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D.K. Daniels

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  1. D.K. Daniels

    An Encounter

    Thank you, although I believe it is adequate since the protagonist is recalling an experience which happened thirty years prior, hence increased vocabulary selection.
  2. D.K. Daniels

    Chapter 11

    You know I started to get the impression all these older upperclassmen are a shower of wa**kers. Sorry for my language, but if it had been me getting a phone call, I would have questioned it first, considering Jeff was present when last night took place. It seems to be the adults don't care, other than Taines father, and the other teenagers are users. Talk about having a shitty environment. Rick and Taine need a change of scenery, like now lol. Although, its good to know you noted rape, and how easily it can happen, especially to a younger person, except the scary thing is it can happen to anyone. Rule number one for young people; always is vigilant. The story is beginning to heat up alright, I predict a storm coming.
  3. D.K. Daniels

    An Encounter

    The following story was written for a writing challenge over on IOMFATS; essentially the prompt was two boys sitting supposedly in close proximity in the same location. This is my interruption of the image. If you enjoy the story perhaps head on over their a vote for me Love In Paris By D.K. Daniels There comes the point in every man's existence that the opportunity arises for one to reflect on his life. Concerning such a period, adolescence. Since I slave presently over my keyboard, I can't help but remember a place; a time, and a particular person to which I have never spoken of before in full context, until now. Only for today, I have come to recognize thirty years later the uniqueness of an encounter, where I stumbled across a handsome boy, in Lumière De Étoiles (Starlight) Plaza, in central France. Firstly, let me make it clear that I am not a writer, showman or any other fiddle-faddle and betwixt. I am a simple man, with simple desires, and of such wants. I would have preferably envied getting the chance to see the Bon Jovi concert way back when; although the wife settled for an opera. Once, the dream lingered I wanted to write of the encounter. It had transpired due to a boy who appeared in the Plaza every day at noon. I hadn’t noticed him prior to our run-in, moreover as for speaking to the boy… let's say if I did; my memory is a little hazy, so bear with me. The boy, despite, did limit the times he glanced in my direction, smirk, and blush occasionally. Full knowingly, I'd been studying him when this was not my intention. When I reminisce regarding this I was only thirteen; the idea of adoring another male figure seemed utterly ridiculous to me. Back in the heyday, the concept of being gay haunted me on a daily basis; my father was strict way back when. I can’t imagine him ever finding out that I had mixed feelings about another boy, nevertheless to put the words out there; I did indulge in, as they put it in today’s context… homosexual tendencies. With myself of course. I didn't produce the experience, courage or charisma even to approach the kid; alternatively, I admired from afar. Rightly of what I recall, the teenager sat beneath the shade of a large London Plane. The camouflage concealment of the mature branches offered the youth a place to shadow, where he lay flopped to the back of the chair, next to a table, with a refreshing glass of milk a hands length away on the tabletop. The brunette-haired boy, sat erectly in the chair, conversating with a young woman, who too wore the same attire as the boy. From here on out I’ll refer to the teenager as the tennis kid because as far as my memory retains information, I remember him wearing a pair of white high-tide tennis shorts, and of which rode up his legs; promptly displaying his silk, refined thighs, and promising bulge. His torso wrapped in the fine threads of a white cotton polo shirt. The slenderness, the spiritual beauty I observed from afar confused me something rotten for many years which followed. I presume I can state on the morning of reckoning I had been producing an inadequate day. A recent mood swing damped my spirits and alternatively letting it grind me down, I affirmed a good run ought to be in favor. I promised myself if I managed to get through an entire jog that day, I would stop at the Plaza on the way home, purchase a milkshake, before going on my way. Granted I ran the outer city limits, surpassing hundreds of reflective silvers of storefront panels. I ran with ferocious velocity, the mirror being of me dragged along occasionally breaking when an alleyway opened up. The turquoise tincture of my t-shirt followed alike a ghost; my slender-thin frame carried onward warming the glass windows with the white pigmentation of my skin. Only to be interrupted by the green sprinter shorts with the three irradiating yellow strips down the side, I recollect having been wearing. I can imagine my hair stood astray, as naturally when one runs the little things about appearance are put on hold temporally… that is until you catch your breath and find out how utterly grotesque you are. Concluding I'd been a good boy so to speak, I decided to run the closing leg of the journey to the Plaza to receive my milkshake, that is when I saw the boy. At first, I didn't notice him. I was dehydrated, my heart was pounding in my chest, and sharp inhales which made my chest feel full, made it difficult to avert my attention to anything or anyone in the vicinity. I was trying to catch my breath; I took a seat. The last stretch of my run was a sprint, typically something I did not do. Then, even know I still feel how my feet burned in the moistened sneakers; how beads of sweat ran from the temples of my forehead, trickling from under the thick growth of blond hair. Securing a chair in the shade of the Plaza buildings to escape the midafternoon sun, I leaned forward in the seat, trying to console myself to calm down before I passed out from exhaustion. Straining myself to the limits was not a common occurrence; though today, or that day I did need it. I did it because the anxious sensation gloating in my chest the last couple months had driven me there. I could not figure out for the life of me what it was or what it was doing, except when dad brought mom and I out to live in Paris, so many miles away from home my condition for human contact dwindled and preferably I found a new hobby to strike up. I cannot believe or adhere to what I am saying, only I discovered the oddest of past-times to take up. I grew profoundly fascinated by boys my age for some unknown reason. I pretended it was plainly a phase, except the complexation of the ideal never wavered… not at least for six years, and by then I was in my twenties. It is funny, not in an amusing error of ways but due to the frankness of the human mind. There I was interested in the male sex, then all of a sudden, the fasciation