Young Writers Society

This is something I did for a creative writing class. I grew to like it a lot. The characters are based on my self and my friends and family. As you will tell by the end, I'm a big romantic. Enjoy!

The sun rose up on the horizon and shone through the large window, lighting up the blue room as if a god had strode in and blessed Ron, who lay upon the small bed in the corner. He opened his eyes as the blessing awoke him, and squinted at the bright light.

He arose out of his twisted, messy sheets, sat on the foot of his bed, and drowsily examined his room. Posters of rock bands covered his otherwise blank walls. His electric guitar sat in the far corner with his large, black amplifier, while its acoustic counterpart leaned against his bed. He opened his window, through which the light shone, and looked down at his grassy back yard. His little brother, Kyle, a short child of ten, silently fended off imaginary goblins and monsters with a stick, which he pretended was a sword. The yard was dotted with green trees, in which nestfuls of hatchlings chirped for their mothers to bring them food. A cool breeze blew about, and Ron closed his eyes, embracing the refreshing coolness. After this second blessing died down, he turned away from the window, and struck a match to light the incense set on a burner on his bedside table. He lit the stick of incense, and blew on it. The smoke rose up into the air, producing the sweet aroma that was so familiar to Ron. There he sat for a moment meditating as he did every morning.

Ron walked into his bathroom next door to his room and observed the boy in the mirror. He was a rather slim child of fourteen, not particularly muscular, nor skinny. His long, dark brown bangs fell into his eyes, casting a strange shadow on the rest of his face. His facial expressions seemed to be too hard and stoic for his age, and were rather hard to decipher without his own words.

He undressed and stepped into the shower, and let the cleansing water fall upon his body. He closed his eyes and welcomed the next blessing. Moments later, he stepped out of the shower, strode downstairs into his kitchen, where he found a sticky note on the round table where his mother, Ron and Kyle ate their meals. On the paper was scrawled this:

Ron-

Had to leave early. Make Kyle

some toast. Love you!

-Mom

Ron smiled at the thought of his kindhearted mother. She had always been there for him and Kyle.

He walked over to the toaster, and put in two slices of bread from the cabinet above. He opened another cabinet and pulled out his favorite coffee mug, an all gray cup, and filled it with the coffee that was still in the pot, which his mother had left. He took a sip, and sneered at the disgusting combination of the taste of black coffee and the feeling of coolness on his tongue. He poured the cold drink in the sink.

At that moment, his brother Kyle walked into the kitchen. Kyle’s hair was a lighter brown than Ron’s. His eyes always seemed to be sad and happy at once, creating a rather melancholy energy in the room.

“Hey, bud,” said Ron.

“Hi,” said Kyle quietly. A burning scent spread throughout the kitchen. Ron quickly popped up the dry, blackened bread from the toaster.

Ron sighed deeply.

“Sorry, man. I burned ‘em again.”

S’okay,” replied Kyle, “You ready t’ go?”

“Yeah,” answered Ron, disappointed at the mistake he had made for the past week, “Let’s go.”

The pair donned their backpacks that sat in the corner, and began their daily walk to school. Kyle still attended elementary school, which was on the way to Ron’s middle school.

After saying goodbye to Kyle for the day, Ron arrived at Thomas Greeneway Middle school, and entered through a side door. The eighth grade hall was rather dimly lit with brick colored tiles lining the floor, and off-white bricks making up the wall space in between the places where there were no doors or lockers, which were painted a deep blue. Spread throughout the corridor were a few students who had arrived before Ron.

As he walked down the hall, his eyes fixed upon the lower left side. Farther down the hall, he saw a girl leaned up against the lower lockers, sitting on the floor and reading a book. Her dark brown hair flowed down to her shoulders like a waterfall. Her face was beautiful, and her large eyes seemed to stare deeper into people, as if she could read minds with a single glance, and pull out their deepest secrets. Her slender body’s curves went on forever. She was wearing jeans and a black T-shirt that read in faded black letters, “The Pixies.” She was who he came to school every day. She was his motivation to walk down that long, dark hall every morning. She was the reason he arrived at school an hour before the first bell. She was yet another goddess who blessed him every day.

As he drew nearer to the girl, she looked up and smiled at him. She put down her book and touched Ron’s already outstretched hand with her own.

“Hey,” she said quietly.

“Hey, Lisa,” said Ron, sitting down beside her, and put a comforting arm around her shoulders. Ron and Lisa had known each other since just weeks after birth. Their parents had all been good friends for as long as they themselves could remember.

