Friday, January 12, 2007

Chapter 1

So here's the beginning of the story I've been working on. Don't worry, it will not be as depressing as this first part sounds. And I swear that it is not an anti-religion story. Quite the opposite. I'm am not anti-religious, so my stories will not be either. I just hope that I can build this into what I want it to become. I hope it becomes more than a short story. Let me know what you think. Any comments are good comments. I can take constructive criticism.

-Chapter 1-

Life had not been the same since the sun was taken away. Ben scribbled the word “savior” on the wall over and over again with a black crayon hoping that one may appear if he wrote it enough. He had not eaten in a day and a half now. His stomach made noises that no stomach should make and his throat ached for even a drop of water. Saliva would suffice fine, but even that was in short supply.

Ben tried to remember what he had done this time to get him in here. Usually when he got the recovery room he had done something pretty bad to pop; made him real angry.

The last time he was locked in here was when he had knocked Pop’s books off of the shelf on the wall. Pop said that it would take him years to get all the books to look just right again. Each book had it’s place and it couldn’t be a centimeter away from where it belonged in what Pop called it’s “matching spot.”

Pop had once told Ben his theory on how the universe remained balanced. Each item and each individual in the world had it’s own “matching spot.” This was the exact place that that item or person belonged. If it was moved just a little, it would assure a bad day. If it was completely removed from where it belonged then it could be certain that the immediate surroundings of the object would all go off balance as well. It could cause anything from a cold to cancer, but it could be certain that the balance had to remain or things would not be good.

Pop said an earthquake or other natural disaster was the devils trying to really throw things out of balance. If a building were to fall from an earthquake, then a major conflict could be certain. This is the reason that wars, poverty, and hookers existed according to Pop. Hookers were just girls who were in the wrong place at the wrong time and their balance was thrown off. Got ‘em stuck real good in the bad place.

Ben soon realized that he was the only nine year old boy who knew what a hooker even was. Ben didn’t like Pop’s theory. He didn’t think it made any sense. He also didn’t like knowing how the universe worked. All the other kids thought he was weird when he talked about things going in and out of balance so he learned not to talk about it.

There was one day at school when Ben had to go to the emergency room because a group of boys pinned him down and tied his shoestrings in about fifty knots. Ben just knew that it would take plenty of time to fix the balance from that and had gone into a state of shock just from thinking about it. When Pop picked him up, he had gone into the recovery room again.

The recovery room was the place where Pop said you could put your mind back in balance. After you fixed the physical balance, your mind had to catch up. Every time you commit a sin, it takes time to restore that balance.

Ben had never been in the recovery room so long before. He couldn’t even cry anymore he was so dehydrated. Normally Pop would come get him after about three hours. Tell him that he could see when the balance was restored, but Pop hadn’t even come looking for him today. He still couldn’t remember what he had done, but it must have been bad. Ben wondered if he would ever be let out of the room.

At least he had brought the crayon with him today. Something aside from his sinful thoughts to keep him company. Normally he sat on the cold stone floor, about 20 square feet, and stared at the surrounding beige walls and old iron door just waiting for the balance to restore. The little 30 watt lightbulb seemed blinding too him after awhile. Artificial light always made Ben sad. He liked the sun, the warmth it provided, the sweat that it brought. It was like mother nature’s gift to Ben. A treasure in the sky.

But at least he had his crayon to keep him company. Pop was gonna be real pissed to see how he set off the balance in the recovery room by writing on the walls. He didn’t know where Pop would put him now. This place was ruined.

So Ben sat in the room writing the word “Savior” over and over again. He had called out to someone so many times. Wanting for someone to just come and fly him away on a pair of wings. Fly him into the sun where he could feel the warm air brush through his hair and smile again. And on this day, his savior came.


Literacy-chic said...

Wow! Good stuff. Keep it up! Very nice writing, btw!

Chris said...

Thanks Nicole! I need as much encouragement as I can get :/