Howlietzer Publishing

Category: adventure

  • Crap! I Reincarnated as a Pokemon! Chapter 1

    Crap! I Reincarnated as a Pokemon! Chapter 1

    A Pokemon Fanfiction

    I feel squishy. What is this?

    I don’t remember how I got here, but it’s dark and tight. I was surrounded from head to toe by some sort of barrier. I’m all cramped in here. I need to get out! I stretch out my arm and the walls break. There’s light outside. These walls aren’t so tough. I kick out my feet and the walls break below too. This is easy.

    I stretch out completely and feel the shell around me crack. I’m covered in goo and… fur? What is going on?

    I shook the last bit of eggshell off my head. I could see now. I was under a huge tree with numerous branches jutting out, thick boughs reaching the ground and then climbing back up towards the sky. Dead leaves covered the base of the tree, and the egg I hatched out of was covered in them. A nest of some sort.  I wasn’t sure, but I could smell many more all around, buried in the dead leaves.

    There were no other creatures nearby. No mother creature. I took a second to look myself over. I have three, dark brown toes on each foot, and now I have four of them. I used to only need two, right? I can’t see my face, but as I sit back on my cream colored poofy tail, and raise my forepaws to my face, I feel a snout, like a dog. I bring them higher and feel a set of floppy ears, then I bring them lower and find an almost collar of hard something and fur around my neck.

    It feels like stone. But is it a part of my body? Well, I’m a dog now. Didn’t see this coming. I must have died in that car accident. That’s all I can remember. What was I doing anyway? I was in a hurry. I remember that much. . .

    The day I died, I remember waking up to my messy dorm room. I’d always had a hard time keeping things tidy. I suppose it was typical for a young man who didn’t have a clue in life. That wasn’t entirely true.

    I was an accomplished gamer. I’d won many prizes playing Starcraft II, Magic the Gathering, and League of Legends. I’d traveled all over the world competing in tournaments and placing almost always in the top four. It was nice. But now I had to go to college.

    My parents told me if I wanted to be someone I had to go to college. And though I sort of liked what I was studying, I didn’t really feel like myself. It was a lot of pressure getting all these assignments turned in on time. And most of the work I didn’t agree with. How necessary was this homework?

    I was learning game design. I did like drawing and talking about games, but I really wasn’t the best at it. I was terrible at coding. I was better at playing. After a year of constant studying, I got better, but things just got harder, for my mental state mostly.

    It was harder to get out of bed. I remember the alarm going off the morning before I died. It was like any other day. I couldn’t get out of bed. So, I stared at my phone for an hour before I pushed myself up. I felt greasy. It had been a while since I’d taken a shower. I just didn’t care. Nothing made sense to me anymore. What was the point in taking a shower?

    I just swiped some deodorant on, pulled on some clothes that I had lying around, and managed to get my stuff together for class.

    No time for breakfast. My stomach gurgled in disapproval. I really need to shave. I will shower and shave after classes.

    My first class was Game Theory that day. I like this class because I get to see Jasmine LeBlanc. She was this super cute Japanese girl in my class. Second-generation Japanese, as she would say. I found her fascinating because she changed her hairstyle once a month. This month she’d gotten her hair cut short and dyed green with black tips and spiked up all over her head. She was so sexy. With black eyeliner and lipstick and a formal emo look, she was my dream girl.

    That day she was wearing a green T-shirt with a silver snake on it. Slytherin House. A black blazer on top. Black short pants and black suspenders, ankle socks and black chucks. She sat near the front. I sat near the back. I liked looking at her from afar. I didn’t have the guts to talk to her. Her grades were amazing. I just didn’t have it in me. . .

    “Dude, you need to wash your clothes,” said a student sitting next to me.

    He was a friend named Errol Spencer. He knew about my past as a successful gamer, and we enjoyed talking about games. He still played. I felt like I didn’t have time. I spent a good portion of time studying in the library. . . or tried to study. I got caught up in my phone, on social media. I’m really not good at school. I never was.

    “Laundry is this weekend,” I said.

    “It’s Monday, dude. Are you still depressed?” he said.

    “I’ve never seen a doctor, so. . .”

    Was I depressed? I had no motivation. Didn’t sleep well. Had a hard time focusing. I don’t know. I just felt overwhelmed by everyone’s expectations.

    “Dude, if you keep this up, you won’t be attracting any of these cute gamer girls. After class, we’re fixing you up.”

    I laughed. “I’m a lost cause, man.”

    “Dude, you were TazManiac! You won all sorts of games 2 years ago.”

    “I lost my edge, man. I’m just a student now.”

    “Well, if you’re looking to get your edge back, tonight, Blackwell Dorm is having a Magic the Gathering Tournament. Seriously. I know you don’t game anymore, but we need to get you out of this. People are afraid you’re going to kill yourself.”

    “Why do you care? That’s my decision.”

    “You’re not serious, are you? If you say something like that again, I’m telling the teacher.”

    “Dude, I don’t have any Magic cards on me. They’re all at home, two hours away.”

    “We can get you some new ones. A starter deck and some packs. Hell, I have cards I don’t use. You can go through them. Seriously. I want you to come out of your room and hang out tonight. In fact, this thing is going on all week.”

    I hadn’t played Magic in a long time. It was tempting. Something to break me out of my shut-in habit. Maybe meet some people. I wasn’t a big fan of people. They always had some expectations they expected you to meet.

    “Plus, Jasmine will be there. You guys could play together.”

    Errol smiled. He knew I had a huge crush on her. And he almost always used her as a way to get me to do anything. I’d been a pretty stalwart in my ‘No’s’ lately, something I was proud of because I hate being manipulated. But I was lonely. I was tired of trying to do things I hated. At least I enjoyed Magic. I could actually meet people and maybe have fun. I hadn’t had fun in almost a year and a half now.

    “I want you to know first and foremost that I am not going because of Jasmine,” I said. “There’s no way she and I will meet. I haven’t played in a while. If she’s any good, she’ll probably be at the top and I’ll lose somewhere in the beginning.”

    “You got to try man.”

    “I’m doing this for fun. Not because of anything else.”

    “I got you. Just please take a shower and change your clothes.”

    I smiled. “No promises.”

    The tournament started at 7:00 pm and ended at 10:00 pm. After classes, and many disapproving faces of my peers (probably because I smelled), I got home and showered, cleaned up my room, got all my laundry in a bag and took it to the machines down the hall to start washing. Then I was off to the nearest game store to make a deck.

    Walmart or any of those box chain stores were nice, but if I went to a game shop, I had the chance of digging through their singles and finding something good. The thing about starter decks, which are full, playable 60 card decks, is that they are not as powerful as the decks of REAL gamers. I cannot stress that enough. I was going to pick the best starter deck they had, figure out what was missing or what could make it better, and then dig through their singles to see what I could find. It was a crapshoot. Worst-case scenario, I’d play the starter deck.

    This is just so I can get out of my funk. I don’t want to be depressed anymore. I want to have friends. Like I used to.

    I sat in my car before I turned over the ignition. I always had to give myself a pep talk these days. Either when I was in bed or anywhere else. I just wish I could find my purpose or some sort of meaning. Would I ever be happy?

    I started the car and navigated with the help of my phone’s GPS to the nearest game shop. It wasn’t far, about 5 miles from the school. I went inside and was excited for the first time in my life. I hadn’t been surrounded by so many games in a long time. I made my way to the Magic the Gathering section and started perusing. My strategy was to look for a Blue-White deck.

    Blue, White was a combination that not a lot of players played because it was mean. Blue cards had a lot of counter effects, preventing players from getting their cards down. White had protection. Together, they were an annoying combination. I had to consider, however, that in a school full of gamers there would have to be at least one. I found a Blue White deck I liked and bought it. Then I took a seat at one of the tables and unboxed the deck. It was decent, about what I expected from one of these. But the next question was where do I want to take it? What was my win con? Do I just want to be annoying? You don’t make many friends by being annoying, but that’s why you play Blue: to be annoying.

    I did a little online research on my phone and figured out the best cards to add and take out. I dug through the boxes of singles to find what I wanted. They had only a couple of them. It was a crapshoot. I bought those cards and retook my seat.

