Hi, basically I'm rewriting something that I wrote back when I was 14, and it used to be an obvious copy of another well-known novel, so I'm trying to fix it as I go. This is totally for fun and satisfaction, but I can still say it's still in beta stage. First things first though - I'm lousy at descriptions and expressing my ideas. If you like to fix that, I'll appreciate it, but only if they work for the story. It might get boring and cliche later, but you'll see that for yourself. As I said, this isn't supposed to be serious work, but I enjoy writing and showing my 'masterpiece' so please bear with me. :) By the way, this says Chapter One but it's like a prologue at the same time, so I'm not sure which way works. Other than that, enjoy and be kind with me. Thanks!
A DAY AT THE PSYCHOLOGIST’S
Patient: Doctor, there is a monster living inside me. I think I can kill it only if I kill myself.
Doctor: If you think there is a monster living inside of you, why don’t you chase it out instead of killing yourself? Change yourself in the way you think can get rid of it.
Patient: I do not think I can get rid of it, that’s why I want to kill myself.
Doctor: And what makes you think that?
Patient: I have the Scronex Scars.
Doctor: ... Please kill yourself.
CHAPTER ONE
It was the year 2281 on Earth. If one from the 21st century wanted to know anything about it, they would be quite disappointed to know that the landscape had hardly changed. Earth was the same way as it had always been, lush green – or brown – and blue with gray to indicate more modernly developed areas. There were neither flying shoes nor teleportation to the other side of the world within seconds, or intelligent robots that tried to take over the world. Those are old-day science fiction.
But it would be safe to say that, indeed, talking robots that could perform house chores existed, and cars could fly, though only by some law, and underground cities were possible.
Best of all, there was peace. That is, if the lack of wars of blood and metal counted as being peaceful.
There had not been a great war since the 2100’s, the last being where almost half of the world’s population had perished. Those who survived and lived to tell the stories to their descendants passed on warnings as well, and the tradition continued till this day, repeated so often that stories of wars became fairy tales with moral values, ceasing to exist except in jokes to laugh off. Indeed, by the 2200’s, the last thing one could worry about was how to hand in homework on time.
However, while wars may cease to exist among humans, there were other wars that most did not know about. How could they, if they never believed that there were not alone in the galaxy?
Before this becomes a book of boring old history of the galaxy, let us zoom into Earth, into Texas State in the North American continent, to a lone house in the middle of a vast desert.
A seven-year-old boy was sitting on a chair in the front porch, a mini notebook placed on his crossed legs. His little fingers ran over the keyboard expertly, controlling a spaceship and zapping at some shapeless green three-eyed aliens. He had dark chocolate brown hair falling over cool blue eyes, which were currently trained on the computer screen, jaws set with concentration. The boy was waiting for his uncle and aunt to return from Sterling City, the nearest metropolitan area of which could only be reached within an hour by car.
This house, which he lived in, was a regular modern two-storey home as found in the cities. It sat in the middle of a warm desert, lonely and isolated from civilization. As the sun set in the horizon, it cast a reddish golden light across the land. A chilly wind picked up slightly, tossing sand and tumbleweeds all around. That was the drawback of living in a desert – the temperature could be 40 degrees Celsius during the day and negative 10 degrees by night, with very little cloud or rain to help the dry air. It was a wonder how anyone could live out here, but the boy was a wonder himself.
His parents had died when he was only two. He did not know how they had died, and the only thing his uncle, who adopted him after the incident, would tell him was that they were murdered. The murderer was unknown either, as he had not seen a face, but heard his mother screaming for her younger brother to take him, while perishing in the fire herself. He must have cried some nights, but his uncle treated him like his own son, and eventually, the boy treated him and his later married wife like his very own parents. He did not have any cousin, but he was a strong little child and could handle himself alone.
A crash sounded from the notebook as the enemy’s spaceship collided into a star and disappeared into oblivion. His handsome young face lit up in triumph as the words ‘You’ve Beaten Level 10’ appeared on the screen. “Alright! I’m king of the galaxy!” he squealed.
Just then, amongst the excitement, something bright lit up the dusky area. The boy looked up in surprise, shielding his eyes that had reduced to mere squints from the white flash with his arm. They grew bigger in astonishment as a large object, unlike the one in his game, lowered itself to the surface of the earth about five hundred yards from where he was. It kicked up a strong breeze, and sand started rolling more violently. His instincts overtook his muscles as he closed the notebook, jumped up with it under his arm, and ran into the house, slamming the door before dashing into the living room. He peeped out of the window with fear and wonder.