Every morning they sat and talked about everything there was to talk about in their lives. They shared their deepest secrets, and trusted each other completely.

The two were both often told that children could not love, that children were blind to love. But they had learned long ago that this was untrue. ‘Just what disables us to love?’ they had asked.

They sat in silence for a minute or so.

“Are you okay?” asked Lisa, “You seem distant, or sad, or something. Just . . . different.”

“I’m fine,” replied Ron, “It’s just . . . well I’m meeting my dad for the first time in ten years this weekend”

They both paused.

“Oh . . .” stumbled Lisa, “If you don’t want to-,”

“You know I could talk to you about anything, Lees,” interrupted Ron, staring deeply into her eyes.

“I know . . . Do you remember him at all?”

“Yeah, I remember he was my world. I remember how often he said he loved me. I remember how confused I was when he had to leave, and how angry I was when I found out why he had to go. When I write poetry, I catch myself writing about him without even meaning to. I have vivid dreams about him. Yeah . . . I remember him.”

“Has your mother seen him yet?” asked Lisa.

“No, she wants me to see him first. I don’t know why. My mom’s just weird sometimes. I guess she just needs space, or something like that.”

“I thought he was sentenced to twenty years.”

“Out on parole. Hey, if you come with me to see him, that’d be really awesome.”

“I’d love to go with you,” answered Lisa.

“Thanks.”

Ron hugged her and kissed her cheek.

Saturday inched near so slowly that it was impossible to tell that time was moving. It was like a storm looming on the edge of the horizon, waiting to choose the time to rain its life-giving waters and destructive thunder upon the land. Ron waited restlessly. His nights were sleepless. He could not concentrate during the day. The thought of his father was ever on his mind.

The time finally came for Ron to see his father. Ron’s aunt Susie dropped Ron and Lisa off at his apartment. Aunt Susie was a rather loud woman in her forties. She dressed in very flashy clothing and wore her red hair piled up on her head in a small B-52. She wore much more makeup than Ron thought was even reasonable.

On the long ride to Ron’s father’s apartment, Susie started a conversation.

“So,” she said, in her loud, almost annoying voice. “Are ya’ excited?”

“I don’t know.” Ron said quickly, in a higher voice than usual.

“Nervous?”

“I guess.”

Ron looked at Lisa, who sat beside him in the back seat of Aunt Susie’s cold car. He offered a hand, and she allowed him to enclose her hand tightly with his. She winked at him, and he winked back.

They arrived at the apartments. They were rather plain buildings, white wooden, simple buildings. They looked rather dreary, along with the overcast sky above them, which was peculiar for the time of year it was. They were also quite far away from most other buildings, especially for apartments.

“I’ll see you later, Ron, Lisa,” said Aunt Susie, now quieter than usual.

“Bye,” Ron and Lisa said in unison.

“And Ron?," Susie halted him, "Just remember that your father has always loved you, and you’ve always loved your father. There’s no reason that should be any different now."

"I know..." Ron staggered.

They exited the car and began walking up the stairs in an awkward silence.

“What’s the number again?” asked Lisa, breaking the silence with her melodious voice.

“B-23,” answered Ron, his voice shaky.

They continued onward up the stairs grasping each other’s hands tightly. In a few moments, they arrived at the door. Ron stood there for a moment in front of the door, staring into nothingness.

“You ready?” asked Lisa. Ron arrived out of his stupor at the sound of his love’s voice.

“Yeah. Yeah, Lees, I’m ready.”

He knocked at the door. Soon a tired looking, unshaven man answered the door. His black whiskers causing a dark shadow effect to his appearance. His dark eyes were glossy, his stare almost as deep as Lisa’s. He was dressed in a white undershirt and long, black pants. The man and Ron stared at each other for endless minutes.

Hi,” spoke the man. His voice was scratchy, and filled with long, hard years of misery and loneliness. He put his hand out for Ron to shake. Instead, Ron stepped up and hugged his father. Tears streamed down Ron’s face, and dampened his father’s shirt.

“It’s been so long,” sobbed Ron, his voice muffled by his father’s embrace.

“Yes, too long,” agreed his father. “Come in, both of you.”

Ron and Lisa walked inside and looked at the apartment within which they stood. To their right, there was a small living area with a television set and two small couches. To their left was a small kitchen. In front of them were more doors and a short narrow hall. The carpet was a light brown that always looked like it was dirty, no matter how clean it was.

“Sit down, please,” said Ron’s father, removing a basket of laundry from one of the small couches. Ron and Lisa sat beside each other on one couch. Ron’s father sat on the other.