    “You’re really focused hard on that,” said the game store cashier.

    I smiled. “Got to make it tournament worthy.”

    “You know, I have some rare cards behind the counter if you’d like to look. Some mythics as well.”

    I hadn’t thought about that. Of course, he didn’t have the good stuff on the floor for people to pocket. I got up from my seat and proceeded to where he was standing. He didn’t have what I was looking for, but he did have a very interesting card that I could use. It would take my deck in a whole other direction, but this is what I loved about this game. With so many cards the combinations were endless. It was invigorating. I was beginning to feel like my old self again.

    I hope I can make this feeling last for a while.

    I purchased that card and went back to the boxes. Bought some more and I was fairly satisfied with what I got. I let the cashier take a look. He was curious, and I was slightly proud. Felt like showing off a little.

    “I think your mana base is off a bit.”

    I sunk a little.

    “But I have a couple of decent cards back here that can fix that. Also, I would recommend this card as well.”

    He pulled out a white angel card. It was just an uncommon, but I could tell why he chose it. It would be perfect in this deck.

    “I’m kind of low on money,” I said sheepishly.

    “Well tell you what, I bet there are some cards there you didn’t use, right? Sell those back to me and let’s see where we’re at.”

    I handed him five cards, three uncommons and 2 commons. They were not very expensive. I had little faith I could cover the difference.

    “Hmmm. Well, I can’t give you land to fix your mana, but if you have $5, I’ll trade you the angel for those five. Deal?”

    He was ripping himself off. I can’t believe this man was willing to do that.

    “Are you sure?” I was excited. I hadn’t been treated with much kindness lately. Most treated me with disdain. . .

    “Yeah. Just make sure you come back here. We have Magic tournaments all the time.”

    “I will! Thank you so much!” I grabbed my purchases and hastily went out the door. I needed to leave quickly before I started to cry. I’m going to do my best to clean myself up, study hard, and find time to hang out with Errol and play games. I need this to get back on track.

    I left the parking lot and was on my way back to school. I had to remember to get my laundry out and in the dryer. I also wanted to get some food. I checked my clock on the dashboard. It was 6:30. I didn’t have a lot of time. I pressed the gas pedal hard. I didn’t want to be late, and honestly, I preferred being early, so I didn’t miss anything. Traffic was bad. It was rush hour. There was a red light ahead. I imagined it turning green, hoping that by doing so it would change. I heard a loud honk somewhere in the distance, but I kept my eye on the light. It changed. I pressed the gas pedal again to race through that light and onward.

    CRASH!

    That’s right. I got t-boned by a semi that didn’t stop on red. Jackass! Wow. I spent a lot of time making a fantastic deck that I’ll never get to play. That’s depressing.

    I looked around. The world here looked brighter. The grass was green, greener than I’d seen in a long time. It felt cool under my toepads. It may be weird being a dog or whatever, but this place seemed nice. I looked up at the tree. It was massive with branches sprawled all over the ground, close enough for me to jump up and up from branch to branch and scale to the top.

    At this point I had no idea where I was, or what I was; I also had no clue what I needed to do next. Gaming college hadn’t prepared me for days like this. From the top of the tree, I’d probably be able to see a town, not that that did me much good in my current form. But also, maybe I could find water; I’d probably need that eventually along with food.

    I dashed up the branches and climbed as high as I could. The tree seemed to be very old, judging by how big it was, and incredibly tall. I made it pretty far up and I could see forever. There did seem to be a town nearby, but it was nothing like the cities from my old world. It looked rather small, maybe only one hundred people? I was always bad at math. There seemed to be a mountain in one direction and a river in another. I felt my toepads losing their grip on the thin branches as I craned my neck from side to side; it was inevitable: I was about to fall. I ducked down and tried to regain my grip, but these feet were not made for climbing trees. I tumbled down the branches until I fell into a nest. I scrambled to my feet, making sure that I didn’t disturb any eggs or babies. Luckily it was empty, however, I heard a cry from above as I got my wits back.

    There was a giant bird circling overhead, screeching. I could understand it perfectly.

    “How fortuitous! A dumb animal has fallen into my nest, after a fruitless day of hunting. I shall eat well tonight!”

    I gulped. I hadn’t even considered anything trying to eat me. What the heck was I going to do with a giant bird trying to eat me?

    I didn’t have time to think, the bird dove into the tree with such speed and agility that it looked like it just passed through the branches. It landed on a branch in front of the nest and began to step towards me and the nest. It was a pidgeot. It was a real pidgeot from the Pokemon games, and it was going to peck me to death and eat me!

     

    The story so far: 2 3 4 5

  • The Schoolyard Fight Story

    The Schoolyard Fight Story

    Loner Autumn (Ch2):

    The Schoolyard Fight Story

    The Whispered Reputation

    It had been a typical first week at school for Byron. He kept to himself and everyone else avoided him like the plague, however it didn’t stop people from constantly staring at him and talking about him. The story of his intervention the previous weekend seemed to have traveled to every nook and cranny of the school and soon, Byron heard his name whispered in the hallways nearly every day. It was exhausting.

    Even in the cafeteria, where he usually found solace at a small table, he was surrounded by hundreds of eyes. Thank God it was Friday! He couldn’t believe he’d managed to deal with all of this in a single week. And there were still 35 weeks to go until summer break.

    Still, the only people who were there that day were Tina, Russell, and himself. And he wasn’t the one blabbing about what happened, and he doubted it was Russell either. Of course, the story varied as to what happened. Byron hadn’t heard a single true version of the story yet, however, each story ended with Byron knocking Russell unconscious. Tina must have been telling everyone some version of the story to protect Russell’s integrity… somewhat.

    Byron stared blankly ahead. That girl perturbed him. She was the most stereotypical high school cheerleader he’d ever met, matching every old movie trope he’d watched… Incredulity didn’t describe how Byron felt at her hesitancy to get this guy kicked out of school, even better locked up. He shook his head and drank his milk. ‘Whatever,’ he thought, ‘I’ll do my best to stay out of everyone’s way. It’s none of my business.’

    Gossip and Denial at the Cheerleader Table

    Tina Kurt sneezed while biting into her sandwich. She sat at a long table with the rest of the cheer team. She hastily wiped snot off her nose; it was very important to keep up her appearance. As she did so, she scanned the cafeteria for the boy who saved her, not because she wanted to see him, but more as to make sure he didn’t know she was talking about him… and she still found it weird that he didn’t grab her ass or anything! What was wrong with him?

    “He’s over there,” said Jennifer, a tall, pale girl, with heavy black eyeliner and long blonde hair, “He’s sat in that same chair every day. You should go talk to him, since you’re obviously crushing hard.” A mischievous grin spread across her face as the other girls snickered.

    Tina stood up and shouted ferociously, “I don’t like him!”

    The whole cafeteria stared at her until she took her seat. She saw him staring at her, and she couldn’t help but blush. But it was only because of her involuntary outburst. It was embarrassing and very unbecoming of the most popular girl in school.

    “Whoa…” Jennifer blinked, “Easy there, firecracker. Save that for the game.”

    Alice, a short haired brunette, whose eyes were roaming a book, said, “For the record, for someone who doesn’t like him, you talk about him all the time. You’ve barely mentioned Aaron this entire week.”

    “Aaron who?” said Jennifer, as the others at their table laughed.

    Tina’s lips pursed as tightly as was humanly possible. “I don’t like him. He’s ugly, short, and scrawny! He’s not a dream boat like Aaron Thompson!”

    Alice grinned and Jennifer rolled her eyes.

    “Besides,” said Tina, “As the hottest girl in school I deserve the hottest guy, and Aaron is MY guy!”

    The heat at the table rose several degrees, pressuring other tables to push away.

    “Tina,” said Alice, “Aaron is a senior. There are plenty of attractive senior girls. Just because you somehow got the captain position of the cheer squad, doesn’t make you the hottest girl in school.”

    “Yeah,” said Jennifer, “Can someone explain that?”

    “Sounds like someone is jeally,” Tina interupted. “You think you can take Aaron away from me, Alice?”

    Alice closed her book and sighed. “No, Tina, I can’t take Aaron away from you.”

