Young Writers Society

“There's a lot of money in your wallet, you plan on spending that on rum?”

“Wyatt, my friend. We don't use the word rum in 1956, we use the word beer.” Wyatt nods and agrees and listen to more of what Bird Man says. “Of course I have money. I'm not homeless if that's what you're thinking.” That's exactly what Wyatt's thinking. You're a poor, old, fat man dressing to impress. You know every homeless person, you probably feed birds at the lake. All these ideas rumble around in Wyatt's head, and it bugs him that he's wrong.

His first impression of Bird Man was- big man with no shoes, but got money? What else is he hiding? He asks himself. It shuns him that he didn't get a read on Bird Man. He's usually good at that. Bird Man's different though, Wyatt can tell and he didn't like that one bit! He pushes the thought aside, not to forget, but to have encase another misunderstanding occurs and he's hoping everything about Bird Man isn't as complicated as it needs to be.

The evening's heat still burning the air and Wyatt's wet locks stick to his flesh. They arrive at a white three-story building, the largest house in the entire neighborhood. His home's protected by 60 inch black posts with a spiraling iron door leading right into his front yard. Delicious green grass, healthy enough to graze upon. Newly growing trees scattered every where with leaves barely covering its naked branches.

A dozen glass windows scatter around the home. A connected flight of stairs on ends of the door. There is a walk through balcony over the heads of Bird Man and Wyatt as they reach the wooden door. A golden plate with the name, Garry MacGyver, set right above their eyes. The Y's curve and the C in MacGyver is barely noticeable. Who's Garry MacGyver? Bird Man balls his fist and hammers it at the head of his door, till the door creaks open with a pair of smokey eyes appearing through the crack door.

“Sir MacGyver, you are home early.” She said the name. She looked right passed me and at him, Bird Man must be Garry, what else is this man hiding? Her voice alarms Wyatt and he pushes the thought aside just so he can focus more on Bird Man—Garry-- and the woman speaking. She has a soft spoken voice, gentle, smooth and clear, free of mumbling and ridiculously stunning looking eyes. The door widens and they see her clearer.

“And you brought a guest,” her eyes lowers to Wyatt's clothes and then to his face. Creaking along her shallow cheeks, a smirk draws upon her face. Same goes for Wyatt and they haven't realize they're smirking about to each other. Her smile is welcoming, warm and kind. She has brown hair that's pulled back from her face, a white cloth holding it in place. A high forehead and eyes not so far apart. Grey eyes as seducing as a silver moon. Juicy, thick, pale lips. She's wearing a black and white maid-outfit. He couldn't remember this feeling; he hasn't felt this way in years. He thinks hard about it; no days...

His first look at Marie almost feels the same with this woman. His heart beats, he feels his chest simmer. The heat might be getting to him, but he doesn't mind. The way he's dazzled by the woman, it is almost as if the bond between Louise and him could be much more with him and this woman and maybe... Marie. Even that sounds crazy to Wyatt, someone more perfect than Marie sound absurd he pushes the thought aside and tries to concentrate only on finding Marie. He makes sure and promises to himself he will get her back whether he can bare this woman or not.

The woman gestures them in- Garry and Wyatt- and with welcoming arms, she takes Garry’s jacket and secures it onto her arm. Wyatt's eyes wonder aimlessly from the woman's gaze to Garry’s house. At first he thought the view from outside was captivating, but the inside's the real view.

“There's a lot of money in your wallet, you plan on spending that on rum?”

“Wyatt, my friend. We don't use the word rum in 1956, we use the word beer.” Wyatt nods and agrees and listen to more of what Bird Man says. “Of course I have money. I'm not homeless if that's what you're thinking.” That's exactly what Wyatt's thinking. You're a poor, old, fat man dressing to impress. You know every homeless person, you probably feed birds at the lake. All these ideas rumble around in Wyatt's head, and it bugs him that he's wrong.

His first impression of Bird Man was- big man with no shoes, but got money? What else is he hiding? He asks himself. It shuns him that he didn't get a read on Bird Man. He's usually good at that. Bird Man's different though, Wyatt can tell and he didn't like that one bit! He pushes the thought aside, not to forget, but to have encase another misunderstanding occurs and he's hoping everything about Bird Man isn't as complicated as it needs to be.

Chapter 5

The evening's heat still burning the air and Wyatt's wet locks stick to his flesh. They arrive at a white three-story building, the largest house in the entire neighborhood. His home's protected by 60 inch black posts with a spiraling iron door leading right into his front yard. Delicious green grass, healthy enough to graze upon. Newly growing trees scattered every where with leaves barely covering its naked branches.

A dozen glass windows scatter around the home. A connected flight of stairs on ends of the door. There is a walk through balcony over the heads of Bird Man and Wyatt as they reach the wooden door. A golden plate with the name, Garry MacGyver, set right above their eyes. The Y's curve and the C in MacGyver is barely noticeable. Who's Garry MacGyver? Bird Man balls his fist and hammers it at the head of his door, till the door creaks open with a pair of smokey eyes appearing through the crack door.

“Sir MacGyver, you are home early.” She said the name. She looked right passed me and at him, Bird Man must be Garry, what else is this man hiding? Her voice alarms Wyatt and he pushes the thought aside just so he can focus more on Bird Man—Garry-- and the woman speaking. She has a soft spoken voice, gentle, smooth and clear, free of mumbling and ridiculously stunning looking eyes. The door widens and they see her clearer.

“And you brought a guest,” her eyes lowers to Wyatt's clothes and then to his face. Creaking along her shallow cheeks, a smirk draws upon her face. Same goes for Wyatt and they haven't realize they're smirking about to each other. Her smile is welcoming, warm and kind. She has brown hair that's pulled back from her face, a white cloth holding it in place. A high forehead and eyes not so far apart. Grey eyes as seducing as a silver moon. Juicy, thick, pale lips. She's wearing a black and white maid-outfit. He couldn't remember this feeling; he hasn't felt this way in years. He thinks hard about it; no days...

His first look at Marie almost feels the same with this woman. His heart beats, he feels his chest simmer. The heat might be getting to him, but he doesn't mind. The way he's dazzled by the woman, it is almost as if the bond between Louise and him could be much more with him and this woman and maybe... Marie. Even that sounds crazy to Wyatt, someone more perfect than Marie sound absurd he pushes the thought aside and tries to concentrate only on finding Marie. He makes sure and promises to himself he will get her back whether he can bare this woman or not.

The woman gestures them in- Garry and Wyatt- and with welcoming arms, she takes Garry’s jacket and secures it onto her arm. Wyatt's eyes wonder aimlessly from the woman's gaze to Garry’s house. At first he thought the view from outside was captivating, but the inside's the real view.