disappears in the drop of a hat after my twenty-first birthday. Except back then, I idled patiently for my milkshake to come. As my breathing descended from a labored status, I rotated my head in an anti-clockwise motion. A stiffness brewed and my muscles desired relief. The underside of lush London Plane’s drifted by, the Café with it's some twenty or so tables for patrons and a boy. I completed my rotation before slowly rebounding back to the teenager who caught my attention. I recollect witnessing him, only it was due to a fluke and considering the boy’s beauty shined out to me, that was all I saw. The girl sitting with him, I had yet to take heed of her presence. Preferably the unknown brunette captivated me in a way I have never known before, and quite frankly still to this day. Discovering myself swoop to a shy and bashful level, I can't begin to recuperate where my bodily functions or brain ceased processing. Alternately, I crushed my elbows to my knees and peered at the boy in awe, from which I suppose would have looked somewhat creepy and manic from afar. The intensity my young self must have felt then is only an inkling as to how I felt, but I can imagine the sight of the fine specimen across the ways was ever so intriguing. The unnamed boy conversed unaware of me observing him until the tender came out from behind the bar in the café to bring me my milkshake. The young man called me multiple times from what I remember, only it was on the third insinuation I paid the server any attention. Although it was not due to the fascination of my glorious milkshake, besides it was a direct result of the tennis boy absently glimpsing in my direction to understand what the interruption is. Panicked I darted my attention to the man who served the milkshake and took it off him. It was all his fault for making the kid stare in my course. If the man had been a little quieter, the boy would have never gawked in my direction. I tried to maintain focus plus keep my attention drawn to my drink. On the condition, I figured that I'd finish and skedaddle. I should have seen the irony in the concept the moment I imagined it, although the light didn't shine for me. Alternatively, I waited patiently, slurping on the shake, and when I felt the courage to resurface, I peered over clandestinely with what little prayer I did believe in, that somehow the handsome boy would not be looking over at me. I genuinely thought my heart would spring out of my chest sitting at the table if it did happen. As I shifted in the seat, with a hardness in my crotch, I watched over at the boy. Thankfully the teenager returned to his conversions and throughout the small time spent there I admired from afar. God the unknown beauty was gorgeous, except all I did was stare from across the way, including when I finished my milkshake, I reluctantly got up and started away. I didn't want to leave the exceptional human being behind. Only I believed it occurred to be odd for a random stranger to be caught taking an interest in his existence. My journey home was inevitable, and I'd wished I had been more scandalous with my attempt. I ought to have crossed the plaza and said hi, knowing if I did piss myself in front of him from nervousness, I did at least say hello. The remainder of the evening, I brood in my bedroom trying to figure out what was wrong with me. *** Two days later, I had been out on my routine trot, only on the day I did not run as hard as I did in the past days. I didn't know as to why, however, I felt horrible. It all boiled down to the kid at the square. I got up the morning of, and I felt sick, except I didn't want to get sick. I suppose I am not making sense, especially if I can't understand what was happening or occurred to me some thirty years ago. All I can regurgitate is the sensation. I presume I had been in love because anytime the nature of the boy crossed my mind, the sickening awareness came back in brute force. I returned to the court for another drink. I cautioned myself not to present it a habit or my mom would have words to say about the amount of cash I was spending on milkshakes, but milkshakes are milkshakes, and you can't deny them. Since I set down at the identical table I'd held when the tennis boy attended; I scanned the vicinity hoping the cutie would show up. His presence ought to have been erotic to me for some bizarre reason, like an intoxication. Although to my disappointment the boy was not there; I knew it I scolded. I'll never lay eyes on such a perfect being for as long as I live, nor will I have the chance to or be bold enough to approach such extraordinaire beauty. I slurped on my milkshake is distaste, sat glumly at having to sit there alone and having to experience all these mixed up emotions on my own. After my fix was sufficient, I shoved the glass away into the center of the table. Ambling up, I absently glanced across to see the most gorgeous boy in the world approach from the left side of the plaza. The boy came afresh with the girl he'd been with once before; they laughed and smiled, the boy's teeth were so flawless, and his hair still sat immaculately. The girl chose a seat, and she propped a sheathed tennis racket by the support for the table they’d been sitting at the last time. The boy plopped his tennis racket on the table; it looked like the two of them were pretty close. Don't get me wrong, the girl was pretty but the boy… he was hot beyond measure. I choose to lower myself back to the seat. I'd made my mind up I was staying to watch. The brunette discussed with the girl before starting away from the table, pacing a couple of feet, stopping and turning back. A smile light up his face and I felt my heart race in my chest. It took my breath away. I assumed I was looking like a maniac. Therefore, I choose to evade them. From the corner of my peripheral vision, the youngster marched onward disappearing inside the café. Contempt lingered, I needed to get up and follow him, to see what he was doing and where he was going, to whom he'd talk to and allow the smile of his to shine. A couple of minutes passed, there was no sign of gods beautiful creation. I looked over to the girl who sat leisurely in the chair watching a couple of people go by. The boy wouldn't leave her behind, could he? No… wait, his racket is still where he left it, I don't presume he'd left it for the fun in it. Plus, if the cute boy didn't know the girl, I doubt he'd have gone leaving a prized possession with someone who is unfamiliar. At long last the wonderfully hypotonic lad showed his face, he came out of the establishment with french-fries in his hands and gently eased them to the table, carefully cradling them in his palms. His smile broke out again, and of course, with its radiant effects on me, I caught the virus. The boy reclaimed his seat, and I affirmed, I shall remain. Rising from my chair, I let the waiter know I fancied another milkshake and made my way back to the table. When the drink came, I sipped at my drink slowly so that I had an excuse to