Darkness Chapter 1

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Hearing and listening are two very different things. One is simply acknowledging sound. And the other is comprehending the things that can be heard.
But when you refuse to listen and demand to be the only one heard, you are left in total darkness…


Chapter 1

I threw my pillow across the room and leaned over the messy bed. My pale hand shook uncontrollably as I reached for the gun. I gripped it tightly and held it to my chest, taking slow, deep breaths. My heart pounded rapidly as I thrust the gun into my sweatshirt pocket and slung my ratty backpack over one shoulder. Every little anxiety-filled step I took down the hallway seemed thunderous. My heart stopped as I stumbled and took an agonizingly loud step to catch myself. I squeezed my eyes shut and waited. Nothing happened. Sighing a bit louder than I would have liked, I forced my sore legs to move once more. I gradually turned the corner, my arm scratching against the off-white wall as I met the very thing that stopped me last week: the door.
The rain poured down and splashed about on the grass that spread out in front of me; just on the other side of the transparent door. The rhythmic pings of the raindrops on the roof urged me forward, while the vast, never-ending black sky mocked me.
A faint click sounded from behind me. My stomach jolted into my throat. I spun on my heel to see light seeping out from under the door to my parents’ bedroom. Fear shot through my rigid body as I heard footsteps approaching on the other side of the wall.
I jumped up and slid over the countertop; my sneakers squeaking quietly as I landed softly in the kitchen. My dad opened his bedroom door and I ducked as light billowed out and filled the room. My breath caught in my lungs.
Low, incomprehensible murmurs seemed to come from just above my head, but I didn’t dare look up. A glass bottle scraped the counter as it was lifted up. My father took a loud gulp of liquid before his heavy feet stomped back to his room. All light cut off as he shut the door.
Exhaling unsteadily, I leaned back against the refrigerator, letting my backpack slip from my shoulder. I closed my eyes and tilted my head upward, trying to calm my dangerously fraying nerves as exhaustion set in from sleepless nights.
You can do this. I told myself half-heartedly.
I silently stoop, pulling my black hood up to cover my lanky hair as I put my backpack on once more. I ignored the unease that churned in my stomach and willed myself to take the few steps to the back door.
I peered out into the night as the rain continued to fall impatiently. Guilt and sadness tore at my heart as I grabbed the doorknob. My other hand snaked into my pocket, to lie on the gun, my index finger resting on the trigger.
Quietly twisting the knob, I pushed open the door. I stood in the doorway for a moment—the open, empty space intriguing me, luring me further.
I pulled my hood down so it shielded my eyes from the downpour of rain and stepped out into the darkness.

