I am reading the story but I need to catch up! Actually, I need to catch up on various other stories! But don't worry, I'll come back to read some more.
Couldn't Do It Alone....
- Thread starter SimonW
- Start date
SimonW
Well-known member
I understand. Do not worry, I have quite a bit more to write before putting anymore up.
I shall allow you to catch up if you are so far behind.
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SimonW
Well-known member
Note: I know this will raise a few eyebrows but understand the character. He is being rebelious but does not recant his faith in his religion. It is just his way of easing off all the things that seemed to suffocate him...like the orange suit. It is symbolic, nothing more.
(Chapter 4, Part 2)
I do not know what had come over me. Wether it was the pressure of my over-bearing mother or the fact my birthday was on the same day as my Uncle Rich’s funeral but something in my head compelled me to do what I did next.
With a flick of my wrist, I snapped open my lighter and clicked it with my thumb. The solitary flame soon became a blaze as I knelt down to my wastepaper basket and set alight the corner of my Angelic Proclaim robe. It took a moment but pretty soon the whole robe was alight in my metal wastepaper basket and I immediately threw my orange sweater I had worn to Uncle Rich’s funeral and the wooden soldiers I had gotten from Claire at my “birthday party”. It was not like I wanted to throw in the wooden soldiers, I acted on impulse and before I knew it pretty soon they were also burning within my wastepaper basket as the flames soon overcame the orange sweater and was roaring again as it came in contact with the wooden soldiers.
I knelt a few feet away, merely gazing at the fire, having extinguished my lighter with the lid after setting my Angelic Proclaim robe on fire.
I felt dazed and almost a sense of freedom, not noticing my mother coming in and screaming blooming heck as she grabbed me and dragged me down the stairs with me in only my boxer shorts out into the street. Luckily the small community of this town meant fast fire service and it was only a few minutes before the firemen arrived and with two short bursts of a fire extinguisher had gotten the situation under control.
I barely listened as the fireman in charge had merely taken it all in good humour and gave my mum a slight talking to about how the damage was very little, in fact only the wastepaper basket and it’s contents were the only things damaged and overall that “boys will be boys”, as if I was a little kid. It did not help the fact he ruffled my hair and gave me a precautionary warning. What was this guy, a moron?
After the fire service left my mother scolded me as we made our way back inside the house.
She practically thrust me inside and slammed the front door behind her.
“Henry! What has gotten into you?!?” my mother snapped at me.
I did not answer straight away because I was not sure myself. I knew it was a drastic and stupid thing to do but I had still done it.
My mother did not seem to wait for an answer, as if she really expected me to answer back, and suddenly wandered past me to the Kitchen.
“I’m going for a drink. Do not expect you are off the hook, Henry!” my mother shouted as she opened the door to the Kitchen and slammed it shut behind her.
(to be continued...)
(Chapter 4, Part 2)
I do not know what had come over me. Wether it was the pressure of my over-bearing mother or the fact my birthday was on the same day as my Uncle Rich’s funeral but something in my head compelled me to do what I did next.
With a flick of my wrist, I snapped open my lighter and clicked it with my thumb. The solitary flame soon became a blaze as I knelt down to my wastepaper basket and set alight the corner of my Angelic Proclaim robe. It took a moment but pretty soon the whole robe was alight in my metal wastepaper basket and I immediately threw my orange sweater I had worn to Uncle Rich’s funeral and the wooden soldiers I had gotten from Claire at my “birthday party”. It was not like I wanted to throw in the wooden soldiers, I acted on impulse and before I knew it pretty soon they were also burning within my wastepaper basket as the flames soon overcame the orange sweater and was roaring again as it came in contact with the wooden soldiers.
I knelt a few feet away, merely gazing at the fire, having extinguished my lighter with the lid after setting my Angelic Proclaim robe on fire.
I felt dazed and almost a sense of freedom, not noticing my mother coming in and screaming blooming heck as she grabbed me and dragged me down the stairs with me in only my boxer shorts out into the street. Luckily the small community of this town meant fast fire service and it was only a few minutes before the firemen arrived and with two short bursts of a fire extinguisher had gotten the situation under control.
I barely listened as the fireman in charge had merely taken it all in good humour and gave my mum a slight talking to about how the damage was very little, in fact only the wastepaper basket and it’s contents were the only things damaged and overall that “boys will be boys”, as if I was a little kid. It did not help the fact he ruffled my hair and gave me a precautionary warning. What was this guy, a moron?
After the fire service left my mother scolded me as we made our way back inside the house.
She practically thrust me inside and slammed the front door behind her.
“Henry! What has gotten into you?!?” my mother snapped at me.
I did not answer straight away because I was not sure myself. I knew it was a drastic and stupid thing to do but I had still done it.
My mother did not seem to wait for an answer, as if she really expected me to answer back, and suddenly wandered past me to the Kitchen.
“I’m going for a drink. Do not expect you are off the hook, Henry!” my mother shouted as she opened the door to the Kitchen and slammed it shut behind her.
(to be continued...)
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SimonW
Well-known member
Yeah, adults. *rolls eyes*
Though I'm technically one myself now. lol.