dilly-dally. Between the boy's conversation with the girl, the young woman turned her attention to the people around as she ate. Her head peered over at me, and I must have seemed terribly infatuated, I tore myself from the encounter. When the fun concluded, the duo left. Therefore, I left also hoping to keep whatever dignity I had left. I felt slightly embarrassed by being caught yet at the same time a sense of pride. The night concluded with me going to bed and masturbating with the teenager in mind. *** Mom sent me out to get some free-range eggs from a local who kept a livelihood. On my way home, I decided to swing by the square. If I saw the boy, it was great. I didn't have as much money on me from the previous day, although I concluded that if I sold the eggs, I'd be able to buy myself multiple rounds. The sweltering beam on my neck made me feel clammy from the inside. A little too toasty for my liking, furthermore I decided I'd take a minute under the trees. Pulling onto the side street linking the plaza, a rush of excitement erupted in my body when the boy relaxed with the girl in the same seat, drinking a milkshake. All I could think about was seeing him and I was so pleased it turned out the way it did. Feeling bold enough to come within close quarters, I wandered behind the boy approaching the trunk of the tree not far from him, which also shaded him, where I could watch. I held onto the eggs and ducked beneath the cover for protection from the sun. The boy was so wrapped up in his conversation, a little animated but totally adorable. It was the first time I saw him as lively. Something about that day was magic because everything from what I remember was perfect. The way he was sitting extremely perfect, straight and proper. How his hands wavered in midair as a metaphor for emphasis when he explained something to the girl. I could hear his voice somewhat from where I stood; it sounded sweet melodic. Both appeared to be talking about sports which I didn't have all that much interest in yet I would be willing to listen if it meant I could stare directly across a table at him. The girl appeared to be in deep concertation listing to the brunette. Perhaps they are a couple I finally concluded. I’d been holding off on such a notion as to not ruin my dream of keeping the boy for myself in the hopes he’d be gay. Perturbed, I sprang away from the trunk of the tree; I was going to go home. Pacing behind him, I wanted to escape, I couldn’t take any more of him not noticing me. Before I could figure out what was happening, the tip of my shoe got lodged in the tree grate; which was there to stop people from tripping over the roots of the tree and like that I plummeted for the ground. Trying to savor the eggs because mom would kill me, I cradled them, and I took the full harsh blow of the steel and concrete beneath me. I groaned out in pain and resentment. I knew I'd fallen in front of the boy. I secretly hoped in the one chance he wasn't looking, he was not looking. Laying on my belly, I had pushed the eggs out in front of me so that my body would not crush them. Unloading my foot from the slit in the grate, I tried getting up. “Are you okay,” a panicked voice came. “I’m okay, “I laughed in mockery for myself. “At least the eggs are okay…” A hand offered its way out to me, peering up I lingered on a pair of striking emerald eyes, and the reddest of lips I’d ever seen. The boy who I had been trying to get to know secretly, hunkered down and came to my rescue. A series of jitters started to seep into my system. Also, I began to rattle from excitement. I voted to take the lads hand, and he pulled me up. His hair, a little disheveled, his smile beamed at me… at me of all people. I believed I was dreaming or perhaps floating. “You do great job,” the boy said softly. I mean being so close to him made me nervous. The lad uprooted me; he appeared to be a lot stronger than I expected. I began to brush myself off in embarrassment, I hopped the eggs did not break, and I hoped he didn't know what was going on with me. Otherwise, this would have been very awkward. "Merci... er... thanks," I offered, in a sincere tone. I genuinely thankful for him coming to my aid. The girl he was with opened her mouth and said when everything seemed fine and dandy. “C'est le garçon qui te regarde.“ The brunette flushedcrimson, and he snapped back at the girl in a giggled nature. “Tais-Toi, soeur.” The boy peered back at me and couldn't make eye contact with me. “Well, em… You are okay now.” The boy is so cute, his English is not perfect, but he is trying to communicate with me in English. Neither my French was perfect back then. With a nod, the boy grinned. From the little French, I did know; I could make out the girl said something about me, and how I was looking at him, and he told her to be quiet. The brunette called her sister. “Good…” he announced. “Well, bye,” he offered softly. His broken English made it pleasant to hear, and I liked it for some unknown reason. “Yeah,” I mumbled. I began to start away with the worst case of jitters in my life, humiliated by falling in front of the boy; although the good news is that the eggs didn't break. Over the evening, I spent all the time up to bedtime, replaying his voice on a loop and how he spoke. When I closed my eyes, his voice was so soothing. It was beautiful just like the rest of him. *** A week passed, and I hadn't seen the boy all that much. I returned most days to see if I could catch sight of him, though as the days turned into almost two weeks, I began to wonder what happened to the cutie. I felt crushed, had he decided not to come back here because of me and my weirdness. I didn't want it to be true, but I had to face it. I scared away somebody so perfect in every way, and now I have the burden of having to reflect on him walking out of my life. My milkshake bill for those couple of weeks was the highest I have ever run a tab for beverages, and my mom gave out to me for doing it. Except, I decided on that one Saturday afternoon to call it quits, that I'd never see the worlds handsomest boy again. I sat slurping on my drink, lonely and miserable. Downcast, I didn't have much energy for the world around me. Vaguely I ran the probability of me being the problem in my head as I scrutinized the wooden table in agony. That is until I heard the scuffling of a chair from the far side of the table, looking up to see what it was, I stopped, and I swallowed the saliva in my mouth. The tennis boy sat in front of my very eyes. Was I daydreaming because I didn't want it to end and if it did stop, the bastard who made it up is a horrible person? The boy’s eyes flickered from my eyes to my chest, before coming back to my eyes. His expression seemed a little coy, like mischievous. I liked it, but I was afraid to say anything; instead, the brunette placed a milkshake down on the table in front of me. Placing his hand on his chest, he uttered nervously, “I… Alexandre.” I grinned, patting my chest, I said, “William.” The End
  4. D.K. Daniels

