Username or E-mail:
Forget your password?
Young Writers Society
Read / Write
Fantasy Short Stories
Revenge of the Wolves
Mon Jan 09, 2012 3:50 pm
There os a prologue to this, and I love reviews, they're like my candy
“Got to go, Nana.” I grabbed my backpack on the kitchen table and headed for the door.
“Not yet you don’t, sonny, you need to get your lunch.” Said Nana, who was in her bedroom.
“Got it.” In fact, I hadn’t, but I didn’t want her to know that.
I walked back into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. The lunch was in its usual place, the vegetable drawer. I grabbed it. A hand landed on my shoulder and I jumped.
“You got it, huh?” She laugh and walked over to the sink and started cleaning the breakfast dishes.
“You almost made me jump out of my bones.” I exclaimed as I closed the door to the fridge.
“You wish you would be out of your bones and in the grave if I find out you missed the bus, now get.”
I smiled as I ran to the front door. “Make sure to lock the door, don’t want none of your little strippers asking for you.”
“Haha, Nana. Goodbye.”
“And make sure to knock three times once you close the door, you never know. A kidnapper might want you these days.”
“Love you, Nana.”
“Love you too, Jake, but you still need to knock.” She said as she walked to the entrance way, waving her hand towel threatening.
“Will do, Nana.” I closed the door behind me and knocked three times.
The bus stop was a block away, and I was the only one at it except for a little first grader and her mother. The bus arrived late, as usual. I walked to the middle of the bus and sat in an empty seat, like normal.
My stop was the second to the last of the stops. My friend wasn’t at the last stop, but that didn’t surprise me, he usually walks.
We turned the corner of the last bus stop to the road the school was on, passing the Coca-cola factory to the school. The school, was, in fact, the only high school in the county. It looks nice on the outside, but the inside is horrible.
I grabbed my trumpet as the bus lurched to a halt in front of the school. Five other people got off before me, but my friend let me go ahead.
She poked me as we walked to the building where the band room was. We stopped at the bottom of the steps and she hugged me. I started up the stairs as she walked to the main doors.
I walked into the band room and headed to the instrument closet. My trumpet locker was wrenched open, the lock on the floor, melted. I looked inside the locker, all of my music books were burnt to ash, except for one page in my major book. It contained half of one song, “The Star Spangled Banner.”
I grabbed the paper, it was ice cold. Frowning, I stuffed the paper in my pocket and put my trumpet into my locker. The lock was ruined, so I closed it as good as I could.
I couldn’t keep my mind on biology, or French. I couldn’t figure out why my locker in band was the only one like that. I decided not to tell anyone, for fear that the person who did it would overhear.
Geometry passed by in a glaze. I only focused on the paper that was saved. It was the top half of the song, and some of the notes were smudged off.
I still couldn’t understand why this paper survived, a thousand things crossed my mind, but none made sense.
In English, I read a long, boring poem. It was “The Raven.” It didn’t make sense to me, but I read it and made a short speech on how it influenced me to make better choices. At that point, I guess the teacher knew my head wasn’t fully in the game, so to speak.
Band next. I was freaked out what would happen then, if the people who destroyed my locker would seek me out then.
Between classes, I talked to my friend, Brandi, who was going to band with me. She was a clarinet player, and sat in the row in front of me.
“It was only my locker; there is no coincidence to it.” I exclaimed as we walked to the back entrance of the band room. Someone passed and I fell silent. Brandi laughed.
“You are too paranoid, Jake. I’m sure there is some kind of damage to somebody else’s locker. The culprit will be found soon enough.”
“You’re making it sound like I’m making a fool out of myself.”
Brandi stopped in front of me and turned around. “Look, I have known you long enough to know you don’t joke around with anyone very much except for your grandmother. I don’t know what happened, but you just need to tell the teacher what happened with your locker and he will sort all of this out and everything will be back to normal.”
“No, no. I can’t do that. You barely believe me, and you’re my best friend. Just tell the teacher I went home. I have to find this all out.”
She sighed. “You’re making too big of a deal out of this, but I’ll cover for you. So, how are you going to try to find this out?”
I reached into my pocket and pulled out the half-sheet of music and showed it to her.
She studied it carefully and frowned. “These notes don’t follow the song, I may not be a trumpet player, but I know the melody.”
“Really?” I studied the paper and realized she was right, some of the notes were out of place or just gone from the music completely.
“Thanks, Brandi. I owe--” The warning bell rang, which meant they only had thirty seconds to get to class.
“See ya, Jake.” With that, she left. I realized that teachers on their off time would be scanning the hallways for stragglers, and there are cameras everywhere. I hid in the restroom as the tardy bell rang.
“No backing out anymore. Time to find out what this piece of paper means.” I stuffed the paper back in my pocket. In fact, I could turn back right now and accept a tardy, but my adrenaline was rushing and blinding my sense of reality.
I would soon come to realize that I should have turned back when I had the chance.
sass levels loading
Memento homo, quia pulvis es et in pulverem reverteris (Remember, man, that you are dust, and you will return to dust)
— Genesis 3:19
Copyright © 2018
Young Writers Society
All your bananas belong to me.
YWS logo created by Jordan Bobo
Header images ©
About / Info
Become a Supporter
Hosting by YWS
Forums & RPG
Cover Art Creator
Poetic Lines Gen
Story Theme Gen
108,240 Literary Works • 576,395 Reviews