Henry certainly has a hard life. But his own thoughts and actions do not exactly help his plight.
It shall go to school...as the next chapter will indicate once I write it up.
As to what may happen to Henry...who knows? Even I myself have doubts as to what the future may hold for him.
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SimonW
Well-known member
End of Chapter 4...
Despite my mum’s words, she was fortunately not one to enforce them. I counted myself as lucky in that my mother drowns her problems in booze and is too lazy to do anything of a parenting nature. It was also really fortunate my Dad had not heard about it. But as I slowly opened my eyes at the morning haze that was to await me, I almost had wished my parents were more attentive of me.
My school uniform was almost as bad as my now non-existent itchy orange suit. I did not like the low-cut grey shorts that rose above my knees. Every time I moved in them they seemed to feel constricting of my thigh muscles that wanted to stretch out in a normal walking manner. The grey blazer was just as worse, having constricting sleeves that made my arms feel slightly numb whenever I tried to crinkle it. The glaring emblem on the blazer is of a cross, of course, with the name of the Dunsville Christian School with the D.C.S initials stamped upon the crest in green behind the silver/grey cross in the middle of the crest. I fiddled with the iron-pressed light green striped white shirt that I wore under my blazer. With a heavy heart, I buttoned up the white and green speckled buttons upon the shirt, idly stuffing the front and back of it down my shorts as best I could against the restricting grey shorts.
Completing my outfit was black shoes that were polished and pull-up socks that reached a quarter ways between my ankles and my knees. I observed myself in the bathroom mirror, having had a shower and brushed my teeth beforehand after I had gotten up. I was just finishing combing my hair. I looked like a pansy but Dunsville Christian School had a strict dress code policy for kids in my grade and before my grade. The older kids were given more leniencies to school clothing, as long as they wore the blazer at all times.
Sighing at my reflection in the mirror, I felt miserable. But I knew I could do nothing about it.
‘Henry Dawson, you look like a right git,’ I thought to myself.
But this self-loathing seemed to ease my pain of how I looked. I knew nobody else dared to make fun of my outfit because most other boys my age and younger wore the same thing.
My mum called from the car, the faint sound of our car horn blaring.
(End of Chapter 4, to be continued...)
EDIT: Decided to change this from Chapter five to a continuation of Chapter four, as I felt the chapter was a little short.
Despite my mum’s words, she was fortunately not one to enforce them. I counted myself as lucky in that my mother drowns her problems in booze and is too lazy to do anything of a parenting nature. It was also really fortunate my Dad had not heard about it. But as I slowly opened my eyes at the morning haze that was to await me, I almost had wished my parents were more attentive of me.
My school uniform was almost as bad as my now non-existent itchy orange suit. I did not like the low-cut grey shorts that rose above my knees. Every time I moved in them they seemed to feel constricting of my thigh muscles that wanted to stretch out in a normal walking manner. The grey blazer was just as worse, having constricting sleeves that made my arms feel slightly numb whenever I tried to crinkle it. The glaring emblem on the blazer is of a cross, of course, with the name of the Dunsville Christian School with the D.C.S initials stamped upon the crest in green behind the silver/grey cross in the middle of the crest. I fiddled with the iron-pressed light green striped white shirt that I wore under my blazer. With a heavy heart, I buttoned up the white and green speckled buttons upon the shirt, idly stuffing the front and back of it down my shorts as best I could against the restricting grey shorts.
Completing my outfit was black shoes that were polished and pull-up socks that reached a quarter ways between my ankles and my knees. I observed myself in the bathroom mirror, having had a shower and brushed my teeth beforehand after I had gotten up. I was just finishing combing my hair. I looked like a pansy but Dunsville Christian School had a strict dress code policy for kids in my grade and before my grade. The older kids were given more leniencies to school clothing, as long as they wore the blazer at all times.
Sighing at my reflection in the mirror, I felt miserable. But I knew I could do nothing about it.
‘Henry Dawson, you look like a right git,’ I thought to myself.
But this self-loathing seemed to ease my pain of how I looked. I knew nobody else dared to make fun of my outfit because most other boys my age and younger wore the same thing.
My mum called from the car, the faint sound of our car horn blaring.
(End of Chapter 4, to be continued...)
EDIT: Decided to change this from Chapter five to a continuation of Chapter four, as I felt the chapter was a little short.
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SimonW
Well-known member
Chapter 5 Part 1
Chapter 5: D.C.S
The car ride was as quiet as the day we drove home from Uncle Rich’s funeral. It seemed like forever, but that was only two days ago.
My mother had not brought up the lighter incident. I felt no need to bring it up either. I just glanced down at my knees, tugging lightly at the corner of my grey shorts leg. I hated sitting in this outfit. It was like getting a wedgie but you were sitting down instead of standing up and the wedgie itself was self-inflicting rather than having somebody pull at your underwear.
The car idled along, a short sputtering coming from the overwrought engine with the metallic clink from the dent almost sounding like flint stones being knocked together.
It was not long until we were passing the suburb neighbourhood. I glanced out the window and had a quick glimpse at the school bus that was awaiting passengers.
