Second Always Comes Last: Hutcheon [Null]

May 8, 2014
Novel / Chapter: Horror, Mystery / Suspense
5 comments (4 reviews)

Second Always Comes Last:

Hutcheon

_________________________

I was always the second to arrive. I always was prompt in attending class early, not because I was fussed, or aiming for a high position on the good lists, but simply because I had nothing better to do. History class fell often after breaks, and being myself- not anti-social, nor shy- I still had no friends. I would often wander the grounds, making my stops here and there, messing around with books or the internet, and then when I got bored, head to class early.

But he was always there; the first. Just one other student, bending forward over the desks, the corners of his mouth a perpetual grin as he discussed something or other intensely with the Sir himself.

Cameron Hutcheon; that was his name. He was the type of guy who got along with everyone, yet was never the centre of the drama. With his tall face, and sandy locks; he was leisurely and talkative. But in reality he was no more talkative than I. It was because of this, and the fact that people seemed to like him so much, that I had come to envy him, and thus resent him for this. The fact that he was always there had initially surprised me. At first I thought it was mere coincidence. A task for the teacher, or an early finish to a group discussion, but as I noticed more and more that he was always there first, discussing so thoroughly with the teachers, I delayed my earliness bit by bit, as not to feel intruding, or rather, intimidated by his clearly superior charisma.

Hutcheon was the first.

Which technically made me the second.

In the history sort-of-club. It was still a history club back then.

Hutcheon was renowned at our school after only two years for playing tennis. Sports had always served as a sense of pride people could reap off others. It didn’t matter who it was, but anyone who could say that they had existed in the same proximity as any particular athlete seemed to think they had some form of ownership over them. That their accomplishments were their own. That had always pissed me off.

It pissed me off that Hutcheon didn’t think the same way about it as me either. He was the second best tennis player in the entire school and he wasn’t even a senior yet. He let everyone cheer and suck him dry of everything he did. He only ever smiled at those who wanted to befriend him simply because he was so ‘mean’ at what he did. And at first it had seemed he was chilling his way to the position of teacher's pet.

Sir had noticed me accumulating over the weeks. Accumulating in the form of tens minutes of ghosting outside the door, trying to lean casually against the wall, just out of site, looking at my books, listening to music. Trying to seem natural.

‘Get in here kid.’ Sir had beckoned, his smile pinched up in his tight lips, but still since. ‘Join us’.

It had been Hutcheon who had stepped forward first when it happened. He simply stepped forward toward Sir’s dilapidated corpse. The blood from his throat had dappled our faces like speckled eggs. I didn’t even shut my eyes to the shower which had stung them. Instead I let my vision become blurred with the wetness of red. Hutcheon had been staunch faced. Out of us all he had respected and loved that man the most, and that was a big statement considering we all had. I swear I heard a choke. A simple sob, forced down back into his stomach as he crouched.

It wasn’t even one piece any more. The bruised skin had come off in pieces and the bones were obscured only by a thick fuzz of seeping flesh. Hutcheon placed his hands face down on the mess and pulled them back, red and sparking. He ripped away a token; a slither of the fabric from the shirt which had been shredded slightly. It was no longer a white shirt.

Together we washed our hands just as he had wanted.

That first time that Sir had invited me into the class, as I waited awkwardly behind the door, I had not known if to accept or reject in defence of my idleness. But I had nothing better to do, so I did. Hutcheon had glanced at me nervously, unsure if he wanted someone else in on their conversation, but I am happy for it. It was the most liberating conversation I had ever been immersed in. It showed me the other side of Sir. And it showed me the other side of Hutcheon.

We were metaphorically just blobs of fat, amounting to neither. Everything we did, everything we said would be lost in the moment and never considered again. We were following suit. Following suit in this straightened school with straightened grades and straightened minds. We were nothing more than soldiers. No, less. Nothing more than ants. Nothing more than grains of flour.

‘It’s too late for me now.’ Sir had said. ‘Here I am just sitting here, amounting to nothing, regurgitating history to you boys in an endless loop of futility. If nothing is done everything I teach you will just pass through your lives and end right back in the grave from where we picked it up.’

‘That’s... true.’ Hutcheon put, rubbing his hands across his scalp. ‘But how is it too late for you? You are my most inspirational and respected teacher.’

‘Well thank you Hutcheon, but there is a certain extent in which I have been exhausted. I’m getting older, and I can either keep doing this forever, or else my life is near and end, as there are very few things remaining on my timeline that can be memorable.’

Almost simultaneously they had both turned to me, staring. Sirs eyes wide and bright, and Hutcheon’s concerned and disappointed.

‘What do you think of all this?’

Me... a single through crossed through my head in regards to what it was all about.

“Why eat history if you’re not going to excrete it?” The two burst out laughing, Hutcheon doubling on his desk. ‘I didn’t think you were a funny guy; that’s fantastic.’