The spaceship, he assumed to be one, landed on the field, kicking up more sand in the process. It had the shape of a giant egg that was black in color and perhaps ten times the size of the house, with legs supporting it to stand evenly on the ground. White lights cast beams from its equator across the dry plain, by when the sun had completely set and darkness had supposedly fallen on the lands. After the ship had settled, a small part at the end slid upwards to reveal an opening, and a strange, tall creature stepped forward. It had a large head embossed with thick veins and long pointy ears, black garments over pale, cyan-colored skin, and machine-gun-like weapon enclosed over by four long fingers. As it hopped down to land lightly on the earth, more similar creatures followed, some thin and others burly, emerging from the ship and gathering in front of it. Once there were about thirty of them, the last one stepped out. This one wore an extra silver cloak, and also a big crystal ring in one of its fingers on the right.
The boy saw the assumed leader of the creatures pointing into his direction and ordered loudly in a foreign language. The crowd stirred and, to the boy’s shock, began marching towards his house. He knew that they were not friendly at all – no one with guns could be friendly. Well, except the cops, but they would not have their guns in front of them for no reason.
He had to run. The boy tore his eyes away from the advancing aliens and dashed to the back of the house. He heard a zip, and then a crash as the front door was destroyed. Frantically, he simply grabbed the first knob he could reach, threw open the door, leaped into the storeroom between a vacuum cleaner and a lifeless robot, and slammed it, locking himself in. He crouched in the dark, knees drawn up to his chest with his arms around them, trembling in fear. Why were the aliens here? What did they want from him? Why were his uncle and aunt not home yet? Was he going to die?
As the questions filled his confused head, his pants’ left pocket played a soft tune, almost startling him. Sniffling, he fished his communicator from it and flipped it open. His uncle’s face showed up on the small, rectangular screen. “Cory? Where are you? Are you all right?” the man asked, peering up at him in concern as he noticed the darkness around the boy.
“Uncle J, help me!” the boy wailed. “I’m scared!”
“Why? What’s going on?”
“Aliens! In the house! I don’t know what to do, please come home – ” There was a second crash, and the boy screamed as he found himself looking up at the seven-foot tall alien leader, the door been pulled off its hinges. His communicator fell on the floor, and his uncle was calling frantically. “Cory? Cory? Hello?!”
The creature shot a red ray from its gun, destroying the communicator. The screen turned black, smoke rising from a hole in it. The alien looked at the boy with hungry, bloody eyes, which pupils were no more than slits. An evil lipless grin was plastered on its twisted face. “We meet again, boy. This time, you won’t get away so easily...”
The poor boy tried to back up between the robot’s legs, frightened. The creature’s gun was pointing at him now, a finger closing over the trigger...
Suddenly, he paused. His gaze slowly shifted away from the boy as one of his kinds shouted to him. Then new sounds came to Cory’s ears, and he recognized them immediately – helicopters. He had always heard them passing over his house, but this time, they were louder, as if they had landed only nearby. Then a female’s voice rang out loud and clear over the noise, “This is C.U.P.A.! Lower your weapons this instance!”
As soon as that was said, blue beams shot past the alien leader from the right. The creature jumped back in surprise. “CUPA agents!” he shouted in rage, and while he did, Cory scrambled out quietly, in hope to escape during the distraction.
“Xerom, drop your weapon and stay away from the boy.” At the voice, Cory stopped, still on all four, and glanced to the back door, which had been blown apart as well. A man in his middle age, dressed in blue and silver clothes, stepped in. He was balding slightly with gray tufts of hair, and small solemn eyes bagged down by exhaustion, as if he had not been sleeping well for the past few nights. Badges gleamed on his vest, indicating his high ranking. He was aiming a gun at the creature.
The alien called Xerom turned with a snarl, and shot beams at the man. The man jumped aside and dodged the beams narrowly, pulling his own trigger, but his bullets were deflected with a swipe of the creature’s gun. “Do you think that a measly gun can defeat me?” he roared in mockery. “And I thought you are clever, Chief!”
The man looked unperturbed. “I suppose that’s what people usually say about me,” he replied calmly, “and I can’t say I’ll deny it...”
A creak of the floorboard made Cory turned. From where he was between the man and the creature, he saw a newcomer creeping up behind Xerom. It was a man in his early thirties, sporting slightly ruffed light brown hair and sunk-in but alert black eyes, and he looked to be limping a little. It seemed that Xerom had sensed his presence too, for he whirled around himself – only to be stabbed between the eyes.
