New Theme

Changing the theme to make life easier to everyone, I think I chose a bad one (>_<). I'm making it short so that if anybody has already started writing, they will be able to just keep going.
Theme: Sight
Due: 30/11/2012

Chapter One - And so it begins

Henry James Faulkner was a bright 10 years old boy, with curly golden locks that danced when he moved and sparkly unwavering blue eyes. He lived together with his parents in the rich part of the town. His father was always working or tired and his mother was either shopping or with the neighboring ladies at tea parties, so normally he was left to play alone. That day in case, he was sitting in the toy room, with an angry maid looking after him.

- I don’t know how you did this! – said the maid without looking at the boy as she fixed his brand new coat. A wide rip on the shoulder, just above the beginning of the sleeve, left the white lining to be seen.

Henry said nothing. He kept on constructing a colorful tower of blocks and so did the maid with her pouting:

- Luckily your mother didn’t see it, she’d lose it! What a waste, she had just bought this fine coat and it is already ripped!! Your parents bought it especially for you when they went to the eastern country last week.

Yeah, thought the young boy, when they left me here with you and went to the most amazing places. It’s not that Henry didn’t like the maid, it is just that she was too strict and boring to play with and he wanted to see the eastern wonders so much that the time his parents stayed there he would dream every night about it and after they came back nobody would talk about anything else for the whole week, only making him more grumpy.

- Ouch – said the maid, holding her pricked finger, she stopped talking to focus on her sewing.

The boy felt bad about it, he didn’t do it on purpose, that morning he decided to wear the new eastern style coat and go exploring the garden, pretending he was at the eastern humid and exotic jungles, with all its beasts and poisonous plants. He got carried away and while dodging a jumping tiger, he ended up ripping his sleeve on a sharp tree branch.

Henry looked through the toy room’s window and saw the beautiful day outside, with a long sigh he added another piece to the tower, which caused it to crumble down.

He looked at the maid and waited, as she finished her work. She lifted the coat in front of her inspecting proudly her perfectly hidden sewing. She folded the clothing neatly and started stashing the materials back into the sewing kit. The boy sat still staring at her, so the maid turned to him and asked:

- What’s the matter little sir?
- Can I go back outside to play?

He asked with a strong gaze in his bright eyes and a firm voice, the maid was always surprised by Henry’s strong will and stubbornness, she sighed before answering:

- Oh Henry! You know how your parents feel about that… Why don’t you start behaving like every young boy your age and study hard to follow your father’s path? As his only heir, you are to take over his work in the future. You don’t know how lucky you are!

Henry James knew he was lucky, everybody kept repeating that to him, he just couldn’t understand why. Every time he saw his dad working it didn’t seem nice at all, just sitting behind a desk all day, playing with numbers and checking papers. Henry hated numbers. He had a free mind that travelled far. He craved for the unknown, for the different, always looking for something new, something thrilling. He wanted to see the world, he couldn’t simply stay behind a desk all day, he couldn’t and he wouldn’t and that was the day, Henry James Faulkner decided he wasn’t like every young boy.

"We don't make friends, we recognize them" (V.M.)

Abel was a good boy, for most things. He always did all of his homework. Well, almost always. He went to all of his classes, and paid attention to most of what the teacher said, just like any other little boy would. Abel also liked talking to all of his friends, or would, if he had many. Hi didn’t. It had no particular reason, nonetheless he was a little shy and had a different name, which people were always mispronouncing. What cause the problem was this unhelpful urge to correct them;

-          Can you solve this question, Abel? – would ask the teacher.

-          It’s not Abel, its Ah-bel. – would answer him.

As a matter of fact, most kids were merely polite or nice to him, no more. People took him for a fussy bastard, which wasn’t true, not at all, he only couldn’t handle people very well. There was only one he could truthfully call a friend.This is how he finds such a trustworthy friend.

As if it wasn’t enough, he was still small and skinny, and there was this big lad in his class, the kind of little boy that is little only in age, one who doesn’t pay any attention to what the teacher said, and who never ever finished his homework. He was called Korby, or at least, that was how everyone called him.

Every other day, he would be standing through Abel’s path, waiting for him to come in the morning, and thus take his money for lunch, or even he’s lunch itself, if it was the case. Also, Korby would make several mean names to call his school mates, and would steal other children toys on Fridays, the toy-bringing-day at school. But Abel wasn’t afraid of him, not anymore.

