Wandering Rhythmical Phoenix
rEvolutionary INC.
Long Story Short: Yami Ryu basically made me realize my writing wasn't up to snuff most of the time, so, after taking a short break to find myself/god/get better at what I do. So, I think I did. Instead of hopping back at Three Ways, I opted to start a new, shorter work. This is what you see before you now.
Note: The protagonist, Jason, has a verbal tic of leaving out anything before an apostrophe. Meaning things like "I'll" become " 'll" and "We're" become " 're". It's part of my experimenting with verbal tics, and if it seems too convoluted and hard to understand, I'll change it.
Rated PG 13 for language, emo kids, violence, and endorsing the totally cool act of Tobacco use.
Long Journey
Chapter 1
I’m Just Your Nothing
“Life is like blood from a wound. Slowly, it drips away. Slowly, slowly, Until we are left, bled out, and dead.”
“’m Jason,” he said into the mirror, moving his dyed black hair over his left eye. “Jason Conver.” He bit his lip. “This is ********.” He slumped down on the toilet seat. He ran his hands on the knees of his too tight jeans. “Total. ********. Why should I do anything that he wants me to? ‘m his son, not his servant.” He stood back up and looked in the mirror. He put his fingers up to his temple like a gun. “Bang,” he smiled.
“It’d just be so much easier.”
He pulled on a black and white striped **** with a bull’s eye on the chest, ran his hands over his hair again and grabbed an empty backpack with far too many zippers. He stomped down the stairs. His mom stood, bright smile, bright red hair, at the base with a small bag in her hand.
“Lunch for your big day, sweetie,” she smiled. Jason grunted in return as she patted his head. “Make your daddy proud!”
“Whatever.” He slammed the door behind him.
‘This town,’ he thought to himself ‘’s so boring. Nothing to do. Full of Slowpoke and old people.” He inhaled. ‘I hate being born here. I hate living here.’ “I just want to get away. But not like this.”
Azalea Town, a city in no hurry to catch up with the times. Houses were still mostly wood. Electricity was wired in from Goldenrod City; most supplies came from out of town. The town still flourished with balls. Ball making was the main factor that set the town apart. Even the gym was nothing special, using mostly bug types from the local forest.
The gym. Jason hated going there. His dad was the referee, and he wanted his son to get in on the Pokemon game too. Jason had fought it as hard as he could for as long as he could. Three years later, he couldn’t anymore.
The first day of spring, and Jason was going to become a Pokemon Trainer.
The first day of spring, and Jason’s allergies were acting up.
It wouldn’t get him out of it.
The gym was as plain as the rest of the town. Thatched roof, wooden siding. The giant sign that marked it as a “GYM” was the defining feature, as well as its purplish-pink door.
‘Gaudy,’ Jason thought to himself.
He pushed the door open. There were no challengers, no battles. It was dead silent. “Maybe they were all murdered,” Jason smiled to himself, finding his way through the fake trees that served as the gym’s décor. And sent that didn’t quite belong filled the air. He wrinkled his nose. “It smells familiar.” He ran through his memories. There it was. “Cigs. Someone’s smoking in here.”
It got stronger the closer he got to the office. “Who the hell is smoking? Dad wouldn’t allow that. Neither would Buggy, or whatever the hell that guys name is.”
He heard his dad’s voice through the door, sighed, and pushed it open. His dad sat in one chair beside the desk, shaved head and striped referee outfit. Jason swore that was the only thing he owned to wear.
“This him, Freddie?” another male voice asked. Jason’s head turned to it.
The guy was standing, leaning against the wall, looking Jason over. He wore a light pink sleeveless shirt and loose blue jeans tucked into oversized boots. He his features were sharp, though, Jason noticed. The man had to be several years older than him. He was the smoker. The man walked towards him, adjusting a bandana tied to his head, White with a large black V on the front. Small bits of dark red hair peaked out from beneath it; two long parts fell out the back. He extended his hand. “Aleczander Eiffel,” he smiled. “Pleased to meet you.”
Jason looked down at his hand. “Uh, yeah.” He shook.
Freddie cleared his throat. “Jason, Aleczander will be your bodyguard.”
“What!? I ‘t need some bodyguard pushing me around.”