He screeched in agony, even as the younger man extracted the fifteen-inch blade from his head, and bluish liquid spilled from the wound. He stumbled forward, one hand to it and the other seemingly groping for something. The man quickly jumped back out of reach. Xerom turned instead, and his gaze, now mad and desperate, fell on Cory. He was losing strength – he could only take one step, before he began falling in the little boy’s direction. His hand managed to grab hold of the boy’s arm, and the child shrieked, jerking his arm away as the creature fell face-down in front of him. After that, he was motionless – dead.
A minute of silence fell as everyone in the room slowly exhaled in relief. Outside, shouts were still heard, but they quickly ceased, until the bright light even began to lift up from the place, leaving the kitchen lamp their only source of light now.
“He really isn’t the brightest,” the older man spoke up sarcastically, finally breaking the silence. “Good work, Orn. Now, take care of the boy, I have to check on the situation outside...”
The young man shrugged in response, tossing the blade onto the creature. He looked down at Cory next, the grim expression still on his face. “You alright? Hurt anywhere?” he asked in heavy British accent.
The boy took a step back hesitantly, before holding out his right arm. Orn’s eyes widened. He strode forward quickly, stepping over the creature like it was nothing, and took hold of the boy’s elbow, staring at the wound in disbelief.
“Chief Mayer, we have a problem.”
“What is it?” The chief stopped and went to them, and Orn showed him the wound. Brows immediately creased to a deep frown. “Koche! Madam Koche!” he called over his shoulder.
A woman with an Asian appearance staggered in, tucking away her gun in her coat. “Yes, Chief Mayer? Most of the Scronexes have been captured or killed, but some managed to flee in their mother ship. Oh, he’s dead!” She stopped when she saw the creature on the floor, a hand on her chest, seemingly breathless with exhilaration.
“I’m not so sure about that. Take a look at this.”
Her dark eyes flitted to where Chief Mayer pointed. Now she looked shocked and scared, gasping and almost backing into a chair. “Sir, those are – ”
“Not in front of the boy, Madam Koche.” Madam Koche caught herself, staring at Cory, who was still sniffling. Chief Mayer gazed down at him as well. “We all know what it means... I want you to clean the wound and bandage it, something like that.”
“But sir, that won’t work!”
“I want to make this boy content for the mean time. He is too young to know anything yet. Now, about James and Myra – ”
“Cory! Where are you, Cory?!” At the female voice, Cory twisted himself around, and sped into the arms of a young woman, who had come in from the front of the house looking terror-stricken. “Cory! Are you okay? We’re so sorry, Cory, we will never leave you home alone again...”
“Aunt Myra, the alien scratched me,” Cory said, wiping his tears with the back of his hand. “Am I going to die?”
He held out his right arm, where his sleeve had been ripped apart. Three long, deep wounds were cut into his forearm, blood oozing out from them. Myra’s hand gripped Cory’s waist even tighter. “No, no...it’s just a wound, it can be fixed. Right, James?”
A man in his mid-twenties emerged from behind Myra, back straight and fists clenched at his sides as his gaze focused only on Chief Mayer. Although his face was almost emotionless, his voice cracked as he spoke, “Everything that I did...was in vain.”
Myra looked from him to Chief Mayer in bewilderment. “What are you talking about, James? James?”
Chief Mayer’s own eyes stared back at James’ knowingly. “Indeed, it has been.”
Orn cut in, “They don’t – ”
“Orn.” Chief Mayer raised a hand to silence him. He continued gazing at James as Orn grumbled. “What will you do about it?”
James took a moment to reply as he struggled for words. “I...will finish it.”
“Yes, you will.” Chief Mayer broke the eye contact as he turned his back to him. “You will take care of the boy, as you have for the past five years, until further notice. But, with a little more care, so James William Johnson, you will hand in a resignation letter by Friday.”
“W-what?” James stuttered, having not expected that. “Wait...wait a second! What I meant was – ”
“James and Myra Johnson, I wish to speak to you privately.” Chief gestured to the back door. “Madam Koche, the boy.”
“Yes, sir.”
As the couple followed the Chief out of the house, Madam Koche moved to treat Cory, who looked at her fearfully with wide teary eyes. She smiled kindly at him as she took his arm. “It’s alright, dear. You won’t die. It’s just a scratch.”
“Just a scratch,” Orn snorted, at which Madam Koche threw him a side-glance.
“Don’t listen to him, Cory. You’ll be fine.” She hugged him, patting his back in comfort. “The bad aliens won’t come back. You’ll be fine...”
). But rest assured, my comments were nitpicky and mainly to do with little grammatical/tense mistakes that I'm sure you'll catch at a second read-through. I'm definately going to be coming back to this novel!
It would be great if I get full reviews! I've only changed one (annoyingly obvious) mistake so far, so more would help! Other than that, I appreciate you taking the time to read!
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