At first, he would simply stay there and do as Korby commanded. Later, his mother and father noticed the problem and talked to him:

-          You must not let this happened. He is big, but he is one. If you talk to the other children, and walk together, he won’t be big enough to take you all.

Although Abel did not have many friends, there were many children threatened by Korby and so went to talk to them. It was no good, everybody were afraid that after a group assault, Korby would come and take them individually, or perhaps he would call himself a group, and there would be no chance to scape.

Abel then went back to his parents, and thus they said:

-          Well, we must, them, talk to the school administration. But do not fear, son, do not surrender. Keep on looking for other children to whom might present a threat, and know, he is not unbeatable.

Abel truthfully  believed in his parents, and believing he should stand as an example to encourage the others, and thus he decided to act. Ever since, Korby would strike him down every single time he stood for his lunch, as for a little fellow threatened child. He never said nothing but “no” whenever the big one came to face him. He thus begun to arrive home, every afternoon, with bruises and marks, and so his parents became worried.

        They told him to stop, that without help, it was no use, it was not wise, or healthy, to face such a boy. They told him to look for the adults help at school. But Korby wasn’t allowed to be mean at school terrain anymore, it happened always outside. Abel didn’t wanted to be weak and let Korby do as he pleased. He felt that it was the right thing to do.

One day, while everyone left school to return to their homes, he saw Korby coming towards his direction, stopping right in front of him, and asking for his remote control car, it was a Friday.

Abel stood up there, on his feet, and said:

-          No.

-          Well – responded Korby – But I want to play whit it, if you brought it o school than it mean you must share it. – and thus pushed Abel to the ground.

-          But if the car remains with you only – said an strange voice – then it’s not sharing. And if you take it with you after, without his permission, then that’s stealing.

Nobody had ever talked to Korby in such way before. When he turned around the new boy was there, standing on his feet, with determination in his eyes. The new boy was from another country, and no one knew nothing about him.

-          So, you’re calling me a thief? – asked Korby.

-          Yes. I am. – That was something new. Even more than the previous words.

Thus being, Korby proceeded to punch the new boy, just as he did to everyone else. Abel saw it through, and puched the big one to the ground himself. They almost lose it all that day, but the survived nonetheless.

When Abel asked the new boy how was he called, he smiled:

-          My name is Paulo – he replied.

-          Thanks Paul – said Abel, and smiled back.

-          Oh, no! It’s not Paul, it’s Pau-LO!

It was a memorable day. 

Every young boy

"What are little boys made of?

What are little boys made of?

          Slugs and snails

          And puppy-dogs' tails,

That's what little boys are made of."

He lightly pressed the blade on his soft skin, a viscous and consistently liquid came through the slit. "There's nothing like this inside of me" he thought, "no slugs, snails or puppy-dogs' tails... What am I made of?". He calmly led his lips to the viscous liquid that insisted to get out, almost shy now, but insistent enough to slip through his fragile skin. "What am I made of...?". He would like to be like every other young boy of his age... so why he was transforming into something like this? Surrounded by people but feeling alone, always feeling apart from others , always feeling different. Nobody would ever be able to understand it, this feeling of being different in so many ways. How was it possible for one human being feel this way? The reason behind all this might actually be something that nobody could ever understand even in their wildest dreams or in the vastness of a deep anger.

At school he was the most intelligent and studious one. All his mates praised him and surrounded him with talks and laughs trying to get his attention, but he didn't really cared about that. 

When asked what he wanted to be when he grow up, as other boys always had 3 different answers, he always kept only one: "I want to be a scientist". "Why a scientist?" people asked, "because scientists can discover things... they can figured out everything.". To the most of the people he was a bright and silent boy who kept a world of his own, a kid beside his age, a child with a bright future.

What a commotion. That day was a commotion. It was a chilly and foggy day when in a backyard of an old and abandoned house, cracked by the time and by the mustiness, far away from the neighborhood, a little boy with a little hatchet was squatting down, looking at a snail that was moving slowly on the dry grass. But there was something different about that scenario. When an old man saw the boy among the fog, he stepped into something that made a familiar sound of wet grass, as if it had rained the last night, but it hasn't. Step by step the man waved his arms in front of himself, trying to remove the fog and see better. That day was a commotion. Beside the bright boy, a boy not much older than him was laying on the soaked grass by blood that looked almost black because of the weather. "What am I made of?", whispered looking at the snail.