    “Speaking of jeally,” said Jennifer, “It looks like your plan to make Aaron jeally by flirting with his best friend didn’t work.”

    “Yes,” said Alice, “It only worked against you. You’re lucky that Byron kid was around to help you.”

    Tina fell silent. Alice was right, as always. What would have happened if Byron wasn’t there? She would have been raped.

    “I still say we should report him,” said Alice. “He could do it again. He might have already done it.

    “No!” shouted Tina, standing up again, and sitting back down as quickly as possible. “We made a cheer promise not to tell a soul.”

    “You told everyone in first period Monday morning,” said Jennifer.

    “That’s not the point!” said Tina, “We don’t tell any old people!”

    Alice sighed. ‘At least she doesn’t think she’s the smartest girl in school.’

    Russell’s Bruised Ego

    Russell Brown studied his lunch tray. He’d been in a funk all week, and nothing he or his friends could do would lift his bad mood. It was embarrassing. That little kid beat him up like he was nothing. In a matter of seconds, he’d awaken to find both Tina and the kid long gone.

    The worst part about it was that everyone knew what happened. Everyone knew that Byron Lucas, some new freshman from another town, kicked his ass. Russell watched him from across the cafeteria, reading a book, completely unaware of how much he’d ruined his, Russell’s reputation.

    “Russell,” said Aaron, “You’re shaking the table.”

    Russell looked away from Byron and glared at Aaron. He didn’t say anything. Hector, a dark eyed, dark-haired boy with a tiny dark moustache, turned to where Byron was sitting. He like everyone else found the idea that he beat Russell in a fight was insane. “That kid beat you up?” he turned to Russell. “What is he? A buck ten?”

    “Shut up, Hector!” said Russell, “He took me by surprise. And I got dirt in my eyes.”

    “That rhymed,” said Ted, a tall blonde with spikey hair, reaching for a high five from Hector, who just stared at him.

    “Yeah, yeah,” said Aaron raking his fingers though his hair, “It’s alright, man. It could have happened to anyone.”

    Russell looked up from his tray. “What are you talking about? I got beat up by a little kid. A little kid!”

    “It really is amazing, actually,” said Howie Nelson, a tall, 6′ 6″, boy with sandy-brown hair, “A little guy like him taking on a goliath like you, and it’s rather poetic really.”

    “Don’t start, Nelson,” said Russell, looking disgustedly at him, “And freaking chew with your mouth closed!”

    Howie smirked. “Roger, will comply.” he saluted and spit a little apple at him.

    “You know what you have to do, right?” said Hector, stopping Russell from getting up, “You need to have a rematch and take him down. If anyone from anywhere else hears about this, our team will be a laughingstock.”

    “I doubt there’s any chance of that,” said Howie, finishing his apple core.

    “Whys that?” challenged Hector.

    “Look at him,” said Howie pointing. “He wants to be left alone. He’s not interested in this stuff.”

    “Because I’ll kick his ass,” said Russell, standing up, “There’s no way he’ll beat me again!”

    “Yes,” said Aaron, “Nelson, go tell him to meet Russell at Old Town for a rematch. Tell him if he doesn’t, we’ll bother him until he does.”

    “Seriously?” said Howie, “You guys really want to do this?”

    “Of course we do,” said Aaron running his fingers through hair again, “Go tell him. Either way, things will be as they should.”

    Howie nodded.

    An Unwanted Student

    Byron took a deep breath, listening to the world around him, the vibrations of the school tapping his skin like insect legs. He slowly breathed out, hoping to relieve his anxiety. He opened his eyes and looked around. He saw the red fire alarm on the wall across the cafeteria. He turned his head to the right and saw a black rimmed clock, counting down the time for lunch to end—fifteen minutes. And then he turned to his left and, to his horror, someone was approaching him.

    His name was Todd Muckleroy, a large boy, with slicked-back, black hair, thick black glasses, which had clip on shades, and a superhero tshirt that Byron didn’t recognize. The two shared many of the same classes, as they were both freshman, and Byron found him exceptionally annoying.

    “Hi!” said Todd, extending his hand to shake. “My name’s Todd Muckleroy.”

    Byron glared at him, which had no effect. It only made him lean in closer, his hand reaching, trying so hard to be shook.

    “You are Byron Lucas, right?” He said, deciding to rest his hand on Byron’s.

    Byron, slowly, pulled his hand free and placed it on his lap. Raising an eyebrow, he said, “Why are you bothering me?”

    “I heard you beat the snot out of Russell Brown. Is that true?” he blurted out a bit louder than Byron would have preferred.

    The whole room went deadly quiet. Byron could feel everyone’s eyes on him again. Dead, listening stares, touched every part of him. He hated it.

    “What happened? Did he give you a wedgie?”

    Byron cracked a smile that gradually turned into a laugh. He laughed really hard, and had a hard time stopping, because no one had ever given him a wedgie. He didn’t even think they were real.

    It was hysterical, and if a single person wasn’t looking at him before they were now. Some were even chuckling along, unsure what was happening.

    Byron finally settled down, the thought fading to the back of his mind. “No,” he said, smiling, “Did he give you a wedgie?”

    Todd glanced around the cafeteria. “Well,” said Todd, leaning in to whisper, “Yes, I get wedgies every day.”

    “Why?” said Byron.

    Todd blushed as he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I think they’re jealous of how cool I am.”

    Byron stood up and picked up his tray. “You’re an idiot,” he said. He walked away, towards conveyer belt to place his tray. Sadly, he could feel Todd jogging up behind him. He winced and turned around. “You’re not going to follow me, are you?” he said, trying not to lose his temper.

    “Well, you see,” said Todd, ignoring Byron’s avoidance, “My parents are really confused about why my underwear gets so stretched. And I’m tired of lying to them.”

    “So, stop lying,” said Byron. “How does this involve me?”

    “Please, Sensei! Teach me your sweet, ninja moves!” He struck a pose much like a power ranger. Byron’s face ignited scarlet and felt like hot coals. ‘What the heck did he just say?’

    “I think you got the wrong guy,” said Byron. “I’m not a master, so I don’t teach. I don’t like people; I can’t stand being around them. Why do you think I sit alone?”

    “Well, everyone needs friends,” said Todd.

    Byron winced. “I don’t. Now please leave me alone.”

    The Rematch Invitation

    He walked away towards his locker, up a flight of steps and towards the freshman hallway, almost unaware of the looming presence of another following him. He ducked into an alcove of lockers where his stood near the entrance of his next classroom. He knew someone was there, behind him, but this one felt a lot calmer than Todd Muckleroy.

    He felt no need to hide. This was school after all, someone was bound to see him at his locker at some point, but hopefully this would be his one and only visitor. He spun the combination and opened his door as the shadow grew closer.

    Byron grabbed his English books and folder and closed the locker before he acknowledged the intruder.

    “Hey,” Byron said, dryly as he looked up at the giant, with about as much awe as he would if he were staring at a goldfish.

    “Hi, what’s up?” said Howie. He was chewing on a piece of gum, Byron sighed and rolled his eyes, not willing to start this conversation.

    “So…” said Howie. “There’s word that you beat the shit out of my bud Russell.”

    “Word, huh?” said Byron. “And if I did, what are you going to do about it?”

    “I’m not going to fight you,” said Howie, “Not because I’m afraid of you, but because that jerk probably deserved it. Honestly, I’m here because my friend is requesting a rematch, today afterschool, in Old Town. Do you know where that is?”

    “I gather it’s the historic district, with the brick roads and old buildings,” said Byron.

    “Yeah,” said Howie, “That’s the area. There’s a park there. That’s usually where that stuff takes place.”

    “Are you going to be there?” said Byron.

    “I… Am going, yes,” said Howie, “I’ll be there.”

    “Why?”

    Howie laughed. “My bud wants a rematch. I got to support him.”

    “He’s not your friend. You care less about that guy than you do me. You’re not fooling anyone.”

    Howie frowned. “While I may not particularly like the guy, he’s my teammate, and he’s going to kick your ass!”

    “Like last time, right?” A smirk grew on Byron’s face. “I doubt I’ll make it. So, however you guys want to spin it: Russell kicked my ass. I cried. Maybe throw in a wedgie for good measure. I don’t care. I won’t be there though. I’ve got more important people to see.”