    Love In Paris

    What do you do when you see a cute boy while out on a routine jog. For William, the youngster takes a much-deserved break, by buying a milkshake in a small plaza, where he sees a boy who catches his interest. What starts off as a curiosity soon builds up to a clumsy mistake and coincidently, ends up making the boys meet face to face. What will be said? Will the cat come out of the bag that William has been infatuated with him for weeks or how William turned up most days at the same time in the court to catch a glimpse?
  5. D.K. Daniels

    Chapter 4

    #4 To: Mr. James Bond or Glorified Secretary I am writing to authenticate the unique package of God's almighty power you have sent has been received. PS. Could you post an instruction handbook because one did not arrive with the cargo, furthermore considering I'm all about saving the planet and recycling, I don't want to have to wire back the delivery in order to get a manual, only for you having to ship it back to me? There exists some commonality as to what you have said; I too believe sleep is more beneficial than losing it. On the contrary, I reason everybody would agree with you that rest is increasingly essential. Although I have to say I would kiss the feet of the people who invented the bed, oh and the dude who created a pillow. They have made my life so much more comfortable; moreover, if I ever met them, I'd be sure to let them know. However, seldom it is unavoidable in life, the reason I hold good grades and excel with most of my studies is that I put the work in, if you don't put the performance in it'll never happen. I do agree to some of the rules they settle are a bit ridiculous, including your interpretation of the "government" or "school board" fits the bill. I would not beg to differ because I imagine it is entirely accurate, only on the downside if it weren't for school I don't think I'd know how to do basic Math or English. I deem classwork as if it were a sport. Your life resembles to revolve around sports and not that it is a bad thing or anything. Except what appears important to you, is not significant to me, but what is essential to me, is not important to you. I reckon it makes the world a more inviting place and more diversified. It would be a dull, boring home to be living if every Tom, Dick, and Harry were the same. I have no problem sitting down every day, day after day, doing homework for more than 40 minutes, as you have pointed out. Despite, if I were to try sports, I would highly doubt I’d do 30 minutes of physical education. And who knows? I might be even able to bend spoons with my brain waves; don't underestimate the power of a geek, although you in safe hands because I don't probe anybody, so that is something. Cursing is not an overly huge deal with me. If you find it to be more natural and beneficial from your standpoint point of view, then swear all you want. Personally, though, on a side note, I don't curse a lot. My mom often says, "it does not become of you," when I speak some bad language. Except, bad language is not a common occurrence for me, nine times out of ten it is usually associated with something that I find frustrating. For example, if I've produced a science project for hours on end and then find out that I've arranged the wrong section that is when I will unleash the mighty foul expressions. I reckon it passes to everyone, that we end up doing something wrong when we're not listening because our minds are so eradicated with the nonsense teachers give out, our own personal dilemmas, as with society as a whole. I guess the further we delve into the eventuality the more complicated and less human we become. I'm going slightly off track here; therefore, I'll go back to my original point. Cursing is not something I do. As for your invite in roasting a teacher, I would be on board with that. I have never done or said anything like this before, so this is out of context. There are some nice teachers out there not all teachers are corrupt, and I don't know why we're even talking about teachers being incredibly mean. Correct Mr. Murphy looks like he's gonna have at you, I did find it amusing how you described him. Essentially, I was envisioning it; the first thing that came to mind was, of course, a cheesy horror flick where a poor fool's face comes away like grated stringy cheese. I like horror movies they're kinda cool, do you prefer older or newer horror movies, you can't beat John Carpenter's films. Aye, I have no Watson, it could be something we could work towards, plus I'll start preparing an exemplary objective test. I can't guarantee an offer, but you will go to the top of my list on my desk. Also, I will ensure that you get the place. Err… And yeah, the crappy partner bit was a bit… Crappy if I can say that much. Although thankfully I'd didn't take it to heart and I am in a good mood, so that's water under the bridge. About the caveat that you're right, every cop show does have a crummy partner or one who kind of does their own business. But it's ironic that that one person ends up making a significant breakthrough in the case so… Value your crappy partner. I put it lightly about Watson; a glorified secretary is not something to turn down so quickly, everybody knows a great detective or brain needs personal filing carbineer. I believe the two of us share some humor and I think that is how we are possibly getting on for the moment. It's good to be able to laugh at our little jokes, plus they haven't gotten out of hand for us feel personally insulted. Consequently, if you like, let's keep it up. I also assumed you were a jock, well not in the traditional sense but I did have an inkling. After all, you sound like you get along with most people and well, you play sports, and a lot of it, which I will assume will become one of your main influences during high school. To your question "am I one of the shy kids," I assume I am, except I guess I'm not. You see I don't fit inside a group that says shy or not shy. To be honest, I don't believe I have a peer group in school. I'm like my own wolf sort of deal, and I suppose it's okay, but sometimes it gets lonely. It's helpful to know not everyone in the jock social group is not a complete psycho, no offense. Thus, the probability of meeting three out of five people is an excellent winning number, considering I don't want to meet the other two of the five, although I'm going to hold you to that statistic. For passing the ball, it sounds like a cool thing to do, I don't how you'd feel about me playing though, I don't presume you'd fancy playing with me if I got on a court. Furthermore, it's formidable that you are willing to even teach me; most people would not have the patience for such a thing. Especially a stranger. It sounds like you're going to be a regular All-Star throughout high school and perhaps college, you seem to have an interest in every spot there is by the looks of it. Nonetheless, moms know best, you should listen. Keeping your health is more important than trying to satisfy the team, I hope you resemble a little healthier or at least feel it. It's nice to know that you have left a lasting impression on the people you have come in contact with that they are willing to give you a second chance when you're ready to go at it again. Concerning me, I wish I knew such generous benefits, but I don't, I guess teachers are somewhat lenient only I'd like to be looked up to or a little bit admired at least sometime within my life by my peers. I might take you up the offer for learning but… I surmise that is an assumption for another day. The clarinet is reasonably hard to play. I've been playing the instrument for about four years, and yes, I do have braces which is weird now. Although I don't find it too difficult to perform the clarinet with a pair of train tracks, they didn't get in the way because all you're doing is blown into the mouthpiece. Maybe I'm a little more self-conscious than I give myself credit for, reasonably I am a bit better than I give myself appraise for. It would be funny to know that the two of us are in the same band class, and then to find out we are talking to each other in real life. It would be highly amusing to recognize that I am the guy with the braces, including you are the guy who plays the piano over in the corner which ironically when I was in the band, there was a kid who played the piano, and he was pretty good actually. No idea if it's you, however, if you did play the piano for six years than I could assume that the kid who was playing the piano was playing for quite a while because he was pretty good. I know right music makes you consider stuff that you cannot quite think of concerning anything else. It doesn't matter what language it is in or what it is regarding, music is a universal language, and it brings people together regardless of race, ethnic background or beliefs. Every emotion has a reaction and experiencing that emotion has a beautiful response. Too bad you're not a movie enthusiast. I play a lot of games although mostly solo player because I don't have many friends to play with online, except for the few that I do play with online I don't really know them. I have a couple of friends but not a lot, therefore if I have any friends, they are virtual ones. I suppose I'm a geeky guy, so it is in my arsenal to own at least a couple hundred films and a couple hundred games. I do like going outdoors in summer, yet there's just something about sitting down in the evenings in the middle of vacation and playing a game on your phone or pulling out an old Nintendo DS and going at it like the early days. You're welcome, and I assume it will go well. Anyway, later. From Sherlock
  6. D.K. Daniels

    Chapter III - The Past Is The Past

    Well as I often say my brain is chaos, a lot is always happening in it, so ironically whatever is going on up there has to be puked out into the word document in a simplified version lol. I thrilled you found it interesting, I wasn't sure what people were going to contemplate.
  7. D.K. Daniels