I know why I did not get to go on the school bus. Or even why I was not allowed to go on my bicycle to school. My mum said it was not good principle. I did not buy that. I reckoned it was just an excuse so she knew she could keep an eye on me to school. My mother was a bit cautious, but not for my sake. She was just afraid I’d get up to trouble and her status as a Christian would be more tarnished then it already was.
With this sour thought in my head, I felt distant to the rest of the children, at least the ones that were allowed to be able to get to school almost independently.
I glanced away from the window.
“Mum?” I suddenly asked her.
My voice was almost timid. I had not talked like that since I was eight years old.
“Hmm?” was her queried response, not taking her eyes off the road as I glanced over at her.
“Do you mind if I walk home from school?” I asked, my throat feeling dry as I knew the answer already.
“No, Henry. You know you need adult supervision,” she responded automatically.
There was no hint of anger in her voice but I detected the stern note she most normally used when dealing with me or Dad.
“But, I’m thirteen now. I don’t need adult supervision,” I said, a hint of a whine escaping from my mouth.
“Frankly, Henry, you do,” she had said quite plainly, detecting my whine as a sign of rebellion.
I did not respond, hanging my head down again. She was almost blatantly hinting about the lighter incident. I knew I could not win this point.
We continued for the next few minutes in silence until we stopped outside the school gates. The car sputtered and coughed but settled down to finally stop by the curb.
I got out with my issued satchel and closed the door behind me, not glancing back at my mother. She did not stay. She just gave a smash to the dashboard as the car would not start. It burst into life and with a jump start she was out of here like a bullet out of a gun, leaving a small trail of smoke in its wake.
I glanced up at the large iron gates in front of me. It seemed to mock and scoff at my small stature every day I saw it. The doors were open now but once school started, I knew those gates would close and stay shut until four in the afternoon.
Above the iron barred gate doors was the plaque of our school, the large letters D.C.S embroidered with iron whilst the crest was resting inside the bronzed plaque. The silver-coloured large cross almost looked like a beacon of sorts. It plainly stated, “Yes, we are a religious school”.
Despite this, it was still a co-ed school, mixed with boys and girls of different races. But all the students are of Christian faith. Some just took it more seriously than others.
“Well, if it isn’t Henry Dawson. Gonna burn the school down, ya freak?” asked a conceited drawling voice I knew only too well.
I turned my head sharply in the direction of the voice. Yep, it was Billy Watkins. The smug git was smiling like the cat that got the cream. His friends, Ted and Roger Fairview were guffawing lightly to each other. I glared at the three of them but did not respond. I clenched my hand that held my satchel into a fist as I walked past the gate and the three of them into the school grounds.
(to be continued...)
Chapter 5: D.C.S
The car ride was as quiet as the day we drove home from Uncle Rich’s funeral. It seemed like forever, but that was only two days ago.
My mother had not brought up the lighter incident. I felt no need to bring it up either. I just glanced down at my knees, tugging lightly at the corner of my grey shorts leg. I hated sitting in this outfit. It was like getting a wedgie but you were sitting down instead of standing up and the wedgie itself was self-inflicting rather than having somebody pull at your underwear.
The car idled along, a short sputtering coming from the overwrought engine with the metallic clink from the dent almost sounding like flint stones being knocked together.
It was not long until we were passing the suburb neighbourhood. I glanced out the window and had a quick glimpse at the school bus that was awaiting passengers.
I know why I did not get to go on the school bus. Or even why I was not allowed to go on my bicycle to school. My mum said it was not good principle. I did not buy that. I reckoned it was just an excuse so she knew she could keep an eye on me to school. My mother was a bit cautious, but not for my sake. She was just afraid I’d get up to trouble and her status as a Christian would be more tarnished then it already was.
With this sour thought in my head, I felt distant to the rest of the children, at least the ones that were allowed to be able to get to school almost independently.
I glanced away from the window.
“Mum?” I suddenly asked her.
My voice was almost timid. I had not talked like that since I was eight years old.
“Hmm?” was her queried response, not taking her eyes off the road as I glanced over at her.
“Do you mind if I walk home from school?” I asked, my throat feeling dry as I knew the answer already.
“No, Henry. You know you need adult supervision,” she responded automatically.
There was no hint of anger in her voice but I detected the stern note she most normally used when dealing with me or Dad.
“But, I’m thirteen now. I don’t need adult supervision,” I said, a hint of a whine escaping from my mouth.
“Frankly, Henry, you do,” she had said quite plainly, detecting my whine as a sign of rebellion.
I did not respond, hanging my head down again. She was almost blatantly hinting about the lighter incident. I knew I could not win this point.
We continued for the next few minutes in silence until we stopped outside the school gates. The car sputtered and coughed but settled down to finally stop by the curb.
I got out with my issued satchel and closed the door behind me, not glancing back at my mother. She did not stay. She just gave a smash to the dashboard as the car would not start. It burst into life and with a jump start she was out of here like a bullet out of a gun, leaving a small trail of smoke in its wake.
I glanced up at the large iron gates in front of me. It seemed to mock and scoff at my small stature every day I saw it. The doors were open now but once school started, I knew those gates would close and stay shut until four in the afternoon.