    Howie tried to keep his clenched fists from rising. Byron noticed. “Fine,” said Howie, “You forfeit, because you’re too scared.”

    “I mean, however you want to spin it,” said Byron. “You let me know if you ever want to fight, though. I bet you have a vicious punch.”

    Byron turned into the empty classroom next to his locker and took a seat in the back of the room.

    ‘What a dick,’ Howie thought. ‘I hope Aaron is okay with this. For everyone’s sake.’

    Language Arts and the Ninja Note

    Byron continued his day with language arts taught by Miss Francine. She was the prettiest teacher he’d seen so far at Morrisville High School and her voice was sweet and calming. He couldn’t help but breath it all in and enjoy her classroom environment, except Todd had chosen to sit right next to him.

    They didn’t have assigned seats, however Byron liked sitting in the back because it was against the wall, with the least amount of people staring at him or even willing to talk to him. Most of the people in the back were “under achievers.” Several of which, it was clear, had used the lunch period to smoke weed in the student parking lot. He wasn’t fond of the smell, but it was the price one paid for a seat in the back.

    Todd looked nervous—like he’d never sat in the back of a classroom a day in his life. The thought was amusing, but at the same time made Byron anxious, because he knew what was coming. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Todd pushing a note closer and closer to the edge of his desk, to the point it was about to fall off. Miss Francine continued to teach, but Byron got the impression that she could tell some mischief was a foot in the back.

    Todd began to telegraph with his pencil loudly, including “pssts” and “heys” to get Byron’s attention. Byron took a deep breath and focused solely on the black board as Miss Francine explained participle phrases… or something like that.

    Then Todd started scooting his desk over. Inch by inch, sliding his desk closer to Byron’s.

    ‘Oh no,’ Byron thought, ‘seriously?’

    Todd’s desk was in the aisle, about to touch Byron’s, the note sliding on the corner of his desk now, folded neatly, when Miss Francine walked over.

    “Mr. Muckleroy? Fancy seeing you in the back of the class today. Did you get tired of my lessons?” She asked looking down into Todd’s eyes.

    “Oh!” said Todd, “Miss Francine, what brings you to the back of the class today?”

    Byron shook his head the classroom erupted with laughter.

    Miss Francine blinked and then grabbed the note on the desk and began to read it.

    ‘Please don’t read it out loud! Please don’t read it out loud!’ Byron thought to himself.

    Then she handed it to Byron. “It’s for you,” she said smiling. A smile from an angel…

    “Since it is Friday, and the end of the first week of school,” she addressed the class, “I’m going to let that slide, but, henceforth, I will not tolerate anyone passing notes in this classroom.”

    Byron glared at Todd, who in turn waved at Byron. “Read it,” he said.

    Byron shook his head and opened the note:

    Dear Sensei,

    I am willing to be your humble student, your protégé, your ward, in short, I need you to teach me how to be a ninja, so I can defeat my enemies and become the strongest fighter at Morrisville High School.

    I will stand up to the bullies and protect the weak; I will become the hero that this school needs. I will become Ninja Todd!

    Your Best Friend,

    Todd Muckleroy

    ‘I really can’t take this kid seriously,’ thought Byron shaking his head. He turned back to Todd, who gave him a thumbs up and a wide grin.

    Byron smiled, crumpled the note up, and dropped it on the floor. The returned Todd’s thumbs up.

    The Fight Setup

    The bell rang, and like the rest of the class, Byron grabbed his books and went to his locker. Todd followed him; their lockers were close by. Byron did his best to grab everything he needed for the weekend and run home. It shouldn’t be hard to leave Todd in the dust; he didn’t look like he could run fast, but as he closed his locker, Todd was already behind him. For the first time Byron was startled by someone.

    “What?” said Byron.

    “You didn’t answer my note,” said Todd.

    Byron twitched. “Crumpling it up didn’t give you a hint?”

    “I thought you were just destroying the evidence, like a ninja would,” said Todd smugly.

    Byron blinked. “I… I don’t know what to say to that.”

    “Clearly, you’re speechless,” said Todd, “Meaning, I’ve impressed you to take me on as your pupil. I will become a ninja and save this school from tyranny!”

    “You got some real ‘main character’ energy, Todd,” said Byron, placing his hand on Todd’s shoulder, “But I can’t teach you ninjitsu. I don’t do ninjitsu. So, this is goodbye.”

    “Please, Byron, I want to be able to defend myself. All my life I’ve been picked on, and I don’t know why. Maybe if I could defend myself, I would get some answers.”

    In his passion, Todd had put his hands on Byron, and instantly Byron grabbed his hands about to throw him to the ground, but he stopped himself. Todd wasn’t a bad guy…

    “No, Todd,” Bryon released his grip, “Listen, you’re incredibly annoying. Please leave me alone.”

    Byron walked away and Todd didn’t follow.

    He felt guilty about what just happened, but he knew why Todd got picked on: because he was emphatically himself, and no one accepted it. If he was just low key and went unnoticed, then he’d probably be a ninja, instead of always being so obnoxious…

    Byron made it out the doors and bobbed and weaved around people until he made it to the sidewalk. Everyone was talking about the “Big Fight” that was happening in Old Town. Byron laughed to himself. ‘They’ll all be very disappointed.’ He stood at the crosswalk with several other students, waiting for the WALK to light up.

    “Just got a text from Aaron,” said a boy standing there, “Fight at Old Town, going down in 30 minutes.”

    “How childish,” said a girl next to him.

    “Do you want to go?” he asked.

    “Sure,” she said, “Who’s fighting? Anyone we know?”

    “Russell Brown,” said the boy, “And some kid named Todd. It was supposed to be a rematch with that Lucas kid, but word is he’s a coward and wouldn’t show up.”

    “Oh gawd,” said the girl. “Is it that know-it-all Muckleroy? I wouldn’t mind seeing him get his ass kicked. He’s so annoying!”

    Byron stopped. ‘No. Oh no. Seriously?’

    He turned around, “Hey, how do you get to Old Town?”

    Old Town Showdown

    It wasn’t far from school, five blocks East, and Byron found himself walking down a red brick road with lots of shade from the trees up and down the sidewalks. He wondered how it could have happened so fast—Todd facing Russell in a fight. Was Russell and his friends near Byron’s locker when he rejected Todd? Did Todd lash out? He felt guilty about all that had happened that afternoon. Todd had no business fighting Russell. Then again, if Todd wanted to be in a fight so badly, perhaps this would be a chance for him to see what it was all about.

    Fighting, as Byron saw it, was just a means of protecting oneself and others. Had he just walked away when he was passing by Tina and Russell that day, he and Todd wouldn’t be in this mess. If he, Byron, had just accepted the rematch and lost gracefully, this could have been over.

    Lost in thought, he nearly ran into a stone column that sat in front of a large area surrounded by a black iron gate. He took a second to look at it. There seemed to be a house up on a hill, surrounded by trees within the black iron bars. Byron gave a whistle. ‘Does Dracula live here?’ he thought. But then his attention was possessed by what was across the street.

    On the other side lay Morrisville Park, a large open space with a playground and cement sidewalk that wrapped around it. Every parking spot was filled with a student vehicle, and a large group of students had formed a circle in the middle. ‘Bingo,’ thought Byron.

    Quietly, Byron slinked around the crowd and looked for an opening so he could get a good look at the action. He didn’t want to be noticed by Russell or his friends; he just wanted to make sure Todd was alright. He might have to step in and save him.

    As he scanned the park, he saw a tall tree just on the outside of the circle. It looked scalable, so Byron crept up and climbed the tree to a spot thick with foliage. The fight hadn’t started yet. Byron looked at his watch. He was already late. What were they waiting for?

    Todd stood in the middle of the circle, facing Russell, who seemed to be looking around for something. He wasn’t sure if he should strike first or wait till his opponent wasn’t distracted. What would his favorite superhero, Jackelope Man, do?

    Todd started hopping up and down. He imagined himself as Jackelope Man, with rabbit ears and antelope antlers and big rabbit feet. He saw himself jumping so high that he kicked Russell in the head, knocking him out with a single hit. ‘Oh yeah! I’m so cool,’ Todd thought.

