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RedWriter

United States

Writing a bio for me is hard because I am myself and I could go on and on about how I think of me but would that be correct in others eyes? So I guess the only word I can really use to describe me is Bree and let my writing do the rest.

Message from Writer

Always, always always remember to see both sides of the story and you might just fill another book.

Chapter One: Well, My Name Is Billy and I Am Regretting Some Life Choices Right Now

July 14, 2017

FREE WRITING

2
    So Ears, huh? Nice to have, and I guess my mother wanted a second pair because she had a grip like iron, tugging me to my room. "Charles!" she shrieked shrilly, calling for my father.
    My father was a tall, big man with a fists that he loved to hammer on the coffee table when he was rowdy. Quite contrasting to my mother, who had slender fingers that could pick locks. I'd inherited hers, which was dead useful, cause I was all about picking locks. "Charles, your son has been to the Hartheer's shed!" she shouted like a drill sergeant.
   "Billy!" he rumbled.
    Yeah, I know, but it's Billy, and I was kinda proud of my name. Reminded me of Billy the Kid. My father lumbered into view as I entered my room, which was full of vases that my great aunt insisted on giving me. My father sat on my red bed wearing a classic Charles flannel shirt. "Billy!" he growled, his big brown unibrow almost joined to his low hairline.
    "Hey Dad," I said lamely. My mother yanked me forward. "Jean Hartheer called and said that she found OUR son," she said our as if to say it wasn't just her fault. "inside of her shed with the lock broken."
    You see, my dad takes a minute to get mad. It's like when Superhero's power up- it starts in his face, making him look really constipated and red-faced, then his muscles tense and his hands clench into big fists with hairy knuckles. "WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU WERE DOING OVER THERE?"
    I looked at my sneakers. If you made eye-contact with my Dad when he was angry, you were doomed to be grounded.     "Well, you see, Dad-" I started.
    "I WANT A STRAIGHT ANSWER!"
    "I went to the Hartheer's house because Logan Hartheer said to meet me in his yard to give me," I tried not to pause as i thought of an excuse other than what we had dealt with, "The homework I missed Monday and there was a slip telling me it was in his shed."
    Dad eyed me suspisciously. "And did you get it?"
    "Naw, didn't find it," I replied, but obviously he wasn't finished yet. Mom beat him to it. "Billy, why didn't you just knock on your friends door?"
    I held my tongue. I couldn't knock on Logan's door because the snob wasn't my friend and if his mom answered the door or even his Dad then they'd drive me off their lawn. If Logan himself had answered, than it would be the first time since I've met the guy in second grade. If his little sister, Laura, had opened the door, than that would've been worse than Logan's parents- Laura has a huge crush on me. According to the girls at school, I'm never referred to as 'cute' like Parker Jones or 'sweet' like Hank Mitchell- I'm not remotely good-looking. The reason I was there because my 'friend' had caught some footage of me after art class discussing patterns with Ms. Agnes. So, I had gone to get it back by bringing him the answer sheet to our science homework, a subject of which poor little Logan struggles with. But instead he had told me to wait in the shed- stupid Logan.
    My mom shook her head. "So you broke inside?"
    "I prefer the term entered with purpose."
    "This isn't A JOKE!" Dad was getting into his stride and I knew I'd have to calm him down soon or it was grounding time, eye contact or no. "Look dad, I'll get them a new lock! It'll be fine, no harm done," I assured him, starting to get a little panic. I waited for another round of screaming but instead, he relaxed his muscles, His face turned semi-normal, and his fists turned into open palms. Part of me wanted to go grab a camera and record this historic moment, but I stayed still. Then he started laughing. Cackling, more like. Plotting my demise. As he chortled, his big stomach shook and his muscles in his shoulder flexed. I looked over at my mom to see if they were sharing some kind of joke but she looked just as bewildered as I was.
    "You're right," he said through laughter. Ok, I knew there was a video camera lying around in one of the kitchen drawers-
    "You will pay for that lock. And it'll be all over the news," he stated, still chuckling. Then he pulled out of his pocket a slip of paper with an advert.
NEWSPAPER DELIVERY BOY
HELP WANTED
ANY AGES ABOVE 13
INTERVIEWS IN
PAPER PALACE, LONGTOM RD.
WEDNESDAY NOVEMBER 8TH,
6:00 P.M.
    I groaned and my heart sank. Was I supposed to try out for this? All because of stupid Logan Hartheer. Oh, I hated that guy, I'll get him one of these days... "Dad, please, I-"
    "Oh no, this is good for you, the perfect job. Now, let's go have Dinner."

 

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2 Comments
  • AbigailSauble

    Great job! Keep up the superb work!
    I like the humor in the first part, and the rest that's scattered throughout. :)
    Great job with the descriptions, as well!
    Have a great day!
    God bless!


    about 2 years ago
  • RedWriter

    There is two more in this with long chapter titles as well ;). They should be in my portfolio


    about 2 years ago