Above the iron barred gate doors was the plaque of our school, the large letters D.C.S embroidered with iron whilst the crest was resting inside the bronzed plaque. The silver-coloured large cross almost looked like a beacon of sorts. It plainly stated, “Yes, we are a religious school”.
Despite this, it was still a co-ed school, mixed with boys and girls of different races. But all the students are of Christian faith. Some just took it more seriously than others.
“Well, if it isn’t Henry Dawson. Gonna burn the school down, ya freak?” asked a conceited drawling voice I knew only too well.
I turned my head sharply in the direction of the voice. Yep, it was Billy Watkins. The smug git was smiling like the cat that got the cream. His friends, Ted and Roger Fairview were guffawing lightly to each other. I glared at the three of them but did not respond. I clenched my hand that held my satchel into a fist as I walked past the gate and the three of them into the school grounds.
(to be continued...)
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SimonW
Well-known member
chapter five, part two
(Chapter 5, Part 2)
It was against D.C.S Policy to strike another student, whatever the reason. Needless to say, that did not stop Tom from being a “trouble-maker”. No matter how many Hickory twigs thrashed him or sermons berated him for his sinful ways of violence and rebellion.
But, despite the jeers following me to my first class as people also kept a wide berth of me as if I was contagious, I know my reputation was hardly getting any better within the school yard. So, even though my short nails had pierced my skin with seething rage at Billy Watkins and his cronies, I knew it could do no good to my community standing to deck him one on the kisser.
That and I did not know what my mother would do once I got home if I got in trouble at school. Most likely the best scenario would be that she’d get drunk out of her mind and collapse on the sofa again. But I did not want to risk it. I had to show them it was not getting to me and continued walking through the Assembly Hall towards my first class of the day.
But I did not get very far. I spotted them just as they saw me. Four older boys of D.C.S. Upper Boys that took their D.C.S attire and religion seriously by the looks of them.
I thought about walking past them but once I saw they acknowledge me walking towards them they seemed to glare at me before starting to break into running steps.
Gulping, I stopped walking as they came at me, their tidy hair getting mildly tussled as they saw me start to back away and then I turned and ran from them. But it was too late. I was yanked back as the foremost of them grabbed a hold of my swaying satchel. Immediately, they were upon me, one of them hitting me squarely in the gut. I doubled over and dropped my satchel. One of them kicked me twice in the face for good measure. The four older boys grabbed my satchel and ran, taking their spoils as spite against me.
I clutched my stomach, having pain where the guy hit me. I was on my knees, my eyes slightly watering from the pain. This was the first time I was in a fight, due to the strict rules of our Community I was not brought up to defend myself. Well, now I felt the desire to leave this terrible town as soon as possible. But I needed to recover first. I let myself fall prone onto the floor, letting time mend me as I rested upon the smooth polished floor of the Assembly Hall.
(to be continued...)
(Chapter 5, Part 2)
It was against D.C.S Policy to strike another student, whatever the reason. Needless to say, that did not stop Tom from being a “trouble-maker”. No matter how many Hickory twigs thrashed him or sermons berated him for his sinful ways of violence and rebellion.
But, despite the jeers following me to my first class as people also kept a wide berth of me as if I was contagious, I know my reputation was hardly getting any better within the school yard. So, even though my short nails had pierced my skin with seething rage at Billy Watkins and his cronies, I knew it could do no good to my community standing to deck him one on the kisser.
That and I did not know what my mother would do once I got home if I got in trouble at school. Most likely the best scenario would be that she’d get drunk out of her mind and collapse on the sofa again. But I did not want to risk it. I had to show them it was not getting to me and continued walking through the Assembly Hall towards my first class of the day.
But I did not get very far. I spotted them just as they saw me. Four older boys of D.C.S. Upper Boys that took their D.C.S attire and religion seriously by the looks of them.
I thought about walking past them but once I saw they acknowledge me walking towards them they seemed to glare at me before starting to break into running steps.
Gulping, I stopped walking as they came at me, their tidy hair getting mildly tussled as they saw me start to back away and then I turned and ran from them. But it was too late. I was yanked back as the foremost of them grabbed a hold of my swaying satchel. Immediately, they were upon me, one of them hitting me squarely in the gut. I doubled over and dropped my satchel. One of them kicked me twice in the face for good measure. The four older boys grabbed my satchel and ran, taking their spoils as spite against me.
I clutched my stomach, having pain where the guy hit me. I was on my knees, my eyes slightly watering from the pain. This was the first time I was in a fight, due to the strict rules of our Community I was not brought up to defend myself. Well, now I felt the desire to leave this terrible town as soon as possible. But I needed to recover first. I let myself fall prone onto the floor, letting time mend me as I rested upon the smooth polished floor of the Assembly Hall.
(to be continued...)
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SimonW
Well-known member
chapter five, part three
Decided to add a new character pov way. Enjoy.
(chapter 5, part 3)
I must have passed out because as soon as I came to, I saw a face above me, a girl’s face. A look was etched upon her face, not one of pity but of concern within her pale blue eyes. It was Jenny.