    “What the hell is he doing?” Hector asked Howie as they watched Todd do a series of poses and mediocre kicks.

    Howie shook his head. ‘Where the heck is Lucas?’ Howie thought. ‘His friend is going to get destroyed.’

    Russell held back laughter as he turned to Aaron, who entered the ring at this time. Aaron believed that Byron would show up, due to what Aaron called his MO.

    “Where is he, Aaron?” asked Russell between snickers.

    Aaron, who had been scanning the crowd since the first person showed up to the park, shrugged. “I can’t find him. Maybe I misjudged him. Or maybe this doofus isn’t really his friend.”

    Howie stepped forward to join the conversation. “So, we’re calling this off, right? This kid can’t fight. Look at him.”

    Aaron smiled. “No. You heard what he said earlier. He wants to learn something about himself. Just lay him out flat, Russell. Be quick about it, we have things to do.”

    The Unexpected Outcome

    Howie grimaced and returned to the circle with Aaron. Russell approached Todd. He had little interest in beating this poor guy up. Certainly, wasn’t a good use of his time. They did have other things to do, specifically perusing the mall for girls.

    “I see you’re finally taking me seriously!” said Todd, assuming a crane stance. “I must warn you that my jackelope powers make me incredibly strong, for when I was bitten by a radioactive jackelope just after birth, I knew that I was different from others…”

    Russell punched him square in the face. Todd fell, his glasses flew off his face and to the grass,  broken in half. There was no cheering. Just silence, as everyone felt how one sided this fight was. Russell felt a twinge of shame, but just as Aaron said, this kid was wondering what he was made of. The crowd began to disperse, but then Todd hobbled back up on his feet.

    “Where… Do you think you’re going?” Todd stood up. His nose bloody and his face scarlet. He was panting. He hadn’t expected it to hurt that much, but he could still stand. He had to see if he could land one hit. “Hold on there. I’m not done yet.”

    “Kid,” said Russell, “I’m not hitting you again. It’s embarrassing.”

    The crowd recircled quietly. Nobody expected Todd to stand back up. From the tree, Byron couldn’t help but smile. This kid was tougher than he gave him credit.

    ‘I can’t just knock this kid down again,’ thought Russell. “Tell you what. You get one free shot. Punch me.”

    He ducked down to Todd’s level and tapped his cheek, a grin spread across his face as the crowd laughed.

    Byron watched as Todd anchored himself in a back stance—all his weight shifted in the back—as he placed his right fist at his waist. “What’s he doing?” Byron said out loud.

    “Falcooooooooon Punch!” shouted Todd as he stepped and punched Russell in the solar plexus, knocking the wind out of him.

    Byron blinked, stunned. “Did he just use a super smash move?”

    To everyone’s surprise, Russell fell back, being hit right in the solar plexus knocked the wind right out of him. Todd maintained his anime punching pose, panting, about to fall over from all the physical exertion.

    Hector stepped up and knelt to Russell to right him back up. “You’re making us look bad! Stand up, and knock him back down!” Russell righted himself and walked up to Todd as he lowered his arm.

    “Say good night, kid,” Russell picked up Todd and threw him hard on the ground.

    Todd breathed out an “oofff!” But he did not get back up.

    A New Bond

    Everyone dispersed. Russell and Hector exchanged a high five as they walked away. Byron had leapt down from the tree once everyone had gotten back in their cars. He watched Aaron close the door of his red charger and their eyes met. Aaron smirked as he and his friends drove away.

    Byron knelt next to Todd. “Hey, Todd. You, okay?”

    Todd gasped. “Did I win?”

    “Not in the slightest,” said Byron, smiling. “But you did alright for your first fight.”

    Todd’s breathing was labored but he seemed to be okay, just stunned and catching his breath. “So, can I be your student now? Did I prove myself worthy?”

    Byron hesitated. Something was happening. He felt a little differently towards Todd, like he wasn’t as annoying as he originally thought. It might be cool and hang out and train together. He didn’t have anyone to train with in this new town. “Yeah. I think you did. Let’s get you home and we can talk about it this weekend.”

     

    Missed Chapter 1? Read here: The New Kid

  • The New Kid

    The New Kid

    Loner Autumn (Ch1):

    The New Kid

    The End of Summer

    Tina Kurt, dressed in only a pink bikini, sat on the swing set in the small park inside her home subdivision, Morris Lake. It was the last day of summer break and Tina was determined to make it the best of all. She rocked back and forth on the swing set, her hands loosely gripping the plastic-covered chains, her bare feet digging into the warm gravel and her blond pigtails floating in the wind as it breathed a warm August breath.

    She tilted her head back and watched the sky as the sun sank slowly into the earth. She was getting a little worried. She expected him to come looking for her by now. She flirted with him all day; didn’t he notice? Though Aaron was the most popular, most athletic, most intelligent guy at Morrisville High School, he seemed also to be the most shy.

    Aaron had never had a girlfriend, but that wouldn’t last for long. Tina was going to be his first and he was going to come here today and make her a woman.

    She’d been planning this all summer, however things had been very hectic. There was cheer camp where she accomplished her first goal of becoming the cheer captain this upcoming school year–a very difficult task. She had to do a lot to get there. But this was necessary to accomplish her next goal of becoming Aaron Thompson’s girlfriend.

    Aaron, being the best boy in Morrisville High School, deserved the best and she was the best.

    She and her fellow cheerleaders had arranged a pool party at her house, and while wearing her favorite, skimpy, pink bikini showing off her goods, she knew she got Aaron all hot. It was hard to tell at first. She flirted with him explicitly, but he seemed to shrug her off. But when she flirted with his best friend Russell, he seemed to get a little jealous. She told her guests to make themselves at home while she went for a walk. Any minute he would be there to take her to ecstasy.

    A Dangerous Encounter

    She gasped as she heard the shuffling of gravel behind her. Her face flushed as she thought about Aaron’s strong arms taking her away from the park and back to his car to make her a woman and his girlfriend for his senior year, her freshman year. She would be the most popular and most envied girl at Morrisville… giggle.

    She turned around in the swing and said as sensually as she could, “Take me Aaron. I’m all yours.” But it wasn’t Aaron at all. It was Russell Brown, Aaron’s best friend.

    “Sorry babe, I’m not Aaron,” he said as he grabbed her and pulled her off the swing, “But I’m better.”

    Tina tried to scream, but Russell covered her mouth with one of his large hands and began to slip the other down the front of her bikini bottom. Tina’s eyes grew wide as she kicked her legs out and squirmed, trying to knock Russell off balance. It worked, but he threw her face down to the ground so hard that he knocked the wind out of her and also ripped off her bikini bottom.

    She gasped for breath as she felt the heat of blood rushing to her face, her voice trapped, trying to escape, but she could barely utter a groan.

    Russell positioned himself behind her, pinned her arms behind her back and spread her legs.

    Tina cried. Instead of starting high school as the youngest cheer captain in history, and Aaron’s girlfriend, she was going to start as a slut. Her eyes cascaded as she whimpered into the gravel, trying to bury herself to drown out the feelings…

    “Shut up bitch!” he said, caressing her thighs, “You’ve been getting me so hard all afternoon. All that flirting, you can’t tell me you don’t want this!”

    Her sobs got a little louder. “Please get off of me,” she said turning her head to the side, “This is a big misunderstanding! Just get off of me and I won’t say a word!”

    “I don’t care if you tell anybody,” he said, “You said it yourself, ‘take me…’ sounds like a slutty thing to say to me.” He smiled and snickered at his own joke as Tina buried her face back in the gravel. She wished she could suffocate right there and die, that way she couldn’t feel it… any of it.

    “Don’t worry, baby,” said Russell, “This is going to feel great… Oww! What the fuck?”

    Byron the Rescuer

    Something hit the back of Russell’s head, and as he wiped his hand at the spot, he felt the smear of blood in his hair. He turned his head around to see the palest kid he had ever seen in his life. He was short, couldn’t be older than a middle schooler, with curly red hair, freckles–staring like a hawk with narrowed eyes, never blinking. They seemed to glue Russell where he sat.

