color, but it would still do the job we needed it to.
Except nowadays, I wasn’t spreading plans over it’s fluffy mass. No, the terrible two weren’t up to anything. In fact, we hadn’t set anything but the paper in our stove on fire for several years.
It was quite boring, but I found myself getting used to the slow cadence of town life. I went to school, suffered through the snow of the winter, and the sweltering heat of the summer, and on weekends, spent my time in our ‘house’.
As I was thinking all this, my best friend was trying to see if she could get the tag of my pillow off with her teeth.
“Sam, what are you doing?” I asked, trying my hardest not to let my annoyance, and yes, a little bit of laughter, sneak into my tone.
“Dis freakin’ ‘ag wan comn aff,” for some reason I couldn’t understand, she was trying to talk while still ripping at the fabric.
“What?”
“This freaking tag won’t come off!” She glared at my pillow, and I again marveled at her weirdness.
“Why does it matter?”
“Cause it’s half torn away, and it just… bugs me!”
I gave in and held my pillow while she yanked and pulled. Finally, with a loud ripping sound, the fabric gave way, and I flew backwards, hitting my head against the door.
My eyes began to water, and I winced as I sat up.
“Ow.”
“Sorry.” Sam wasted no time in throwing the label into the fire, along with the feathers that had popped out of the large hole we’d created in my pillow.
I was still leaning against the entrance to our fort when it suddenly opened, depositing me on the ground an inch from a pair of black combat boots.
I heard Sam’s scream as I forced myself to my knees. The person in the doorway kicked me in the stomach just as I straightened, and I doubled over in pain.
Something was spraying all over me, but I couldn’t tell what it was. My mind was too busy trying to figure out if my ribs were broken. The smell seemed familiar though, and I instinctively recoiled.
I heard the sound of a match strike, and then I understood. We were bathed in gasoline. And for some reason I couldn’t comprehend, we were going to die.
The tiny flaming piece of wood fell to the floor as if in slow motion. I watched it tumble head over heels in it’s journey, knowing I couldn’t do a single thing to stop it from landing.
For a second it seemed like the gas wouldn’t catch, but too soon, everything ignited in an explosion of pain.
I ended up zooming back towards earth at some point, and I remember thinking, this is it. I’m going to die.
That’s about when I passed out.