    Chapter III - The Past Is The Past

    Before The Storm By - D.K. Daniels Chapter III Dad… what an excuse of a word. Dad… what does it mean to be one? Dads are they supposed to protect their children or is it customary for them to smack them around for a little bit because dissatisfaction is taking place in one’s life. Of course, well this was the mentality of Zack’s father, who Zack loves, but can't stand to be around. The coming Christmas will mark the anniversary of a three-year absence of Zack's father in his life. Elizabeth, Zack's mother, had packed her husband's bags of 11 years and left them sitting in the driveway by the time he got home from work. Now you can imagine Zack's dad had an increasingly stressful day at work and when he found out the locks were changed, he became furious. He threatened, kicked at the door, caused havoc in the street until Zack's mother felt obligated to call the police considering he was disturbing the peace. In fact, Elizabeth bet on the notion every person in the neighborhood knew about Tom's behavior. Elizabeth remained petrified of Tom for several years. However, something clicked in her one morning. Per, as usual, Tom got up and went to work as if another ordinary day, plus as Elizabeth rose to wake Zach for school, his swollen eye socket had grown out to a mighty shine overnight. The mother guarded her baby as he slept. She recalled the encounter the night before, and how her son wedged himself among the both of his parents to prevent his father from hitting his mother. In a blind rage, Tom gave his boy a wallop across the side of the face, and the child stumbled backward and fell to the floor with a harsh plop. Elizabeth set petitely on the end of Zack's bed sensing nothing but remorse for the years of cruelness the boy had to endure at the hands of his father. Nevertheless, the child was a proud offering to his mother. Zack, in Elizabeth's eyes, made up for all the misfortunes and wrongdoings the woman ever done in her life, and she desired to make it right, better for her baby. Therefore, leaving Zack in bed, his mother went to the closet, pulled out every bag and suitcase she could muster up. Everything, from toothbrushes, clothes, and books she packed it and lined from one end of her driveway to the other with Tom's possessions. In the evening when Tom came home, snow began to fall on his now personal belongings, and they had taken on a light dusting of snowflakes. Zach's safety was a priority to her; she labored to keep her husband calm and collect, although the goal was ridiculous. Naturally, her husband lashed out on a daily basis if something didn't accommodate his needs and well… What was going to change now? Armed with a knife, his mother stood in the foyer, hoping that the front door would hold up against any impacts Tom would throw at it. Surprisingly the oak door didn't cave though, and she was grateful. All along as her husband pounded on the door, Tom informing her she was in for when he got the door open. She prayed in the unlikely event he did get the door open that Zack would be spared the trouble. Prior to Tom's arrival home, Elizabeth had given her son his dinner early, including sending him to his room to play Xbox. The boy did try to zone out with, his mother even instructed him not to interfere, and well, the boy couldn't help but tiptoe out his bedroom door, and glide down the doorframe in case his mother required revival. Zach never misremembered how his mother broke down, and Elizabeth never found out Zack witnessed her having her mental breakdown in the small galley away from the foyer. From here Zack could see his mother, with a sharp kitchen and sobbing. The 11-year-old at the time wanted to hug his mom except his mother had given him strict instructions, moreover, Zack wanted to obey that much. Consequently, no… Zack wasn't annoyed at his new friend Lucas. On the contrary, he was glad he asked, but the thought of re-jogging his mind of the past haunted him in a way, and it was something he rather not contemplate. Lucas peered at his new friend; the kid appeared to be deep in reflection. After all, Lucas did not see a father. Did it mean his father didn't play a role in his life anymore or was he currently absent? Lucas walked ahead, unsure of what to say, in his mind the concluded crossed the line, and as to what line it was… Lucas did not know. However, it held in the air. A heaviness or a burden, perhaps it was the question he asked, Lucas reflected. After a moment of utter silence, Lucas felt compelled to apologize. It wasn't in his nature to be blunt or offensive and especially not to the boy. An odd aura surrounded Zack, and Lucas's found it attractive. Reasonably it could be due to the fact Zack has an innocent and friendly demeanor or could it be his appearance was visually appealing to the eyes. Perhaps Zach's father died, and that is the reason why he is not in attendance. In hindsight that is what happened to Lucas's mother and the young boy finally scolded himself for contemplating it. “You know nevermind, I'm sorry.” Lucas