    The boy had a rock in his hand that he tossed up and caught. The rhythm mesmerized Russell for a moment, until then he remembered who he was.

    “Beat it, kid,” said Russell as he turned back to Tina, “You don’t want any of this. I’d break you in half.”

    The next rock flew and hit Russell in the same exact spot. He turned back around, “I said leave, kid! You don’t want to fight me!”

    “No, I don’t want to fight you,” said the kid, “I have to fight you.”

    Russell stood up. He wiped the gravel off his knees and sized up the kid. “What are you 4 foot 10 inches?”

    “4 foot 11,” said the kid. “But that is neither here nor there. Girl! Get up and run.”

    “Tina,” shouted Russell, turning around, “You stay right there!”

    He turned back to face the kid to see that he was right in front him. “Hi!” he said, as he jumped up six feet in the air and kicked Russell in the head.

    The kick knocked Russell sideways while the kid, with increased momentum, spun and kicked his other foot right into Russell’s chest before landing back on the ground.

    Russell fell backwards, nearly landing on Tina, who was attempting to crawl away. She watched as the boy stepped closer to them, hands in his pockets, like he had nothing to fear from the 6’2” linebacker.

    Russell grabbed his chest, trying to breath, but hurting immensely, he watched as the boy stood over him. “Had enough?” he asked, his eyes blazing.

    “Fuck you!” groaned Russell, as he reached out for the boy’s ankle. He stepped on Russell’s hand and then kick him in the temple, knocking him unconscious.

    Tina’s eyes popped as she sat up, shocked by what had just happened that she completely forgot that she was bottomless. Standing up, her eyes never left the boy’s physique. This scrawny, pale, freckle-faced boy, who somehow beat a high school football player, was her rescuer. Why?

    They had never even met before. In fact, she was positive he was brand new. She remembered seeing some moving vans coming and going for the past week. Was he from that new family?

    She looked down to see Russell, her assailant, on the ground, eyes rolled over and it dawned on her: Russell Brown was unconscious. One of the school’s best players was unconscious. What if he couldn’t play this season? Their team would be screwed! All because of this loser…

    The Walk Home

    “Hey, you!” said Tina, “What the hell are you doing? He’s one of our best… guard guys. What were you thinking?” But as all of this ran through her mind, the boy had walked away.

    “Where are you going?” she shouted.

    “Home,” he said.

    “You’re just going to leave me here alone? What if he wakes up?”

    “Well,” said the kid, “If he wakes up, all your problems are solved.”

    “Well,” she said chasing after him, “Then how did you just happen to save me? Are you following me? Are you some kind of pervert?”

    He stopped and turned around. “I live just around the corner,” he said, pointing in the direction he was walking, “And for the record, you’re of no interest to me.” He turned back around and walked away.

    “What do you mean you have no interest in me?” She caught back up to him. “I’m the hottest girl in school, the cheerleader captain!” she said, “You have no interest in me? I have no interest in you!”

    “And here I thought you were stalking me,” he said, letting go a small smile.

    “I’d never!” she said, “But could you just walk me home? I’m still a little shaken up.” She turned around to see if Russell was following them.

    The boy sighed. “Sure. I guess it’s not that big of a deal. But this is a onetime thing. I can’t come to your rescue all the time.”

    “Shut up!” she said.

    “And also…” he started, looking downward.

    “What?” she asked, looking down to realize she was still naked.

    She screamed and slapped the kid in the face.

    Tina led the way, a sweatshirt wrapped around her waist (courtesy of the boy), down the street towards her house. The road curved and whipped around, leading to stop signs and crosswalks, cut lawns and oak trees, and many children playing outdoors.

    It wasn’t until they heard the thumping of bass from a two story house did the two slow down a bit.

    Tina stopped abruptly, causing the boy to nearly run into her, but he stopped and sidestepped to avoid collision, ending up in front of her. Startled, she spoke, “So this is where I live. I can make it from here… So… Thanks for stopping that guy from…”

    “Don’t worry about it,” said the boy, “…Are you going to tell someone?”

    “No. Like I said, I don’t want to cause any trouble for our team. How would it look if our team lost our homecoming game?”

    The kid stared at her and shrugged. “As long as your priorities are in order…” He turned around and started to head home.

    “I’m Tina,” she called back to him.

    “I know.”

    “…What’s your name?”

    “…It’s… Byron… nice to meet you… I guess.”

    “You don’t talk to pretty girls much, huh?” she said blushing.

    “Yeah, whatever… I got to go. Gotta get ready for school tomorrow.”

    “Morrisville Middle?”

    Byron stopped. “No, Morrisville High. And I want my sweatshirt back. Preferably washed, thanks.” he said, walking away.

    At Tina’s House

    On Tina’s front porch stood a tall, young man with dark, brown hair, a cold beer can in his hand, he stood watching their exchange, wondering who this mysterious boy was. His brows furrowed when he saw Tina call back to him… ‘Morrisville High?’ he thought, ‘So I’ll get to meet him…’

    He watched as Tina walked up the drive, turning her head this way and that to see if anyone saw her. Their eyes met, and he forced a smile as it met her joyful face.

    “Who was that, Tina?” he asked, playfully.

    “Oh,” she said, “He’s just some guy that I met at the park. He was nice enough to walk me home.”

    “Oh?” he said, “Where’s Russell?”

    “Oh?” she said, “Is he not here? I don’t know, did he leave?”

    “He said he was going to follow you,” he said. “I assumed you two would meet up. He must have gotten himself lost.”

    “Well, he’ll be alright, Aaron,” she said, “How about we go back to the party. Are you feeling tipsy, at all?”

    Byron walked around the block. He and Tina had passed by his house, and it would have been faster to go back the way they came, but he didn’t want her having any idea where he lived.

    He liked things quiet. He was happy living alone with his father, little brother and computer. It was his life; high school was an unfortunate, full-time job for now and then… who knew?

    It was the last day of summer vacation and Byron wasn’t ready to start school again. It wasn’t going to be any different. Byron would stay away from everyone and they would stay away from him.

    His father worried about him because of this. When he, his father, was in school, he and his friends would go out and “paint the town redder than Dracula on a Sunday Night.”

    Byron suspected that he was more mature than his father ever was, because his father was always “painting” and getting into trouble. Some weekends Byron wouldn’t see him. There would be a note with money in it and he and his brother would rent a movie and order a pizza.

    Tad was Byron’s 8-year-old brother. He was a handful; he had almost as much energy as his dad, but with a tad more responsibility. Byron was Tad’s best friend, and Byron tried to be a good brother.

    He finished the loop around the neighborhood and ended up at his house. The red Jaguar sat in the open garage, letting Byron know his father was home and, with any luck, had prepared a simple dinner.

    His dad couldn’t cook, but thought he could, and he loved to try new recipes, they never turned out like they did in the magazines. Usually they would be burnt. Once it was under-cooked, but yet another occasion their old house nearly burned down…

    Byron Returns Home

    Byron stood gazing at the new house for a minute. It was nice a lot nicer than their old house… He sighed and opened the gate and stepped onto rthe path towards front door. As soon as he did so, a familiar presence crept up from behind him. Byron always knew when someone was around. He didn’t know why, but he could always feel people staring at him, as well as their intent. And this one behind him was expressing violence.

    “Hey, kid,” said a familiar voice, “I’m going to break your face.”

    Byron turned around, a smirk rested on his mouth, his eyes pressing an intent of calm. Russell stood on the other side of the fence, fists up and ready to swing.

    “Don’t you have a party to get to?” said Byron.

    “It won’t take long,” said Russell smirking, “Now that I know you know that karate crap, I can take you down easy.”

    Byron smiled. “I guess I should enjoy this. I don’t get very many visitors.” He put his hand on the gate to open it, when he heard a clatter from the front door. ‘Oh no…’ he thought as he turned around. It was his father.

    “Byron, you didn’t tell me you were inviting a friend over tonight.” Byron’s dad sprinted towards them, wearing a pink apron and rubber cleaning gloves. Russell looked a bit disheveled from the sight of a grown man wearing an apron, but seemed to regain his composure promptly when Byron’s dad stretched out his hand.

