i kinda liked the idea of wizards acting like normal people (aka, the job and stuff), so that is mostly what spawned this story
Johnny stormed into my cubicle, and I exited my program right away. "Um, yes?" I said.
"What...are...you...doing?!" he yelled, and slammed a newspaper down on my desk. "ATREYIN HAS BROKEN OUT OF PRISON AND YOU SIT HERE PLAYING SOLITAIRE ON YOUR STINKING COMPUTER!" A bolt of lightning flashed out of the ceiling and hit my computer--which exploded.
Dang it! My computer! I thought. I hadn't been paying attention to what he'd said.
"Did you HEAR me?!"
What? Huh? Oh, right, he said something... "Well, sir..." I suck at coming up with stories.
"I SAID: ATREYIN...HAS...BROKEN...OUT...OF...PRISOOOOOOOOOON!"
Oh, crud, if he was lengthening his words, then he was really ticked. Wait, could he say that again?!?! "Ex-excuse me, sir?"
He sighed angrily--really angrily. "Atreyin is gone. His cell completely destroyed."
"Crud," I muttered under my breath. "That's what they get for trapping the most powerful wizard in the world in a prison, they needed to take him somewhere else!"
"He wasn't supposed to be able to do magic!" It seemed like Johnny was getting back under control.
"Well, sir, it still could've--"
Suddenly he grabbed at his hair and yelled, "GET TO WORK! YOU HAVE TO GET ON YOUR COMPUTER AND USE YOUR 'AMAZING'"--a lot of sarcasm in that comment--"SKILLS TO FIND ATREYIN!"
"Sir, you destroyed my computer."
"YOU'RE A WIZARD!"
Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight...
"Yes, sir."
"Oh, and I'm having ALL games removed from your computer and putting a block on Internet game sites."
I looked at the floor.
Johnny walked out, and I could hear him panting from his fit.
"Kinda sucks to be eleven and not be able to play games, eh?" came a voice from the cubicle next to me. I heard laughter.
"Nah, unlike some people I know, who would just break down and cry, I can handle it. More laughter. Jeff (the guy in the cubicle next to me) is a total idiot. Just so you know.
Oh, right, I forgot to explain a few things. I'm Adaron Mimfle Snuck, eleven, a wizard, and part of the WHAA. Which stands for "Why the Heck do we hAve a name like what sound a baby mAkes?" Haha, just kidding...okay, so it wasn't so funny. It stands for "Wizards Hacking Association of America". And everybody in it except for our boss, Johnny, is a kid. Everyone knows kids are better with computers than adults. Especially kids that are REALLY good with it, like us. And I was the best of them in this office. Oh, one more thing: If you think my name is weird, that's fine, because the Snucks always have weird names. Unfortunately. And it's not just that most wizards have weird names, because Johnny, Jeff, Alex, Anna, Zach, and a lot of others are wizards. Atreyin has a weird name too, but that's just 'cause famously evil wizards can't go around as Bob or something, because "The Evil Bob" and "Oh, no! Bob is coming!" just don't sound scary. So he changed his name to Atreyin. (Yeah, he started with a regular name too.)
Oh, crud, gotta sign off now, Johnny coming to check up on people.
Atreyin flipped off the radio on his black Ferrari F50. As he cruised down the road--speeding, of course--he was listening to Adaron's electronic journal. Oh brother, Atreyin thought. They expect a cocky little kid with a computer to find me? Puh-lease! Atreyin was surprised that they even knew he was gone yet, but he supposed that a lot of the gov's most powerful wizards--weak though they are--could have found out about his holographic cell with him in it by now. But they'd probably be exhausted, because Atreyin went for full power. And with him, that was a lot.
Smoothly he slid onto the road right next to the curb, he was here. He was wearing all black: a t-shirt, baggy black jeans, and boots. He had shoulder-length black hair, and although his skin wasn't black, it was tanned very dark. He looked very formidable, but in a cool way. Coolness was important; he was only nineteen, and he'd been in prison for three years, so he hadn't found out about the new styles yet. Although if something was black, it was in style for him.
He knocked on the door and the sound thundered down the street, as everything else was silent.
Capitalising words is taboo in creative writing. As always, certain authors break the mould - but as for starting out, we writers do NOT capitalise for anger and shouting. The same effect can be achieved by appealing to the characters senses, through body language, though HOW the character says things.
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