Jenny gazed at Henry Dawson, her voice caught in her throat as soon as she had found him prone upon the floor of the Assembly Hall. She felt conflicted for a moment, her thoughts dizzy as she considered calling for the school nurse but found herself instead automatically walking over towards him and kneeling by his side.
Jenny had a crush on Henry since the beginning of last year when she heard him sing for the first time in the church choir. She knew his reputation by word of mouth, but she did not believe him to be all that bad as the grown-ups thought. But her father, despite his own faults, would have none of it.
“A girl like you has no need to mess with a boy like Henry Dawson, understand? You are respected in this community. Best to set a good example,” he had said after she tried talking the matter over with him.
Sometimes, Jenny wished her mother was still alive. She would have known what to say whilst saving Jenny embarrassment. It wasn’t as if she was going out with Henry Dawson. Besides, he did not seem interested in her innocent advances that she picked up from seeing Henry’s mother use on that kind Brother David. And the whole conversation she had with Henry about her being sexy did not go over too well either. She had been ready to give him up in her heart until Fate had intervened and brought her feelings out as she saw him helpless in the Assembly Hall.
She had to help him, she could see that now. The school nurse was a gossip like the rest of the school staff. By lunchtime the whole school would know that Henry Dawson had been in a fight in Dunsville Christian School and that would be bad. It would be bad for Henry, bad for his mother and most of all bad for Jenny herself. She did not want to be the cause of more grief for the boy she adored. He already had enough with his reputation as a bad influence and apparently for starting a fire. Jenny felt a bit hesitant towards that, at first not believing that Henry would do such a thing. But upon later reflection she had to admit she had no proof either way and just had to be content with that for the time being.
Jenny saw Henry start to stir as he was coming around, his eyelids fluttering open and watched as he focused his attention to her. A feeling of relief flooded Jenny but she was still concerned for him.
Gulping back the tightness in her throat, Jenny was able to form words once again.
“Are you alright?” she asked him, her voice light in tone as she looked at him starting to rise.
“Y-yeah, I’m fine,” mumbled back Henry, as he raised himself slowly into a sitting position.
(to be continued...)
Decided to add a new character pov way. Enjoy.
(chapter 5, part 3)
I must have passed out because as soon as I came to, I saw a face above me, a girl’s face. A look was etched upon her face, not one of pity but of concern within her pale blue eyes. It was Jenny.
Jenny gazed at Henry Dawson, her voice caught in her throat as soon as she had found him prone upon the floor of the Assembly Hall. She felt conflicted for a moment, her thoughts dizzy as she considered calling for the school nurse but found herself instead automatically walking over towards him and kneeling by his side.
Jenny had a crush on Henry since the beginning of last year when she heard him sing for the first time in the church choir. She knew his reputation by word of mouth, but she did not believe him to be all that bad as the grown-ups thought. But her father, despite his own faults, would have none of it.
“A girl like you has no need to mess with a boy like Henry Dawson, understand? You are respected in this community. Best to set a good example,” he had said after she tried talking the matter over with him.
Sometimes, Jenny wished her mother was still alive. She would have known what to say whilst saving Jenny embarrassment. It wasn’t as if she was going out with Henry Dawson. Besides, he did not seem interested in her innocent advances that she picked up from seeing Henry’s mother use on that kind Brother David. And the whole conversation she had with Henry about her being sexy did not go over too well either. She had been ready to give him up in her heart until Fate had intervened and brought her feelings out as she saw him helpless in the Assembly Hall.
She had to help him, she could see that now. The school nurse was a gossip like the rest of the school staff. By lunchtime the whole school would know that Henry Dawson had been in a fight in Dunsville Christian School and that would be bad. It would be bad for Henry, bad for his mother and most of all bad for Jenny herself. She did not want to be the cause of more grief for the boy she adored. He already had enough with his reputation as a bad influence and apparently for starting a fire. Jenny felt a bit hesitant towards that, at first not believing that Henry would do such a thing. But upon later reflection she had to admit she had no proof either way and just had to be content with that for the time being.
Jenny saw Henry start to stir as he was coming around, his eyelids fluttering open and watched as he focused his attention to her. A feeling of relief flooded Jenny but she was still concerned for him.
Gulping back the tightness in her throat, Jenny was able to form words once again.
“Are you alright?” she asked him, her voice light in tone as she looked at him starting to rise.
“Y-yeah, I’m fine,” mumbled back Henry, as he raised himself slowly into a sitting position.
(to be continued...)
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SimonW
Well-known member
chapter five, part four....
(chapter 5, part 4)
I glanced at him in a way I knew was not right. I could not help myself. It was so nerve-racking being around him. And just as soon as I had put him out of my mind, I stumbled across him. I began blushing after he sat up. His eyes seemed to pass through me as if I was hardly there. He probably felt vulnerable. I know I would be in his position. Henry was having trouble just sitting up but I did not say anything, not wanting to hurt his feelings. But, my heart ached as I watched him. I hated seeing people in pain. I moved as if to help him but stopped as he shook his head stubbornly. I sighed but did as bid, thinking what fools boys were sometimes as they were just so prideful in their egos. My father was no exception to this unwritten rule. He saw me as his little princess that would do no wrong. Believe me, if it was not a moral issue of the community I would abandon this town and live by my own rules. But, as it was, everybody’s expectations of me were so high that my own agendas hardly mattered anymore. The one thing I was concerned with was Henry Dawson. It seemed absurd at the time last year, but he was no longer just a short boy to me but a guy I felt comfortable being honest to. My flesh just tingled whenever I heard him sing in church and his casual hatred of this town just set him apart from the rest, even the black sheep Tom Eccles seemed to go through the motions whilst Henry appeared to lead his own life despite his mother’s over-bearing nature.