    “What’s your name, sport?” said Byron’s dad, “I’m Matt, Byron’s dad, and I’m so happy to meet you.” Then turning to Byron, “I knew you would make friends here! Morrisville is full of so many awesome people. I should know, I grew up here.”

    Russell laughed. “Your dad is such a dork!” he said.

    “Oh?” said Byron’s dad turning towards him… “I’m gonna kick your ass, you little snot!” Byron rolled his eyes and, half-heartedly, pressed on his dad’s chest.

    “Hold me back, Byron,” he yelled “Hold me back! I don’t want to go to jail for assaulting a minor! Hold me back!”

    Russell’s face went white in and instant. The sudden outburst was more than he expected, given his aggressor’s attire, and with less than a whimper, Russell turned tail and ran away.

    Byron shook his head. ‘Maybe later,’ he thought.

    Matt shook his fists in Russell’s direction, “Yeah, you better run! You punk ass! I hope that wasn’t a friend of yours. He’s a jerk. You can do so much better!”

    “No dad,” said Byron, smiling, “You know I don’t have any friends.”

    The two walked into the house. “I really wish you would give the other kids a chance, Byron,” his father continued, “I had so much fun when I was your age.”

    “Yeah, yeah,” said Byron, “You raised hell around your neighborhood. Dad most of the stuff you did was illegal.”

    “Is illegal,” said his father, chuckling, “Not that I’m promoting criminal activity, but that’s what makes it so much fun!”

    “Dad!” said Byron, “Jeeze! You’re not being a very good example for us kids.”

    “Byron!” said a little brown haired boy running down the hallway, “How was your walk?”

    “It was adequate,” said Byron, as he rubbed Tad’s head, “How was Tetramon 4?”

    “It’s ad-equate,” he said smiling, then going back to his game-man 3D he held in his little hands.

    “That’s what I like to hear,” said Byron smiling.

    “Alright you two,” said their father, “I hope you’re ready for a most delicious experience. Tonight, I’m making philly cheese steak lasagna!”

    “Dad!” said Byron, worried, “When are you going to figure out you can’t use an oven?”

    Byron’s father stared at him. “When I’ve given up on life, my boy! When I’ve given up on life!”

    “I’ll be upstairs, drama queen,” said Byron, “Queue me for my next big scene, ok?”

    Quiet Reflections

    Byron went upstairs to his room and closed the door. It was dark, except for the setting sun peering through the window. He took a deep sigh as he stared at his tidy room. Nothing out of place; everything had a place. He saw his backpack hanging from his desk chair and remembered his first day of school. ‘Only four more years of this,’ he thought, ‘…And then what?’

    He crossed the room to his window and looked into the dimming light. The stars were peeking out of the bluish, black sky and the concrete and asphalt looked so pleasant in the budding darkness. The street lights were on and the lightning bugs flashed their green bottoms below.

    He couldn’t help but laugh. ‘That Tina girl… lost her bottom…’

    He started thinking about his old hometown. His old dojang back in Blainesburg. And his old rival, Alisa. She was the best at their school, and she kicked his ass every day. It was true that Byron didn’t have any friends; nobody cared when he moved, but her. He remembered that last class he had. She beat him extra hard that day, not that he didn’t get some good shots in himself…

    He remembered her last words to him when he left with his dad that night: “Hey, bonehead! Here’s my screenname, you better keep in touch with me. I’m online nearly every Friday night.”

    Byron smiled. Maybe she was on right now. He walked over to his computer and turned it on, hoping to catch her online.

     

    Continue the story here: The Schoolyard Fight

  • Fenrick the White Wolf Warrior

    Fenrick the White Wolf Warrior

    The White Wolf Warrior

    The Birth of a Hunter: Fenrik’s Curse

    The night burned with a savage glow, torches casting long shadows against the jagged cliffs of the northern shores. Smoke curled into the heavens, blotting out the stars as screams echoed in the distance. Villages that once stood proud now lay in ruin, their bones consumed by fire. The warbands had come—merciless raiders with hatred in their hearts and steel in their hands.

    Following them stalked a figure clad in blackened leather and fur, his presence cutting through the chaos like a blade. A mane of stark white hair crowned his head, and his eyes gleamed an unnatural gold. He was a hunter, a predator born of frost and fury, sent to avenge the fallen village. They called him Fenrik, The White Wolf.

    Fenrik moved through the charred remains of a fishing village, his silver sword dripping with the blood of those who had dared cross him. His nostrils flared, catching the acrid scent of burning wood mingled with the iron tang of blood. His prey was close.

    The band of raiders he pursued had fled inland, abandoning their plunder in a desperate bid to escape. They knew who hunted them, and they knew the tales—the White Wolf would not stop until justice was done.

    Fenrik had once been a man like any other. He had loved, laughed, and lived beneath the warm sun. But those days were gone, stripped from him by a cruel twist of fate. His family had been slaughtered by marauders under a blood-red moon, their screams forever etched into his mind. Left for dead, Fenrik had clawed his way back to life, swearing an oath of vengeance.

    He had sought out the elders of the Frozen Circle, an ancient order that wielded powers beyond mortal men. They had remade him, fusing his soul with the essence of the wolf. It was a gift, they claimed, but Fenrik knew it for what it truly was—a curse. His senses were sharper than any blade, his strength unmatched, yet he paid the price with his humanity. His golden eyes betrayed him, marking him as something other, something monstrous.

    He embraced it.

    Steadily, he tracked his prey through the dark forest. His ears caught the faint crunch of boots on frostbitten leaves. His lips curled into a feral grin.

    The raiders were camped in a glade, their fire a feeble defense against the cold. Fenrik crouched in the shadows, the wind carrying their voices to his keen ears. He moved quietly towards their encampment.

    “Do you think he’ll come?” one of them asked, his voice trembling.

    “He’s a ghost, you fool,” another spat. “The White Wolf isn’t real. Just a story to scare children.”

    The raiders had left a trail of death and destruction in their wake. Villages burned; families butchered. They called it war, but Fenrik called it cowardice. He had seen enough blood spilled in his lifetime to know the difference between conquest and cruelty.

    The Hunt for Vargan the Flame

    He slipped through the underbrush, silent as snowfall. One of the men moved to relieve himself near the tree line. Fenrik struck without hesitation, a flash of silver slicing through the night. The man crumpled to the ground, his lifeblood steaming in the cold air.

    The others barely had time to react before the White Wolf was among them. His blade sang, a deadly symphony of steel and vengeance. The raiders fought back, but their crude weapons were no match for his speed and skill. One by one, they fell, their screams swallowed by the forest.

    When the last man dropped, Fenrik stood amidst the carnage, his chest heaving. Blood soaked his hands and spattered his face, but his golden eyes burned with a cold satisfaction. He wiped his blade clean on a fallen raider’s tunic, then turned his gaze to the fire.

    Among the scattered supplies was a map, its edges singed. Fenrik picked it up, his sharp eyes scanning the markings. It showed the raiders’ route—a path that led directly to the stronghold of their leader, a warlord known only as Vargan the Flame.

    He folded the map and tucked it into his belt.

    The stronghold loomed on the horizon as the first light of dawn painted the sky in hues of red and gold. Fenrik had traveled through the night, his supernatural endurance carrying him far beyond the limits of mortal men. The gates of the fortress were massive, built to withstand an army. But Fenrik was no army—he was an avatar of justice.

    He approached the gates under the cover of darkness, scaling the stone walls with the agility of a wolf on the hunt. The guards never saw him coming. By the time he slipped into the heart of the fortress, the sun had risen, casting long shadows across the blood-stained courtyard.

    Vargan the Flame sat upon a throne of iron and bone; his hulking frame draped in furs. His red hair and beard seemed to glow like embers, and his eyes were as cruel as the axe he held in his hands.

    “So, the White Wolf comes to my den,” Vargan said, his voice a rumble. “I’ve heard the stories. They say you’re a demon, a monster. Let’s see if you bleed like a man.”

    Fenrik stepped into the light, his silver blade gleaming.

    The two clashed with a fury that shook the walls. Vargan’s axe was a mountain, heavy and relentless, but Fenrik danced around it, his movements precise and fluid. He struck with the speed of lightning, his blade biting into Vargan’s flesh again and again.