"Yeah," I reply, putting on my serious face. "Why study history and regurgitate it, if you’re not going to leave new something behind.” This time was a question but it wasn’t. There was no inflection. No inquisitional. It was a statement. It was a resolution.

The three of us leaned in together as Sir spoke in a low voice.

‘What’s the point of it all? If we don’t do as we please with it. So...’

Hutcheon finished his statement. ‘Let’s do just that.’

And that was the start of that.

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Tue Jul 01, 2014 3:57 pm

Pompadour wrote a review...

Hopefully I'll be of some more help here, eh?

and being myself- not anti-social, nor shy- I still had no friends.

You've mixed up hyphens with dashes here. Replace those with either an Em-dash (--) or just a dash. (—)

... as he discussed something or the other intensely with the Sir himself.

Consider adding in the word in bold? It flows better that way, I think.

Accumulating in the form of tens minutes

"tens" should be "ten."

... just out of site,

~ Typo: "site" should be "sight."

‘Join us’.

The period should be within the quotation mark. While it is perfectly allowed for punctuation in dialogue to be outside the quotation marks, you haven't done so with the rest of the dialogue, so I'm assuming it was a mistake.

‘Lets do just that.’

~ "Lets" should be "let's."

No inquisitional.

I think you meant: "No inquisition"?

Hutcheon who had stepped forward first when it happened. He simply stepped forward toward Sir’s dilapidated corpse.

Slight bit of redundancy here; try shifting up the words so it doesn't seem like you're repeating yourself, or as if it's this failed attempt at emphasis.

Similarly, you have this habit of saying something in a sentence, only to repeat it in a similar way in the next. So this is more of a stylistic suggestion than anything else: Switch up your prepositions and vary your clauses. Personally, I don't find your mesh-up of fragments and non-fragments jarring to read in the least, but do watch that little repetition bug. There are other places, though, that I felt could use a little smoothing over, either with the addition of a little description to convey neatly what it is that you want to say, because while you're giving your reader an insight into the main character--Nazza, as I know he's called from later on--as well as telling us exactly how things rule, I feel as though your transitions are bit choppy and could use some filling in. Yes, it's building up the mysterious element, but it could also succeed in ticking your readers off. I find this chapter to flow better than "Ambulance", though, and your writing style is both eloquent as well as spirited, so kudos on that!

Anyway, as I was saying before ... varying clauses, yes. That first sentence, for example:

I was always the second to arrive. I always was prompt in attending class early

There's not much variation here, and while this isn't very obtrusive, I would still suggest switching up the words and shuffling them up a bit so it reads better. It especially sounds awkward when I read it out loud to myself. Try doing that for yourself and I'm sure you'll see what I mean.

And that was the start of that.

This is awkward? I don't know, but I feel as if you can come up with a much better way to end the chapter than this.

Alright, so besides those iffy technicalities and minor errors, I'm absolutely loving this. I have no comments to make on plot or character thus far, although I feel as though I must commend you for your character development. Also, Sir is an intriguing character, and I'm very interested to see where you intend to take this. Somehow, I feel as if there's absolutely no need for added description, either when it comes to setting or otherwise, because you're building up intrigue, and your characters are so well-built that their surroundings seem to be blown to dust. They matter, yes, but your characters matter more, and I honestly can't see your style to be particularly suited to the description of chalkboards and old desks, although it would enhance the visuals and make everything click into place. That might just be me, though, and I think I'll stop rambling now.

Another thing: I skimmed through previous reviews before sitting down to read this, and I'll have to agree with what joshuapaul said. Your descriptions are really different, and the way you define things is often as though your characters are watching and defining from the sidelines, yet living this life, you do often risk trailing into the cliche-factory, as is the case when your MC describes himself and the other two--humanity as a whole, I reckon?--as blobs of fat, which is one description I feel has cropped up several times in written works, although I can never remember where exactly. So keep a look-out for those, yes?

Beside that, though, I feel so inept reviewing this. Your tone honestly gives me the chills, and it's very ... sorry, lost track of what I was going to say there. But wow. I should read more of your stuff, Bleakwood.

Cheers, and I hope this helped!

~Pompadour

Points: 25731
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Sun Jun 29, 2014 4:25 am

JayeCShore wrote a review...

Hi, J.C. here for a review!

I was always the second to arrive. I always was prompt in attending class early, not because I was fussed, or aiming for a high position on the good lists, but simply because I had nothing better to do.

Opening a chapter like this establishes many different things. First, a strong voice, as Renard said. Second, it literally throws the reader into the story. Some people like to start with an explanation of what has or is going to happen, whether through actual description or dialogue, but this, this is good. And of course, thirdly, it raises questions for the reader to ask, and questions are always good, because they need answers.

But he was always there; the first. Just one other student, bending forward over the desks, the corners of his mouth a perpetual grin as he discussed something or other intensely with the Sir himself.