Suddenly the boy dropped the hatchet and crawling towards the dead body starting to lick the blood. The man let out a shriek of horror and the boy turned to him with bulging eyes and wide open mouth leting out a shrill squeak. The man ran away, screaming that the bright boy had gone insane.

When a group of man arrived the old cracked house, there was nothing but a dead body, a little hatchet and a black cat covered in blood. The cat looked at those man in panic with confused eyes and giving a low meow that seemed a slight chuckle it turned quickly and ran, disappearing into the fog.

Spirit

That day in the city, every young boy was seen holding a treasure. For anyone who looked at them, it would seem they were stealing from the bank or a jewelry store. Some of them tried to hide them inside their pockets, but everyone could hear the sound of stones and see the tip of feathers going up and down as they walked very fastly.

The boys were gathering somewhere.

There was a cave outside the city, not so far from the gates. And it was supposed to be a very dark, wet and unattractive place for a person to stay in. But it wasn't. The month before, every young boy in the city helped to turn it into a room. Not a proper room, but there were wood planks pretending to be floor, there was fabric attached to the cold gray walls and there were old cushions and pillows for them to sit. And the older of the boys who happened to be the richest of them brought ten oil lanterns to light the place.

The boys arrived. One by one, all alone, they went to the deepest place of the cave. Step by step, they entered the darkness. The feet hesitating, wanting to go back, not sure where to go because it was impossible to see. Finally, when they found out the farest place their bravery could allow them to go, they stoped and left the treasure on the floor. And then, they went back. Though it was the same path, following the light to the entrance of the cave seemed much shorter than the way in.

The youngest of them had blonde hair -a dark gray blonde hair-; and blue eyes -shiny blue-silvered eyes. And he was the first to enter the cave. The other boys didn't know, but he was also the bravest of them all.

That day, he was the only one who went so deep in the cave he was able to feel the air getting warmer and comfortable. He was the only one that heard something sliding on the floor, coming slowly into his direction. And yet he wanted to stop and run back even forgetting to leave the treasure kept in his hands, he continued to walk. Shaking. But he walked until he feel a warm wind (it smelled like sulfur) coming from ahead, breathing. That moment, he understood there was something living inside the cave.

That day, he was the only one who saw the dragon.

At begining the boy did not understand how was he able to actually see the dragon. But it wasn't so dark anymore. Bright light coming from the walls illuminated all around, he realised they were made of pure gold with bright, translucid, colored and probably precious stones encrusted on it. The dragon snored trying to catch back the attention and scarying the boy. It was red, the size of a dog and if it weren't for the wings on his back (tiny, black burned, with a few feathers) he would have thought it was an unknown species of lizard. He noticed there were wooden toys bound to the ceiling, dog fur, and shoe laces.... Suddenly, the dragon stood onto his back paws and sat, crossing the arms. His thin tongue, purple-red, parted in half on the tip, came out like the tongue of a snake, smelling the prey. He started to examine his nails, looking bored. He spoke in a boyish voice as if he himself seemed to be just a child.

They talked.

He knew the boy's name was Morgan and that he was born in the forest because her mother tried to run away from his father and got lost in the woods. The day after, she came back to the city and never tried to run away again because her doubts vanished when her husband held her in his arms and she knew she was loved. The dragon also knew the reason Morgan was able to find him inside the cave was not bravery. Because being brave means fighting against the fears. And the boy wasn't scared because he didn't know what to expect. Morgan wanted to ask a lot of questions. But he didn't. He couldn't. And then, when time came, the dragon told him to go back to the entrance of the cave. "I am with you" he said when the boy started to walk. He entered once again in the shadows but not before catching the glimpse of a silver necklace stuck in the wall and it was much alike her mother's...  The youngest of the boys went back and sat with the other one over the pillows and watched them diving into the darkness one by one, scared and shaking.

Morgan didn't know the next year he wouldn't be able to go so deep inside the cave. He didn't know every young boy in the city has met a dragon. And they were never ever able to meet them again.

We have to write

We need inspiration.

That's why we decided to start a blog. We'll choose a theme and we'll have to write anything about it. Even if it's just a comment, an essay or a story. We have to write.

This week's theme: Every young boy.