---

Every step seemed to echo. Every breath seemed to roar. The rain pounded the ground; adding to the noise that screamed in my ears.
Slowly, I pushed a piece of wet hair back and away from my face. My ponytail plastered to the back of my neck and my entire sweatshirt sagged with the weight of the rain as the storm raged on. Bright flashes of light exploded out all across the black sky, trailed closely by booming thunder. I shivered in the cold and tried to warm my hands with my shaky breath.
A distant glimmer caught the corner of my eye. Spinning, my dark gun flashed out of my pocket and I nearly fired. Nothing was there—which I think frightened me more than if something had been. A harsh breeze blew between the buildings; flinging water mercilessly at my face. My soaked hood whipped off just as another crackle of thunder tore through the sky. A gasp escaped my lips as my muscles tensed.
I cautiously pulled the drenched hood back up and continued walking. My knuckles gradually turned a haunting white color from how tightly I had been gripping my 9mm. Anxiety, guilt and fear swirled in my stomach which each step.
What am I doing? I asked myself in disbelief, swallowing the lump in my throat.
I squinted through the rain. At the street. At the parked cars. At the lights in the windows. I took a deep breath and rolled my shoulders back.
It’s cool. He’ll get it. I assured in my mind—attempting to encourage myself.
Drawing out every second, I turned to face a tall apartment building. I glanced up at the window directly in the middle of the fifth level. Amidst the pouring rain, I could make out the faint glow of a TV. All of a sudden, the cold, wind and rain seemed a little bit more inviting.
Desperately needing to think everything through, I sat down on the curb, placing the gun back into my pocket. Leaning forward, rain dripped off my nose. The tapping of the drops on my head and back brought me to a calm I hadn’t met all night. After a few breaths, I stood once more. My legs buckled beneath me and I barely stayed upright by lunging out to hold a street lamp.
I swore and struggled to get my balance back. When I could stand properly again, I took a couple hesitant steps toward the apartment building—my eyes locked on the same window the entire time. Then an idea popped into my head.
Feeling at least a little relieved, I pulled my cell phone out of my more-than-damp jeans, wiped the screen to no avail and began to dial the number. My fingers fumbled about, giving me the need to go back and redial the phone number at least five times before I got it right. Pressing the speaker to my ear, I could hear a soft ringing. The phone rang tauntingly four times before it was picked up.
“Hello?” a voice cracked through the phone.
I froze and almost dropped it.
“Hello?” the person on the other end of the line repeated.
All I could do was stand there and breathe into the phone. I momentarily forgot who I had called. Yaakov. I reminded myself.
“Sam, c’mon. I got caller ID, remember?” Yaakov sighed impatiently. “What’s up?”
Breaking the short silence that had fallen, I instructed, “Look outside.” My voice shook as I spoke and bit my bottom lip.
“What?” he questioned irritably, but I could hear he was getting up. “Sammy, you do realize what time it is, don’t you?
“I knew you’d be up.” I muttered weakly. My eyes wandered up to his window when he didn’t reply. I could barely recognize his silhouette staring down at me. “Yaakov?” I asked nervously.
No answer. His figure disappeared from the window.
“Yaakov?” I said again.
Nothing. No reply. No movement. For a few minutes, I was alone with the rain. It was terrifying and invigorating. If felt like crying. My jaws hurt from clenching them so tightly.
The front door to the apartment building swung open. Yaakov stood there—six foot six—and nearly clipped his head on the doorway as he stepped out into the rain, his dark skin blending against the darkness. He shook his head as he came closer to me.
I smiled meekly, trying to fight back tears that came on even stronger.
“What the hell are you doin’ out here, Sam?” Yaakov laughed and placed his large hand on my shoulder.
I looked hesitantly into his deep, brown eyes and whispered, “I left.”
His look changed to that of concern and shock. “You left?” he took my backpack and I didn’t try to stop him. “For real, this time?”
I nodded once and cast my gaze to the ground, water running off my face.
“You’re soaking wet. Way to choose a nice night to go wandering the streets.” Yaakov tried to lighten the mood.
I laughed humorlessly and stared off to the side.
“Well, c’mon, kid. I’m not gonna let you stand out here and get pneumonia.” He hugged my shoulders tightly and let the way into the building.
A rush of hot air hit my face as soon as we stepped in. I sighed in relief and enjoyment to the warmth. After a few moments, Yaakov chuckled at me and we entered the elevator.
“So…you’re out now, huh?” he pressed. I knew he wouldn’t be able to resist asking more about it.
“Yep.” I said calmly, feeling drastically better.
“Well…if you’re happier this way, I’m glad you did.” The pride in his voice forced me to smile. “You’re always welcome to stay here with us, alright?” he pulled my hood down off my head as the elevator doors slid open.
“Really?” his reaction was completely unexpected. I had thought we’d have to argue about it. He never supported the idea of me leaving my parents.
“Course.” He grinned and ruffled my hair before adding, “On one condition…”
Last edited by gamechanger10 on Mon Jul 06, 2009 7:19 pm, edited 2 times in total.
"The difference between the right word and almost the right word is the difference between lightning and the lightning bug." -Mark Twain