This being the second time I've read this chapter, I've noticed how seamlessly you fold in these little bits of information which build up my understanding of your characters. In this case, without you having to say it and before he is even named, I come to see Cameron as a bright, intuitive kid who's not afraid to speak with his superiors, which is always a surprising thing in young adults.

Sports had always served as a sense of pride people could reap off others. It didn’t matter who it was, but anyone who could say that they had existed in the same proximity as any particular athlete seemed to think they had some form of ownership over them.

This is one part that I really love about your writer. It's not just bubblegum. You throw in your little spills on life, politics, society, etc. etc. This is the kind of writing that sticks with the reader, and, five hundred years down the road, will still be quoted by people.

I swear I heard a choke. A simple sob, forced down back into his stomach as he crouched.

Cameron seemed so self assured and brilliant before. Not exactly a jock, or cocky, but definitely proud of himself. But this part just forces me to admit that everyone is human, and no one could go through an event like this and stay "normal."

“Why eat history if you’re not going to excrete it?” The two burst out laughing, Hutcheon doubling on his desk. ‘I didn’t think you were a funny guy; that’s fantastic.’

"Yeah," I reply, putting on my serious face. "Why study history and regurgitate it, if you’re not going to leave new something behind.” This time was a question but it wasn’t. There was no infliction. No inquisitional. It was a statement. It was a resolution.

Once again, human nature is the essence of writing. It's the reason we write and read. Without it, our writing is just a bunch of words with some cool scenes thrown in, but amounts to nothing. You paint this nature very well, and very free flowing. It's not forced, and it's not all spelled out for the reader word-by-word. It just happens.

You, the MC, are obviously intimidated by Cameron, but a simply laugh from he and Sir opens up the doors and restores your confidence. Easily related to.

And that's the end of the review

Honestly, I can't say much about this that I haven't said in my first review. Wonderful job! Your writing inspires me to write better.

Thank you Blackwood!

#D65F54 ">- JC -

#TheFaultInOurReviews

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Reviews: 530

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Mon May 19, 2014 11:13 am

Renard wrote a review...

Hello

So, I like the repetition at the beginning: 'I was always...' it's very definitive of narrative voice.
Good start.
In terms of characterisation, I like the idea of having Cameron Hutcheon to cling onto now.
He is a very interesting character indeed. '...'intimidated by his clearly superior charisma.' You have this really simple way of explaining things and describing people, but it makes your characters really easy to visualise. Tis gooooooooooooooood.

'It pissed me off that Hutcheon didn’t think the same way about it as me either.' I don't have a problem with this line, but mods will. You're using repeated rude words and you haven't put a language warning on the work. I know you put the horror warning on the first part, but that doesn't apply here. That needs sorting.

This part is a little bit weird actually: 'We were metaphorically just blobs of fat, amounting to neither.' your descriptions of things paint a very bleak picture, which I guess is deliberate, but, I feel like you are lacking something. It's not detail. It's not description; and there is more dialogue. So.... I think it just needs extra horror. But I am guessing, that will come later on.

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Fri May 09, 2014 3:15 am

joshuapaul wrote a review...

Pretty good. That's about the nicest thing I've said to anyone on this site in years so you should be happy with that.

You show early in the first chapter that you are deserving of the readers trust. Your description of sir is evocative and original. Your style is it's own, which can be both good and bad. It can be good because it shows you are willing to take a risk. It can be bad because it shows you are perhaps inexperienced, uninfluenced. I think the later is more true in this second piece.

In the first chapter it all seems authentic. You give us a reason to read on, there is so much intrigue and the characters shape well quite early. Sir is 3D and the tone with which you describe him is blunt and matter-of-fact. You could take it one step further and describe things in a more metric sense. For example the length of his nose was that of a.... But I think you find a nice balance.

As I said the first part is nearly flawless in terms of the tone and pacing. You have a certain control over the narrative that is difficult to fault. Everything adds to the darkness of the piece and you never over describe which is easy to do in this genre.

I found the second chapter/part followed on nicely. There are parts were you lose me. I don't want to be jarred from the scene by little errors that could be proof-read out. I feel you may have jumped the gun a bit and whilst you had me in your hands in the first chapter, you lost me a lot in this second addition.

There seemed to be a presence of cliches, that seem almost deliberately spaced evenly throughout to keep the reader from falling wholeheartedly into the scene. Here are a few:

sandy lochs.

suck him dry

Nothing more than ants

putting on my serious face

And be careful with word choice, as you baffle the reader a little with these doozeys.

And at first it had seemed he was chilling his way to the position of teachers pet.

No inquisitional.

Also this:

Nothing more than grains of flour

Consider these metaphors as a reader would. It sounds kind of pretty but isn't a clear image. Flour is a powder in my minds eye, not a grain. Sand is a grain. If you want to avoid that cliche, as you surely would, try something that pertains to the class room environment. "We were nothing more that chalk dust" I'm sure you could produce something a little more inspiring but you get what I mean.

Other than that, it's pretty good, like I said.

Blackwood says...

Thank you. Fantastic review.

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