The dream is always the same. Perhaps it's real. Perhaps not. Perhaps it is my future, either way, it is done, for now, and it's time for me to awake.
Bryce woke to the beeping of his alaram clock. He rolled out of bed and groped blindly in the semi-darkness for his towel. His hand clsed around the rough fabric, still damp from yesterdays use. He rose to his fett, using a nearby chair for support, then he stumbled sleppily into the bathroom and flipped on the light, Blind from the sudden light, he went about his morning routine. He really didn't need to see. He's lived in this house all sixteen years of his life and therefore knew where everything was. He turned on the hot water as far as it would go then stripped of his boxers and climbed in. He stood there, his mind blank, letting the hot spray massage his shoulders.
"Bryce, you're gonna be late!" his mothers voice overwhelmed her pounding on the bathroom door.
Bryce grunted in reply. His mother retreated down the stairs, the old wood creaking in protest.
Bryce stayed in the shower until his dad came in and kicked him out. Bryce ran into his romm, his father chasing him jikingly with a rolled up newspaper. He slammed the door behing him and heard his father lumber off towards the bathroom, chuckling to himself. Bryce finnished dressing, dark jeans, black shirt, spiked bracelet. He spiked his artificial white hair and ran downstairs two at a time. He passed the livingroom mirror and he paused to admire how the tight black shirt clearly showed his chisled cut torso.
"When your done staring at yourself, you can come have breakfast." His mother said, apron over her bathroab, spatula in hand.
"No time mom," he said, grabbing his backpack and opening up the door.
"Where do you think you're going sir?" his father's voice boomed from the stairway.
"Oh, I forgot!" Bryce quckly shut the door and joined his parents in the kitchen, completing the circle they had started.
"Who's turn?" his father asked, his eyes closed.
"Mine," Bryce answeredm, closing his own eyes. "Heavenly Father, we come humbly before you to thank you for this beutiful day that you've given us. I pray that you would have your hand on all our lives today as we strive to honor you. In Jesus's name, amen."
His parents echoed his amen and huggred him, then he rushed outside to his car, honking and waving as he drove off.
Bryce parked among the other cars that circled the feild across from Grafton Highschool. the dew from the tall grass soaked through his thin tennis shoes as he made his way towards the group standing at the far end. He took his olace among them, completing the circle they had started. One of the circle members, a short redheaded boy with black jeans and red shirt pulled out a small bible from his back pocket and opened it to the single marked spot, from which he read aloud:
"And Jesus called the Twelve together saying, 'All authority over heaven and earth has been given to me by my father. i give you the power to cast out deomons, heal the sick, raise the dead...'"
They had all heard the same verse, the exact same words, numerous times, but they still somehow, held magic to each and every one of them gathered together. Bryce looked up from the ground which he had been looking at trying to concentrate on the reading.
"Hear ye all the words of the Lord. The meeting of the Demoncasters is now in session. I Bryce Williams, speak as leader."
The redheaded kid looked up from his bible, "I Dylan Morris act as reader."
Next to Dylan, a tall blakhaired young woman spoke in her commanding tone, "I Jessica Tarlton speak act as Prayer Warrior."
Now that the leadersip was announced, Bryce took the floor once again. "We have a new member," he glanced at the new boy. "Dargon, would you like to introduce yourself?"
Dargon raised his head and looked into everyones eyes. They had to stifle a gasp for they realized that Dargon was blind. He stood ramrod straight, staring at the nothingness straight ahead.
"I am Dargon Karloff. I am new here in Grafton, and I love Jesus."
The rest of the group murmered their welcome.
Dylan spoke again. "I am afraid it is time to close."
The group joined hands and spoke together, "The Lord bless you and keep you, the Lord make his face shine on you and be gracious to you. The Lord lift up his contanence on you, ad give you peace."
The group then disbanded and made their way silently to the school building.
Bryce was kneeling on the floor grabbing his books off the bottom shelf of his locker whn a shadow fell over him. He glanced up.