“Who’s this?” said Ron’s father, looking at Lisa.

“You remember Lisa, don’t you?” replied Ron.

“Oh, yes. Lisa, I do remember you. How’re you?”

“I’m fine,” answered Lisa, still looking at the man’s home.

“Great,” said Ron’s father.

“So . . . why?” Ron began, trying to control his emotions.

“Let me start from the beginning, Ron. I was in a gang, a-”

“What?” exclaimed Ron, so surprised that he almost fell out of his seat.

“Yes, I know it’s bad, anyway.”

“Why didn’t anyone tell me?” Ron cried.

“I don’t know. I figured you already knew.”

“Calm down, Ron,” Lisa cut in, putting her arm around his shoulders. “Let ‘im speak.”

“I’m sorry,” Ron silently acquiesced, “Go ahead.”

“So, anyway, after I married your mother, I decided that I had to stop and get out of this gang stuff, to protect my family. So I quit. After a couple of years, we had you. The following four years were the best years of my life. But I began to get threatening phone calls from old gang members, saying I was a ‘traitor’ and my ‘payment was due.’ Your mother and I began to get scared. Then, one night, three men broke into our house. I heard the ruckus they caused downstairs and quickly got out of bed, retrieving my old pistol. I wandered downstairs, and saw three men all wearing full black, their faces covered with masks. They were armed with pistols, too. I stepped out and told them that if they didn’t leave, I’d shoot.”

His voice grew shakier as he spoke.

“So, they shot at me, and missed. I ended up killing them all.” He began to cry, and through his tears, his softer voice screamed the rest. “I looked at the bodies, and saw they were members of my old gang. One was Jim, one of my greatest friends. I admit to killing them, but they shot first, I swear they shot first, I swear it. I only wanted to protect you and your mother. I loved her so much. They shot at me first. I swear to God!”

“I believe you,” said Ron. “But how did you go to prison if you were acting in self defense?”

“All the evidence was against me, somehow.” Ron’s father sobbed, “I don’t even remember the whole thing. All I remember is the look in your mother’s eye when they dragged me out of the courtroom. I couldn’t tell if she forgave me, or if she hated me. I still have dreams about that look, that cold, empty stare of hers.”

He put his face in his hands and wept softly. Lisa squeezed Rob’s hand tightly, as he thought over what his father had said. Seconds later, someone beat on the door. Loud shouts came from outside the doorway.

“We know you’re in theah, Roah. Open up or we gon’ beat down th’ doah.”

The voice was harsh, with a mean-sounding southern drawl. It spoke slowly, sending a sinister shiver down Ron’s spine.

Ron’s father instantly looked up at the door, no longer crying. He rushed his son and Lisa to a closet down the hall.

“Stay in here, and don’t come out ‘til I tell you to,” he said urgently.

“Dad, what’s happening?”

“Just get in. There’s not much time.”

Ron and Lisa got into the closet and held each other tightly.

“I love you,” whispered Lisa.

“I love you too,” mumbled Ron, and held her closer.

“Last chance, Roah, open up the god demned doah!” repeated the cruel voice. A moment of agonizing silence passed by.

“All right, let’s knock it down,” murmured the voice.

Loud crashing noises were heard, then gunshots and screams. Ron and Lisa stood in the dark for a long time. All Ron heard was the deafening silence, and Lisa’s heartbeat and fearful breathing. Afraid to penetrate the sensitive silence, Ron spoke.

“Stay here,” whispered Ron. Lisa just nodded her head.

Ron opened the closet door, and examined the scene. Three bodies lay face down on the floor in front of the doorway, with guns in their hands. The door was smashed in and lay on the floor. Blood was splattered on the walls. The furniture was all knocked over, and the television was smashed. Ron stepped out of the closet, and nearly tripped over something. He looked down and stared at the face of his dying father.

“Dad.”

“ Ron . . . tell Kyle and your mother that I love them. And please . . . don’t do what I did.”

Ron’s father finally accepted his fate. His eyes closed, and his body relaxed.

Ron and Lisa stared at the man. Lisa began to quietly weep. Ron guided Lisa out of the closet, and out of the apartment. They walked down the stairs in silence. When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Ron stopped and hugged Lisa. She kissed his lips.

“I love you,” they both said at the same time. Ron stared into his love’s eyes for a minute.

“I’m just glad that it wasn’t you I lost,” said Ron.They sat in their embrace, and waited for something to happen. They waited for hours, waiting for another blessing to hold on to.