pondered a moment, ‘I’m so stupid for even saying what I said.' Trying to be optimistic, the youngster, gazed ahead through the narrow tunnel of people either side, where they were navigating to. Bashing the brain for something useful to say and move them on from this stupid discussion in the first place. Lucas wondered if Zack had endured a proper hurricane before, after all, it was a big deal to the boy, and even though the lad was fearful of what was coming, a nervous wonder had crept up. The youth could sense it in his chest, a pressure in the center of his existence. Shifting his attention to his newbie friend, the boy pieced together a tangible question in his head. “S-So is this your first hurricane.” Zack necessitated a moment, sighed and remembered the time his mother, father and he spent the night in a shelter because they didn't have sufficient funds to drive out of state. With the crappy money, his father was on at the time, and the small house they had in the low-income district of Hardee, staying was a part of life. They bunkered down, rode out the storm until it lifted in fear, hoping flash flooding would not swell lakes and marshland, before spewing water up onto their front yard. Zack, unfortunately, experienced his first hurricane six years ago, and the most aggressive one at that at home, when his father had gone out drinking, his mother working at the local bar to earn a stipend to feed her child, because any money Zack's father did make, it drank itself away. The boy sat with his babysitter one night, which his mother was paying up almost all of her income to keep, and as they watched the news on the evening of; the anchorman gave predictions for a hurricane which would make landfall within a day or two if the steam for it didn't die off before landfall. The next two days were hectic for Zack and his mother, without help from her husband Elizabeth figured the best course of action was to evacuate to an emergency pop-up shelter. The evening of the storm, Tom, Zack’s father was nowhere to be seen. Although that was before Tom, sobered up, got straight, moved to the city and started working. Except, it could only last for a short time. "Nawh, my second actually, my mom and I had to stay in Florida a couple of years back, and when we went home, it was like nothing happened.” Reverting his attention to Lucas, Zack, asked, “How about you? Is it your first time?” “Yeah,” Lucas nervously laughed. "I'm kinda scared actually, between you and me…" Zack dug his brain, and the boy remembered his experience and how the initial storm wasn't all that. Well, it had to sit around for hours which was the crime in it all. It gave Zack to many seconds of free, uninterrupted thought for him to indulge in. Except, now, Zack has something to occupy his worry, and having Lucas nearby appeared excellent for a resolution. Even if the worse brought people together, it made him feel accepted for a change, when ninety percent of the time, Zack’s always believed he was the one to blame for all the problems his family has faced. Tonight, Zack felt home in a crowded building with people he’d never seen once in his life or possibly never will again… or for the last time. Zack gracefully broke a smile on his face, the two slowed for a moment, coming to a stop. Lucas remained facing forward; Zack turned to Lucas. “You’ll be okay.” A warm, soothing tone nonetheless, it offered Lucas hope, who felt apprehensive. It is the first time for him to have to endure such an ordeal. Usually, anytime the word hurricane came to discuss his family skedaddled well before the highways clogged up and went to Lucas's grandmother's house on his mother's side in Macon, not far from Atlanta. A drive up there would take about six hours if you had another driver to split the difference. Only this year, Lucas's father didn't have someone to share the wheel with. Instead, the father decided to stay on, because the house is and was the last piece of his wife, and if it were destroyed, nothing would remain of her, a grave would have been nice, although he respected his wives wishes. As Lucas’s father reflected deeply of his lover, he received a premonition of sorts. He believes it was from his wife, warning him to get their child out of the city, and of course, by the time the man affirmed his decision, the storm was already tearing its way up the coast. Lucas tilted toward Zack; impishly the boy tried grinning to show he admired Zack's trying at easing his worry. With a dab on the shoulder, Zack tapped his wrist against Lucas's shoulder. “Do you wanna play some Dominoes?” “Dominoes” Lucas chuckled. Shrugging his shoulders, “I needed something to pass the time,” Zack offered. With a small smirk on Lucas's grinned, the two boys made their way down the aisle, around the entire square layout, and back to their cots, where the boys began to set up for a game. As Lucas's lost in the moment was setting up, the youngster secretly enjoyed the company, except Zack, despised the attention Paul was giving his mother. The End of Chapter 3
  8. D.K. Daniels