--
And that's all I wrote. It's a strange project. I'm doing it somewhere between deadly serious about itself or blatant parody.
Anyway, feedback is welcome.
Note: The protagonist, Jason, has a verbal tic of leaving out anything before an apostrophe. Meaning things like "I'll" become " 'll" and "We're" become " 're". It's part of my experimenting with verbal tics, and if it seems too convoluted and hard to understand, I'll change it.
Rated PG 13 for language, emo kids, violence, and endorsing the totally cool act of Tobacco use.
Long Journey
Chapter 1
I’m Just Your Nothing
“Life is like blood from a wound. Slowly, it drips away. Slowly, slowly, Until we are left, bled out, and dead.”
“’m Jason,” he said into the mirror, moving his dyed black hair over his left eye. “Jason Conver.” He bit his lip. “This is ********.” He slumped down on the toilet seat. He ran his hands on the knees of his too tight jeans. “Total. ********. Why should I do anything that he wants me to? ‘m his son, not his servant.” He stood back up and looked in the mirror. He put his fingers up to his temple like a gun. “Bang,” he smiled.
“It’d just be so much easier.”
He pulled on a black and white striped **** with a bull’s eye on the chest, ran his hands over his hair again and grabbed an empty backpack with far too many zippers. He stomped down the stairs. His mom stood, bright smile, bright red hair, at the base with a small bag in her hand.
“Lunch for your big day, sweetie,” she smiled. Jason grunted in return as she patted his head. “Make your daddy proud!”
“Whatever.” He slammed the door behind him.
‘This town,’ he thought to himself ‘’s so boring. Nothing to do. Full of Slowpoke and old people.” He inhaled. ‘I hate being born here. I hate living here.’ “I just want to get away. But not like this.”
Azalea Town, a city in no hurry to catch up with the times. Houses were still mostly wood. Electricity was wired in from Goldenrod City; most supplies came from out of town. The town still flourished with balls. Ball making was the main factor that set the town apart. Even the gym was nothing special, using mostly bug types from the local forest.
The gym. Jason hated going there. His dad was the referee, and he wanted his son to get in on the Pokemon game too. Jason had fought it as hard as he could for as long as he could. Three years later, he couldn’t anymore.
The first day of spring, and Jason was going to become a Pokemon Trainer.
The first day of spring, and Jason’s allergies were acting up.
It wouldn’t get him out of it.
The gym was as plain as the rest of the town. Thatched roof, wooden siding. The giant sign that marked it as a “GYM” was the defining feature, as well as its purplish-pink door.
‘Gaudy,’ Jason thought to himself.
He pushed the door open. There were no challengers, no battles. It was dead silent. “Maybe they were all murdered,” Jason smiled to himself, finding his way through the fake trees that served as the gym’s décor. And sent that didn’t quite belong filled the air. He wrinkled his nose. “It smells familiar.” He ran through his memories. There it was. “Cigs. Someone’s smoking in here.”
It got stronger the closer he got to the office. “Who the hell is smoking? Dad wouldn’t allow that. Neither would Buggy, or whatever the hell that guys name is.”
He heard his dad’s voice through the door, sighed, and pushed it open. His dad sat in one chair beside the desk, shaved head and striped referee outfit. Jason swore that was the only thing he owned to wear.
“This him, Freddie?” another male voice asked. Jason’s head turned to it.
The guy was standing, leaning against the wall, looking Jason over. He wore a light pink sleeveless shirt and loose blue jeans tucked into oversized boots. He his features were sharp, though, Jason noticed. The man had to be several years older than him. He was the smoker. The man walked towards him, adjusting a bandana tied to his head, White with a large black V on the front. Small bits of dark red hair peaked out from beneath it; two long parts fell out the back. He extended his hand. “Aleczander Eiffel,” he smiled. “Pleased to meet you.”
Jason looked down at his hand. “Uh, yeah.” He shook.
Freddie cleared his throat. “Jason, Aleczander will be your bodyguard.”
“What!? I ‘t need some bodyguard pushing me around.”
--
And that's all I wrote. It's a strange project. I'm doing it somewhere between deadly serious about itself or blatant parody.
Anyway, feedback is welcome.