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gamechanger10 wrote:I threw my pillow across the room and leaned over the bed. My hand shook uncontrollably as I reached for the gun. I gripped it tightly and held it to my chest, taking slow, deep breaths. My heart pounded rapidly as I thrust the gun into my sweatshirt pocket and slung my backpack over one shoulder. Every little anxiety-filled step I took down the hallway seemed thunderous. My heart stopped as I stepped on a potato chip. Sorry but the potato chip thing is very cliche...? Try something else. :wink: I squeezed my eyes shut and waited. Nothing happened. Sighing a bit louder than I would have liked, I forced my legs to move once more. I gradually turned a corner to meet the very thing that had stopped me last week: the door.
The rain poured down and splashed about on the grass that spread out in front of me. The rhythmic pings of the raindrops on the roof urged me forward, while the vast, never-ending black sky mocked me.
A faint click came from behind me. My stomach jolted into my throat. Oddly worded. Use "jump" instead. I spun on my heel to see light seeping out from under the door to my parents’ bedroom. Fear shot through [s]my[/s] me as I heard footsteps approaching on the other side of the wall.
I jumped up and slid over the counter top; landing softly in the kitchen. I ducked down when I my dad opened his bedroom door. Light billowed out and filled the room. My breath caught in my lungs.
Low, incomprehensible murmurs seemed to come from just above my head, but I didn’t dare look up. I could hear a glass bottle scraping the counter as it was lifted up. My father took a loud gulp of booze before I heard his heavy feet stomp back to his room. All light cut off as he shut the door. Where is she throughout this whole exchange...behind the counter? Try to describe that more.
Exhaling unsteadily, I leaned back against the refrigerator, letting my backpack slip from my shoulder. I closed my eyes and tilted my head upward, trying to calm my dangerously fraying nerves.
You can do this. I told myself half-heatedly.
I silently stood, pulling my hood up to cover my hair as I put my backpack on once more. I ignored the unease that churned in my stomach and willed myself to take the few steps to the back door.
I peered out into the night as the rain continued to fall impatiently. Guilt and sadness tore at my heart as I grabbed the doorknob. My other hand snaked into my pocket; to lie on the gun, my index finger resting on the trigger.
Quietly twisting the knob, I pushed open the door. I stood in the doorway for a moment—the open, empty space intriguing me—luring me further.
I pulled my hood down so it shielded my eyes from the downpour of rain and stepped out into the darkness.


Whoa, that was intense, might I say so. I feel like you have a good start but you do start a lot of sentences with "I" and a lot of telling is going on. Try to cut that down to a minimum.

Otherwise, I found this to be good. :D
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Oooo, I really like this!
The description and word choice is really good and you capture the emotion of this person very well.
I didn't find anything wrong with it so kudos to you! :D

I'm giving you a gold star! :D

-Carly
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I just edited it. Well...posted the edited version.
I decided to turn this into my NaNo for last November, so it's a novella thing now.
This is just the beginning.
"The difference between the right word and almost the right word is the difference between lightning and the lightning bug." -Mark Twain




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Well, I didn't spot anything wrong with this that Ash didn't catch. But I did want to point out a couple things: Telling and punctuation.

The piece mainly consisted of the following: I moved. I spoke. I did this. I did that. Try to incorporate a little of what you think you would be seeing or feeling in such a situation. Was it cold? Did the air cloud as the MC breathed? Was there a loud ticking of the clock in the silent house? Rough examples, but you see what I mean, right? We'd like to see more description, setting, and showing.

And the punctuation? Needs editing in some parts. If there is dialogue with tags, there is always a comma instead of a period. And you don't always need tags, by the way. Sometimes it's fine to leave the words by themselves.

That's all I have, I think. Oh, but I was wondering... is the MC gay? Sorry to offend if he isn't, but that was actually the impression I had reading towards the end of the chapter...

Anyway, keep writing.

KJ




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Ha. No, actually, the MC's a girl. And a straight one at that.
"The difference between the right word and almost the right word is the difference between lightning and the lightning bug." -Mark Twain



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