    Chapter 3

    @OzLoGo , I am sorry you have had trouble the first couple of chapters, although I am glad you are able to read it with ease now. I hope you will be able to enjoy the story now that it appears the random thoughts are all connected. Sometimes I have a messy brain when I jot down everything, I usually vomit it all out and then I need to make sense of so people can read it. I have also had a friendship via the internet, so I guess I am trying out the concept of a friend online, except I am completely making what I am writing up because I want a level of mystery to John White. I am no teacher, I have only been out of secondary school for 4 years, and I spent some of that studying and finding myself, so I haven't really had a career as so to speak. I have always had a thing about telling stories, I never pieced things together before trying writing about a year ago for the first time in my life, and I have blown up with the story. It is what I like to do and I enjoy it. I wouldn't mind doing the line of work long term as long as I can support myself for it. I always had the idea that kids cannot learn from a textbook. The only way someone can learn is by doing, I suppose I jumped in at the deep end when I began writing, I believe I am getting better, day by day.
  9. D.K. Daniels

    Chapter 3

    Thanks, I am delighted you are enjoying the story and decided to stick around. I hope you enjoy the rest of the story
  10. D.K. Daniels

    Chapter 3

    If the contents of the chapter exceed roughly 1k words, I will only include one reply per boy between the boys. I roughly aim for 500 words per letter, however sometimes this will not be possible, so I will need to do this. The main concern is to have the chapter short, so that people who don't have a whole lot of time, can read them. I hope this is okay, enjoy. #3 To: Sherlock I have transferred the power of Kratos via FedEx; you should receive it within 2-3 working days. I presume here is where the two of us will beg to differ. I would not in all of my days lose sleep over something as stupid as homework. Sleep is much too valuable to lose rest to something extremely petty. Teachers would not suffer sleep for you, therefore why should you for them. If I do homework, which is even a hassle to get me to sit down, it will solely be in a quick burst of twenty minutes to forty; furthermore, after that, I could not care less of the work getting done. I don’t understand why they think it is appropriate to grade and observe us like a bunch of rats in a maze or a specimen in a petri dish. I believe we have passed that test, then why don't they show us they also have. On the contrary, Math is one of my strong points. Still, I don't know why I don't invest any more time in perfecting it. Just wait and see; next, the government will have weird kids who can do weird stuff with their minds like from some sad sci-fi flick, they'll be bending spoons alone with brain waves. Amen, I will accept that, preach! Teachers have no idea how much shit they dish out. I'm not sure if you prefer not to cuss, but in the likelihood, I am sorry. I would have no problem saying something as you've outlined in the letter, except I would rather not because I am in hot water; therefore, I have to be "GOOD" as the adults say. I’ll hold you to the gesture although, once I get out of this mess I’ve gotten myself into I’ll tell a teacher what you said. I am not afraid of teachers, well perhaps Mr. Murphy, he always looks stern, as if he is ready to leap up over a desk like a Demogorgon and have at you. I can imagine it. He'll leach his face to mine; the teeth will pop right into the velvet of my skin as if he were eating an apricot. Which ironically, he does eat every Biology class; amusingly it is fitting. The blooded ooze, flowing the decent of my checks held with fear, before Mr. Murphy will dislodge from my face, taking with it strings of reddened and white flesh which will expand forever similar to bubblegum. Sorry for the gross depiction, it's how my mind works, I suppose I am a little gross when it comes to specific areas, although you can't put down a good horror movie. It is good to hear you have no Watson… I have no Sherlock, so perhaps it is something us can work toward because you seem cool I suppose… I don't know. Plus, why do you reckon you would be a crappy partner; every cop show has a crappy partner… yeah, that sounded wrong, it didn't sound as lovely as it did in my head, forget the reference. I sure you'd make a good detective. And the cheek, I cannot believe you called me a secretary, that is insulting but oddly funny at the same time. I can't understand why I am smiling at the letter beneath me as I print this, but for the first time, I think I found someone who shares the same humor, well I reckon. As to the question, am I jock, I don't believe so. I suppose I am if you are one of those shy kids who keep to themselves, then I guess you could say I am a jock. Although I'm not mean or