As promised, here’s the first Throwback Thursday story for my month-long mortification and your eternal entertainment. Today’s horror is a...

Throwback Thursday: NaNoWriMo 2011

As promised, here’s the first Throwback Thursday story for my month-long mortification and your eternal entertainment. Today’s horror is an excerpt from my very first novel, written in NaNoWriMo 2011. It’s title? Take Me As I Am. Yeah, go ahead and gag. You know you want to.


***


Prologue
I stared long and hard at the picture of my mother and father in the locket around my neck. Normally only girls had things like that. Gold heart-shaped necklaces to remind them of their folks. That’s why I always kept it in my pocket, to keep the other guys from seeing it. I knew they’d beat me up and take it from me.  I could just hear the screams of, “Sissy!” and “Wimp!” I’d be “baby Elliot” till I was legal in 4 years and could finally leave the stinkin’ place.

I sighed, thinking of how, if my mom and dad were alive, my life wouldn’t be like this. I imagined warm clothes and good food. Money for all our needs. I closed my eyes, drifting away to my happy place.

With a jolt, I returned to reality. I wiped away the tear that tried to find it’s way out of my eye and sniffed, as I snapped the locket closed, hard.

I was tough; I’d lived in this orphanage practically my entire life. And tough guys don’t cry.



Chapter 1
“Hey Johnson! C’mere!”

I ignored them. I wasn’t in the mood to be made fun of today. It was my birthday. Of course, for most people it was a happy occasion, with presents, cake and ice cream, friends and relatives to celebrate with you. Not for me. My presents? The new-old khakis I’d gotten out of the donations yesterday. My cake? Hard brown bread. Ice cream? Cheap milk. My friends? I had none. My family? Me. Just me. Elliot Andreas Johnson, the name the people at the orphanage had given me.

I didn’t like my name much. I thought it sounded sort of dumb. And I hardly needed another reason for the guys to make fun of me. Because if they called me, I knew that was what it was for.

It was days like today that I managed to find fault with everything about me.

It didn’t really matter. Only the teachers and directors called me that anyway. Everyone else called me Johnson or Andreas, if they called me at all. Unless, of course, they wanted to tease me.

“Hey Dreas, you gonna eat that?”

My best friend, Devon (OK, so I did have some friends), interrupted my dismal thoughts. He looked hopefully at me. This kid had the appetite of a horse. 
 
I shook my head and pushed my tray toward him. Then, I got up and went to the bedroom I shared with 4 other guys, Devon included. They were all here eating lunch, and I needed to be alone.


I flopped on my bed and cried. I couldn’t help it. My pain just overwhelmed me and spilled over. I wondered if any of the other boys ever felt this way. Or was mine the only pillow wet with tears?

Slowly, I lifted my head. Here I was again, for the second time today. What in the world was wrong with me? I wasn’t normally such a cry baby.

I smacked myself across the face. “Get a grip, Elliot!” I said. I didn’t know what was with this sudden fit of feeling sorry for myself. I just suddenly felt depressed, and unable to cope. I sighed. Gosh, I need help!

I went to the bathroom and looked at my face in the mirror. On the right side, I had big brown eyes, and Mexican-tinted skin, my face framed by my shoulder-length raven hair. The left side, though, was a different story. I gently placed two of my fingers on the left side of my chin, and turned my head. My left eye was the same as my right one, large, and dark chocolate brown. But from there, everything changed. Scars were scattered all across my cheek, as if someone had drawn it, and then a two year-old had come and scribbled all over that side.


***


There’s a little bit more to this scene, but it ain’t gettin’ any better, and this post was getting long. So I decided to cut it here and spare us all.

Anyways... thoughts? Let me know if I managed to write anything right when I was 14. If not, you can say that, too. lol I promise I won’t be offended.



You may also like

4 comments:

  1. Ok for a first draft that was actually really good. Some things could be fixed of course but I like the story idea!

    ReplyDelete
  2. I think the idea sounded interesting. I can see the immaturity in the writing, but it wasn't awful. I leaned toward writing people from orphanages a lot as a kid lol. Thanks for sharing!

    Stori Tori's Blog

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Haha, glad I'm not the only one! No problem, and thanks for commenting!

      Delete

Template by Sora Templates. Design by Alexa @ Summer Snowflakes. Button by Mae from Superswankified. Powered by Blogger.