    But the warlord was no mere brute. He fought with the cunning of a seasoned warrior, forcing Fenrik to push himself to the limit. The battle raged on, blood staining the ground as the two titans collided.

    In the end, it was Fenrik who prevailed. With a final, desperate strike, he drove his blade through Vargan’s chest, piercing the warlord’s heart. The giant fell to his knees, his axe slipping from his grasp.

    “For the villages you burned,” Fenrik said, his voice cold. “For the lives you destroyed.”

    The Path of the White Wolf Never Ends

    Vargan’s eyes dimmed, and he collapsed, the fire in him finally extinguished.

    The stronghold was silent as Fenrik stepped into the morning light. The torches of war had been snuffed out; their smoke carried away on the breeze. But Fenrik felt no triumph, no joy. The hunt was his muse, but it left him hollow.

    He turned his gaze to the horizon, where the rivers flowed, and the shores stretched on forever. There would always be another warlord, another torch to extinguish. His path was endless, a means to an end he could no longer remember.

    And so he vanished into the wilderness, a shadow among shadows, leaving only the whispers of his legend behind.

     

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  • Beneath the Black Flag: A Pirate Ghost Ship Tale

    Beneath the Black Flag: A Pirate Ghost Ship Tale

    A Pirate Ghost Ship Tale

    The Code of the Sea: No Kings, No Masters

    The ocean stretched endlessly before them, a restless expanse of churning waves and howling winds. The Black Widow, a sleek and weathered brigantine, cut through the sea like a blade. Her sails, ink-black against the steel-grey sky, billowed with the promise of chaos. Atop the mainmast, a flag whipped in the gale—a skull and crossed swords, a harbinger of doom for any ship unfortunate enough to cross their path.

    Captain Marlow, a wiry man with a salt-and-pepper beard and eyes as cold as the depths, stood at the helm, his hands firm on the wheel. Around him, his crew of outlaws worked with the precision of a well-tuned instrument. They were a motley bunch—former assassins, escaped slaves, and thieves who had swapped their chains for freedom. Together, they had forged a creed: no kings, no masters, only the sea.

    “Hoist the main, you scallywags!” Marlow bellowed, his voice cutting through the storm. “We’ve a prize to catch, and the tide won’t wait for your laziness!”

    A roar of agreement answered him. The men moved with practiced haste; their movements born of survival rather than obedience. Among them was a towering man named Gideon, his muscles corded like rope, who hauled the rigging with ease. Beside him, quick-footed Amara, a former assassin with daggers at her hips and a deadly gleam in her eyes, secured the lines with deft fingers.

    The ship leapt forward, the wind filling her sails. Ahead, the target came into view—a merchant ship flying the colors of a wealthy kingdom. Her hull was laden with goods, and her escort—a single frigate—seemed laughable by comparison.

    “Look alive!” Marlow called. “It’s a fine day to bleed a kingdom dry!”

    The crew let loose a chorus of cheers and bawdy songs, their voices rising above the gale.

    The Black Widow closed the distance with terrifying speed. The merchant ship’s escort, realizing the danger, turned to intercept. Cannons boomed, and iron shot splintered the air, but the Widow danced out of range like a predator toying with its prey.

    “Amara!” Marlow barked.

    She was already moving, scaling the rigging with the ease of a shadow. From her perch high on the mast, she drew a longbow and notched an arrow. Her aim was true—the projectile sliced through the air and buried itself in the neck of the frigate’s helmsman.

    The enemy ship veered wildly. The Black Widow took her chance, closing the gap with the merchant vessel. Grappling hooks flew, biting into the wood of the enemy’s hull.

    “Board her!” Marlow roared, drawing his cutlass.

    The crew swarmed over the rails like locusts. Steel clashed with steel as the merchant crew tried to mount a defense. Gideon led the charge, his massive frame a wall of muscle and fury. He swung a boarding axe with brutal efficiency, clearing a path through the chaos.

    Amara moved like a specter, her daggers flashing in the dim light. One by one, the merchant guards fell, their cries lost to the storm.

    Marlow himself was a whirlwind of calculated violence. His cutlass found throats and bellies, each strike deliberate, each death a step closer to victory.

    Within minutes, the deck was theirs.

    Mercy, Loot, and a New Choice

    The merchant captain, a portly man with a powdered wig now askew, knelt before Marlow. His face was pale, his hands trembling as he held out a ledger. The rest of the merchant crew stood down, under the watchful eyes of Gideon and Amara and the hundreds of pistols pointed at them.

    “Please,” he stammered, “take what you will, but spare my men.”

    Marlow towered over him. He and his crew lived by their own code. Were they pirates? Yes. But when surrender is met and bounty taken, there’s no more need for wasted effort.

    Still Marlow sneered. “Spare your men? Now why should I do that?”

    The merchant captain gulped. “They’re wives and children, who will look at them?”

    “The government!” Marlow’s men laughed. Even the stone-cold Amara’s eyes flitted with amusement.

    The merchant captain’s eyes widened in horror.

    Marlow smirked. “Sorry. My men have a point. The spineless, tyrants will look after them.”

    The merchant crew nearly rose up but were reminded where they stood during this exchange. Captain Marlow noticed. He smiled. He knew his decision.

    Gideon emerged from below the ship, a line of chained prisoners followed him.

    “Slaves?” Marlow asked the merchant captain.

    He was close to sobbing. Marlow tapped his round cheek with his cutlass. “Answer, please?”

    “Slaves. Men who couldn’t pay their debts. Taken as payment,” he sobbed.

    “Your government disgusts me!” said Captain Marlow. He raised his voice to everyone on the deck. “But I won’t hold that against you. You patient dogs who do as you’re told. You have my mercy this night, but we will be plundering you.”

    His crew descended into the hold, hauling out crates of silks, spices, and gold coins stamped with royal insignias.

    “Free the slaves, Gideon,” said Captain Marlow.

    “We free them,” he growled, snapping the chains with his bare hands.

    The freed prisoners, though weak, raised their heads in gratitude. Some wept openly, while others stared at their liberators with a mixture of awe and fear.

    “You are free now,” Marlow said. “Free to join us. If not, we’ll see you safely to the next port. You merchants are spared. Don’t get in our way and we can all survive this storm.”

    As the Black Widow sailed away from the gutted merchant ship, the storm intensified. Lightning split the sky, illuminating the faces of the crew and something strange over the horizon.

    “Captain!” Amara called from the crow’s nest. “Something’s wrong!”

    The Ghost Ship and the Reckoning

    Marlow looked to where she pointed. A monstrous wave loomed on the horizon, darker than the night itself. But it was what rode atop the wave that sent a chill down his spine—a massive ship, its sails torn and its hull blackened as if by fire.

    “The Eternal Revenant,” Gideon whispered, his face pale.

    The ghost ship was a legend among pirates, a vessel crewed by the damned and cursed to haunt the seas forever. Its captain, known only as The Reaper, was said to hunt those who had spilled blood unjustly.

    “We’ve nothing to fear,” Marlow said, though his voice lacked its usual steel. “We honor the poor and fight against tyranny. We’re no villains.”

    The crew nodded, though unease crept through them like a shadow.

    The Eternal Revenant closed the distance impossibly fast. The storm seemed to part for it, the waves bending to its will. Its cannons roared, and spectral fire rained down upon the Black Widow.

    Marlow’s crew fought valiantly, but their weapons passed through the ghostly attackers as though they were air. One by one, his men fell, their spirits ripped from their bodies by the Reaper’s blade.

    As the last of his crew fell, Marlow stood alone on the deck, his cutlass useless against the towering figure before him. The Reaper’s eyes glowed like twin embers, his boney hand reaching out towards Marlow to hold him.

    “Why do you come for us?” Marlow demanded. “We are just like yourself. We plunder the rich and fight for the honorable man.”

    The Reaper’s voice was like the grinding of stone. “Your creed is noble, and you hate shedding honest blood, but you are not exempt from what must be done. The eyes of justice may seem blind, but they are not infallible. All debts must be paid, and yours is due.”

    Marlow dropped his blade. He met The Reaper’s gaze with defiance before his ship sunk under the waves.

     

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