“Do you ever wanna just leave this place?” he had spontaneously asked me after a service at Church.
I did not know exactly what to say at the time, especially since Brother David was right behind us as he was escorting people out. I nervously had glanced at my yellow ribboned white dress that I wore before answering Henry.
“I...I guess so, maybe, some day,” I twittered foolishly, glancing up and noticing Henry grinning at me.
I cursed myself for getting flustered but he seemed to just shrug it off as if it was nothing.
“Forget about it, Jenny. We ain’t ever gonna leave this place...even if they let us,” Henry had replied casually but whispered the last part so Brother David could not hear.
I had said nothing to that, feeling a bit foolish to have let it bug me at the time and yet also knowing Henry was right. We lived in a close knight community town. Despite the name, Dunsville is protective of its heritage and deep religious roots.
We had not talked again until the next Sunday and even then it was just small talk because my father and Henry’s mother were accompanying us out.
“Jenny, can ya give me a hand?” Henry suddenly asked me which brought me out of my memories of our times together in Church.
I nodded and demurely got up with care not to wrinkle my school skirt that went down to below my knees. I beheld Henry’s hand as he was reaching up to get himself upright. His hand felt strong but soft. It was a warm feeling that for the moment I could hold within my own hand. It felt nice and as he yanked himself up with hardly much effort I almost thought it was only an excuse for Henry to hold my hand. But after those few seconds, he let go as he winced and held his stomach with his left arm. His right arm pulled up my satchel I had forgotten let fall to the floor upon seeing Henry and running to his aid.
“Oh....thank you,” I said with sincerity as I took my satchel from him. “But, where’s yours?”
I glanced around where Henry had fallen but could not see his bag anywhere.
“The punks that beat me up stole it. But it’s no big deal. Forget about it, Jenny,” Henry had responded hoarsely before smiling grimly at me.
“Forget about it, Jenny,” he had said. Those were the same words he told me a year ago. What a fool I felt then and what a fool I felt now. Henry Dawson lived by his own rules but it was obvious to me now, the way he lived was in his own mind. He somehow had shut out the world and lived the same boring day over and over. I could see it now in his piercing eyes, below that was a dull sense of emotional suffering. And that scared me. It thrilled me. But most of all, it made me love him even more. This boy I loved was not afraid to speak his mind.
(to be continued...)
(chapter 5, part 4)
I glanced at him in a way I knew was not right. I could not help myself. It was so nerve-racking being around him. And just as soon as I had put him out of my mind, I stumbled across him. I began blushing after he sat up. His eyes seemed to pass through me as if I was hardly there. He probably felt vulnerable. I know I would be in his position. Henry was having trouble just sitting up but I did not say anything, not wanting to hurt his feelings. But, my heart ached as I watched him. I hated seeing people in pain. I moved as if to help him but stopped as he shook his head stubbornly. I sighed but did as bid, thinking what fools boys were sometimes as they were just so prideful in their egos. My father was no exception to this unwritten rule. He saw me as his little princess that would do no wrong. Believe me, if it was not a moral issue of the community I would abandon this town and live by my own rules. But, as it was, everybody’s expectations of me were so high that my own agendas hardly mattered anymore. The one thing I was concerned with was Henry Dawson. It seemed absurd at the time last year, but he was no longer just a short boy to me but a guy I felt comfortable being honest to. My flesh just tingled whenever I heard him sing in church and his casual hatred of this town just set him apart from the rest, even the black sheep Tom Eccles seemed to go through the motions whilst Henry appeared to lead his own life despite his mother’s over-bearing nature.
“Do you ever wanna just leave this place?” he had spontaneously asked me after a service at Church.
I did not know exactly what to say at the time, especially since Brother David was right behind us as he was escorting people out. I nervously had glanced at my yellow ribboned white dress that I wore before answering Henry.
“I...I guess so, maybe, some day,” I twittered foolishly, glancing up and noticing Henry grinning at me.
I cursed myself for getting flustered but he seemed to just shrug it off as if it was nothing.
“Forget about it, Jenny. We ain’t ever gonna leave this place...even if they let us,” Henry had replied casually but whispered the last part so Brother David could not hear.
I had said nothing to that, feeling a bit foolish to have let it bug me at the time and yet also knowing Henry was right. We lived in a close knight community town. Despite the name, Dunsville is protective of its heritage and deep religious roots.
We had not talked again until the next Sunday and even then it was just small talk because my father and Henry’s mother were accompanying us out.
“Jenny, can ya give me a hand?” Henry suddenly asked me which brought me out of my memories of our times together in Church.
