If you want to increase your success rate, double your failure rate.

Wednesday, July 28, 2010

A brief clip out of a new story

I started this story awhile back and then it kinda died on me.  I thought I would bring it back to life on here.
It is meant to be a short story something along the lines of bullied school kid blah blah blah.  I Guess I never figured out where it was supposed to go in the end so it fizzled out.  Let me know if you like it or would possibly turn the page and I may keep on posting and or writing it.

Johnnies Got Knuckles
Chapter 1
page 1

Johnnies Got Knuckles

The roller rink was comfortably stationed on Clarkston Rd.  Built in ‘85 it was a hit among the school kids in town. The rink was equipped with a vast selection of arcade games and a cafeteria loaded with nachos, hot dogs and pizza by the slice and most of all a floor of the fastest and most unforgiving hardwood around. Twice a year, usually in October and once again in April, the school would put on a skating function for all grades and every one  looked forward to that. It was a great place for us to hang out and just be kids.

Just down the road about a half mile was Pontiac Drive.  On the corner of Clarkston Rd and Pontiac Drive was a vacant lot. Knee high weeds and broken Budweiser bottles adorned the roadsides of the lot. In the center was a group of elm trees that towered over the weeds and held dominion over any stray shopping bag or helium balloon floating through the air that was within reach of its gnarly old branches. A pair of gym shoes held high court in the uppermost branches. Perhaps tossed by a passing bully.

The lot extended from Pontiac drive south to Sherry drive the distance of one block. To the west were the beginning of the row houses that made up our subdivision. The vacant lot would later be turned into a dentist office but for now it sat empty, doing nothing more than collecting trash and keeping kids entertained .

This lot was our bus stop. Our portal of entry to our educational intents. A place to gather every morning and play Chinese jump rope or throw snowballs while we waited for the big yellow transport to whisk us away to books, pencils and the unforgettable smell of a chalkboard and its companion erasers.

These were the days of elementary school. The days when magic and friendship build us into what we are supposed to become in our later years. A cheerful place for most.

I had always loved the bus stop and usually arrived early every morning to share the companionship of my fellow schoolmates. That bus stop was a crucial part of my daily schedule from first grade all the way through fifth grade.

Fifth grade was when everything changed. It was when Johnnie moved into town and Johnnie had knuckles.

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