anything, sports people are given a bad reputation when it comes to Hollywood; I promise we are not all like that… and I use "ALL" for emphasis. Perhaps every 3 out of 5 people are stable, promise. From what I can tell you seem cool enough to be able to pass the ball with. I wouldn't mind if you joined in on a game. If you are no good at the start, I can help you get better, I remember the first time I started Baseball, I was so clumsy. I played Lacrosse last year, and I dropped it this year because I have too many sports to contend with. My mom said I was beginning to look a little sickly because I was constantly going and having no downtime, so I decided to drop one… Yeah, I wasn’t very popular for doing that. Except my couch understood, it was great; he even said if I wanted to retry next season that a spot is opened for me above newbies. Perhaps when the couple of weeks are up, the two of us could meet up and toss a football back and forth or play catch. I'll start with the basics if you wanna learn. I don’t know why I am offering to teach you or if you even want to, it just seemed like a natural thing to do. Sorry again. True you made me smile, and I suppose it means we are getting on okay then. The Clarinet, I hear is hard to learn, although there is this dude across from me in-band who plays Clarinet, and he always tells me it’s hard to play the instrument with his braces. Do you have braces? If you do, I hope it's not too difficult, and I'm sure you sound fantastic. For your question, what instrument do I play, I play the piano. I have been playing for about six, maybe seven years. I like it because it gets me away from sports, even though I love sports. I feel alive when I am running with a ball in my hand on a field, expect nothing entirely competes with good music that makes you tingle inside. As far as a movie dude goes, I don't think I would call myself an enthusiast. I have a standard film collection, Netflix, and whatnot. I suppose winters get long and I catch up on a lot of junk I missed out on in summer. In the summertime, I am never indoors, but you know… in winter everything is reduced, so music and film pass the hours. As for games, I play a little bit of everything, most online stuff with friends though. We like to group up and do things together, it is always better with more people, and with folks, you know. How about you, are you a movie guy? Thanks for the wishes of Basketball, I hope so too, I need everything to go well. I did write back to you; I kept my promise lol. As for Watson, we'll see, it sounds too... too geeky lol. From: James Bond…. AKA- Watson - A Glorified Secretary
  11. D.K. Daniels

    Chapter 2

    I glad you liked the newest installment, I intend to write, although all fingers and brain power is aimed towards my fourth of July special at the moment. I will be updating this story in between when my brain ain't overrun.
  12. D.K. Daniels

    Chapter 2

    Thanks Well the worse hasn't arrived yet, as things progress who knows what will happen. And yeah they are from two different peers groups so I suppose it would have effects befriending each other, especially James Bond lol. When I set out to write I wanted them to have the same humor and outlook on life, so that is what brings them closer, I already have a plot twist in my head, which I can't wait to write when I get to it. I am enjoying your story also, perhaps I'll be able to catch up now that you have put the epilogue lol. I will finish it, I am just bouncing around so many things awh.
  13. D.K. Daniels

    Chapter 2

    Sounds like you have your hands full lol when I usually sit down to read I read in bulk because there is not enough hours in the day, but nonetheless I make time for reading and writing. Yesterday I read some sixty pages in about two hours, which I find I have gotten slower lol because my brain is full lol.
  14. D.K. Daniels

    Chapter 10

    I wonder how is head is going to be in the morning. Will the hangover and crash of the drugs be a problem? Let’s hope rick doesn’t get in with the wrong crowd who send him down a path of recklessness. Let’s hope he has more alertness the next time, not to give into peer pressure and take everything that comes his way.
  15. D.K. Daniels

    Chapter 2

    Ah okay sorry I didn’t make it clear, I assume most people read it that way when they are writing and reading a letter. Yeah of course several points are introduced, and since some things are going to correspond with the previous letter, given they are pen-pals it might be a thing in the future that I will mention something briefly from the previous chapter, recording thier reaction on what the proviso is chapter said beforehand. And it’s grand lol, I suppose it can get confusing I have released a lot in the last month or so and if you are reading other people’s content also, it may get over welcoming, it common to overlook something, hell I do it all the time.
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