I nodded and demurely got up with care not to wrinkle my school skirt that went down to below my knees. I beheld Henry’s hand as he was reaching up to get himself upright. His hand felt strong but soft. It was a warm feeling that for the moment I could hold within my own hand. It felt nice and as he yanked himself up with hardly much effort I almost thought it was only an excuse for Henry to hold my hand. But after those few seconds, he let go as he winced and held his stomach with his left arm. His right arm pulled up my satchel I had forgotten let fall to the floor upon seeing Henry and running to his aid.
“Oh....thank you,” I said with sincerity as I took my satchel from him. “But, where’s yours?”
I glanced around where Henry had fallen but could not see his bag anywhere.
“The punks that beat me up stole it. But it’s no big deal. Forget about it, Jenny,” Henry had responded hoarsely before smiling grimly at me.
“Forget about it, Jenny,” he had said. Those were the same words he told me a year ago. What a fool I felt then and what a fool I felt now. Henry Dawson lived by his own rules but it was obvious to me now, the way he lived was in his own mind. He somehow had shut out the world and lived the same boring day over and over. I could see it now in his piercing eyes, below that was a dull sense of emotional suffering. And that scared me. It thrilled me. But most of all, it made me love him even more. This boy I loved was not afraid to speak his mind.
(to be continued...)
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SimonW
Well-known member
Chapter Five, Part Five
(chapter 5, part 5)
I had never felt this way before. It was a weird sensation. I blamed the punch I got to the gut for this feeling. I held my stomach as best as possible after I stood up and handed Jenny back her satchel. I felt a bit insecure as I was standing beside Jenny. Even she was slightly taller than me. It did not help that I was practically in a state of helplessness around her. It also felt weird to me, making me feel like a short idiot.
But I put on a brave face for Jenny’s sake. She was obviously worried about me, which made me also uncomfortable around her.
“Well, listen, I...I gotta go,” I muttered to Jenny with difficulty.
I thought I detected something in her eyes but after a second, she just gazed at me in a calm manner.
“Oh, of course. But, are you sure you’ll be alright?” she asked in a concerned voice.
Yep, I could see it, pity. It was plain on her somewhat pretty face.
“I’ll be fine,” I responded, feeling smothered by her worry about me.
I think she took the hint, she merely nodded and with one last look of sadness in her eyes, Jenny left the Assembly Hall and passed by me, her footsteps receding until I could hear them no longer.
Sighing as best I could without hoping to cause injury to myself, I also left in the opposite direction of Jenny. I needed to get to my first session of the day.
“Now, class, repeat after me: “God is Just. God is Pure. Let no harm come to us nor those we hold dear.” Fifty times in your notebooks, please,” dictated Sister Margaret with precision.
Sister Margaret let her eyes wander around the classroom, her hands clasped entwined upon her desk as her lips set in a grim line. One student was absent, as far as she could recall. Dawson, Henry Dawson.
Sister Margaret had high hopes for the boy. He was not very bright, but not a complete nincompoop either. It appeared his Faith was the only thing lacking. Then again, he could have been worse, like that Eccles child. She was grateful not to be the one in charge of him in her class. Sister Margaret prayed for them both constantly, believing the children of Dunsville were a better solution for the Christian Faith of the town for the future.
A modest believer in Faith, Sister Margaret ruled with fair discipline and sharp order if needed. She never raised her voice in anger nor rapped the knuckles of her students like some of the others of the Staff did. But even then, it was only due to extreme circumstances that such punishment in D.C.S needed to be dished out. Her thoughts had wavered back to the Eccles boy, whom was known from gossip to receive at least ten whacks a week. The man dolling out the punishment was the head teacher of the Staff, Mr. Forbes. There was no detention program in D.C.S, merely whacks with a hickory stick. Fortunately, Sister Margaret had no need to dole out such punishment and preferred not to be as brutish in her punishment. In extreme cases, Heaven forbid she had any, Sister Margaret merely sent them to Mr. Forbes if needed.
Sister Margaret had no qualms with Dunsville Christian School itself. It was the only private School of Dunsville and the most religious.
Turning her thoughts from her station, Sister Margaret snapped back to the present situation as the door of her classroom opened. All eyes from the desks glanced at the figure that opened the door. Sister Margaret nearly gaped in amazement at the sight she saw. The boy in the open doorway barely seemed recognizable if not for his distinguishable features and the fact she knew his face on sight.
“Henry Dawson, you are late!” snapped Sister Margaret with automatic reproach at the uncouth boy.
(to be continued...)
(chapter 5, part 5)
I had never felt this way before. It was a weird sensation. I blamed the punch I got to the gut for this feeling. I held my stomach as best as possible after I stood up and handed Jenny back her satchel. I felt a bit insecure as I was standing beside Jenny. Even she was slightly taller than me. It did not help that I was practically in a state of helplessness around her. It also felt weird to me, making me feel like a short idiot.
But I put on a brave face for Jenny’s sake. She was obviously worried about me, which made me also uncomfortable around her.
“Well, listen, I...I gotta go,” I muttered to Jenny with difficulty.
I thought I detected something in her eyes but after a second, she just gazed at me in a calm manner.
“Oh, of course. But, are you sure you’ll be alright?” she asked in a concerned voice.