"Hey Bryce!"
"Hi Steve," Bryce shook hands with the chesnut haired boy whod greeted him.
"Me and Steve and some friends are going to see that new Terminator movie and wondered if you wanted to come with."
"No thanks man," Bryce said, picking his books of the floor.
"What's the matter? You afraid to be seen in the movie theatre with two gay guys?" Steve asked, a smile hinting at his lips.
Bryce faced him, "No it's not like that dude. It's just I got a lot of homework and I still have to go to work."
Stve chuckled. "Yeah I know man, I'm just joking with you. Well, see you around. You got my number if you change your mind." He shuffled off.
Bryce gathered up his books and sterted down the hallway to his first class.
"Williams!" Bryce heard his name shouted from behind him. He turned.
"Oh hey Brock. How you do..." He didn't have time to finnish as Brock Kelley's hamlike fist wrapped around his throat as he used his linebacker build to shove Bryce into the nearest locker.
"If I ever hear of you messing around with my girl again I swear I'll kill you!" Bryce could smell the onion chips in Brocks breath.
"She wanted to know about the church youth group. She just wanted to know what time it is," Bryce squeeked.
"Shut up! I'm not into that religion shit! Now you leave off or I will break you!" Brock squeezed harder and circles danced in front of Bryce's vision. He was running out of air, he wouldn't be able to last much longer.
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125,018 Literary Works • 672,856 Reviews
You have a very positive attitude, which does you great credit.
Thank you very much for the critique. I really appreciate feedback and tough feedback encourages me to excel. As for the spelling, I did mean to spell-check it but forgot to do so before I submitted it. I will remember to do that in the future. As for the rest, know that it will be taken into careful consideration as I edit this piece and work on the sequel.
Hi Dr. Who, a man who clearly has excellent taste in television,
I'm afraid I struggled a bit with this piece. It's loaded with errors - look how many spelling errors you have in only the second paragraph: alaram, clsed, fett, sleppily. Then there are misused apostrophes and the commas where full stops should be. And that's just a single paragraph.
Please proofread carefully before you post work in a public forum. You have access to spellcheckers, so these kinds of errors are just lazy, plus it's frustrating for a critiquer to have to puzzle out what you really mean.
Starting a story with a character waking up is rather cliched, I feel. It also encourages the author to waste words on the character's morning routine, which is pretty much the same as everyone else's - get up, shower, dress, breakfast, go to work/school, etc. You spent 400 words on the character's before-school routine, and there's absolutely nothing here to differentiate it from everyone else's. It's unremarkable. Ordinary. Boring.
I'm a little unsure about the characterisation here. The only character who gets more than a few lines is Bryce, and he's not coming across as especially complex or unusual. He goes to school like every other school-age kid. He belongs to the same religion as 76% of Americans. He doesn't do anything out of the ordinary throughout the piece - the Demoncasters thing looks like it might be interesting, but at the moment the sum total of the Demoncasters is a bunch of schoolkids who stand around and read out their names and titles.
The other characters are equally flat. I feel like the Brock character is meant to be setting up some kind of religious oppression storyline, with Bryce the brave Christian who must stand up for his faith - which is coming across as a little ironic given the huge dominance of his religion. But Brock is just a caricature bully, and thus I'm struggling to see this as a genuine, not contrived, conflict that I should be emotionally engaged in.
(PS: Beware similar names - Brock and Bryce are both one-syllable names beginning Br, and I found myself mixing them up as I read.)
Overall, I feel like this piece desperately needs a proofread, and after that I think it might help to think a little more about what makes your story unique and different. What is it about Bryce that makes him not just another high-schooler? What do the Demoncasters actually do except stand around giving themselves flashy titles? Why would a reader want to turn the page? I think if you could answer these questions to your own satisfaction, you could work on making the story more exciting and original.
Hope this helps.
Cheers,
Karsten