Yep, I could see it, pity. It was plain on her somewhat pretty face.
“I’ll be fine,” I responded, feeling smothered by her worry about me.
I think she took the hint, she merely nodded and with one last look of sadness in her eyes, Jenny left the Assembly Hall and passed by me, her footsteps receding until I could hear them no longer.
Sighing as best I could without hoping to cause injury to myself, I also left in the opposite direction of Jenny. I needed to get to my first session of the day.
“Now, class, repeat after me: “God is Just. God is Pure. Let no harm come to us nor those we hold dear.” Fifty times in your notebooks, please,” dictated Sister Margaret with precision.
Sister Margaret let her eyes wander around the classroom, her hands clasped entwined upon her desk as her lips set in a grim line. One student was absent, as far as she could recall. Dawson, Henry Dawson.
Sister Margaret had high hopes for the boy. He was not very bright, but not a complete nincompoop either. It appeared his Faith was the only thing lacking. Then again, he could have been worse, like that Eccles child. She was grateful not to be the one in charge of him in her class. Sister Margaret prayed for them both constantly, believing the children of Dunsville were a better solution for the Christian Faith of the town for the future.
A modest believer in Faith, Sister Margaret ruled with fair discipline and sharp order if needed. She never raised her voice in anger nor rapped the knuckles of her students like some of the others of the Staff did. But even then, it was only due to extreme circumstances that such punishment in D.C.S needed to be dished out. Her thoughts had wavered back to the Eccles boy, whom was known from gossip to receive at least ten whacks a week. The man dolling out the punishment was the head teacher of the Staff, Mr. Forbes. There was no detention program in D.C.S, merely whacks with a hickory stick. Fortunately, Sister Margaret had no need to dole out such punishment and preferred not to be as brutish in her punishment. In extreme cases, Heaven forbid she had any, Sister Margaret merely sent them to Mr. Forbes if needed.
Sister Margaret had no qualms with Dunsville Christian School itself. It was the only private School of Dunsville and the most religious.
Turning her thoughts from her station, Sister Margaret snapped back to the present situation as the door of her classroom opened. All eyes from the desks glanced at the figure that opened the door. Sister Margaret nearly gaped in amazement at the sight she saw. The boy in the open doorway barely seemed recognizable if not for his distinguishable features and the fact she knew his face on sight.
“Henry Dawson, you are late!” snapped Sister Margaret with automatic reproach at the uncouth boy.
(to be continued...)
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SimonW
Well-known member
(chapter 5, part 6)
I had nothing to say to this and even if I did it would have been unwise to respond.
At most, I was glad it was my tardiness and not my appearance and lack of satchel that led Sister Margaret to exclaim.
I mumbled a half notable apology and averted my gaze downward from the look of disappointment upon Sister Margaret’s face. I could feel her disapproving glance and a slightly audible sigh escaped from her lips.
“Take your seat, Henry,” she had ordered as I lifted my head again.
By this time, the rest of my class had gone back to writing in their notebooks as I walked over to the desk in the back of the class that was unoccupied, my desk.
Slumping down onto my hard wooden chair, I hunched over, not daring to look at Sister Margaret. She was one of the only few adults that could still make me feel ashamed, aside from Brother David and my Dad.
Sister Margaret had been slightly taken aback by the boy that had entered her classroom. She was troubled for Henry Dawson but held her reproach as best as possible as he slinked his way towards his desk at the back of the classroom.
Sister Margaret held her eyes level with the rest of the class, to ensure nothing would disturb the calm within her classroom. Feeling at ease she had dealt with the situation properly, Sister Margaret turned before walking over and sitting down at her own desk. She smoothed her nun’s habit with care and took out her own copy of The Bible and read with prayers whispered under her breath with no audible sound.
So engrossed was her reading and silent prayer, Sister Margaret was jolted out of her steady reading by the familiar clang of the school church’s bell to attend mid-morning Mass Assembly. No matter how many times in the days gone by, Sister Margaret was a bundle of jitters whenever that large bell rang.
Standing up demurely, Sister Margaret shut her Bible, putting it carefully upon her desk with fervent are. She brushed the creases from her nun’s dress to regain her composure and waited as the whole class stood up from their chairs after putting away their notebooks back within their satchels.
I stood up with the rest of my classmates, my face set with grim disgust. The automatic morons at this school were sheep, herded to a pasture that led them nowhere. This fact had dawned upon me relatively quickly as I was growing up. I partly blamed the community of Dunsville for my Dad leaving. But then again, I blamed almost everybody who even tried to speak to me after they broke up five years ago. Tom was the exception to this, he seemed to notice the things I was dealing with and knew well enough to leave me alone until I was able to speak to him again. Some said the resentful and hostile nature I exerted was a form of not being able to come to terms about my parents splitting up. But that was all just stupid psycho-talk the school therapist just said to me. I had not visited him since I decked him in one of our sessions, which obviously led to no more visits and another notch of “disappointment” within the Dunsville community. But I stopped caring since I was ten and do not regret my actions, no matter how messed up I was.
(to be continued...)
I had nothing to say to this and even if I did it would have been unwise to respond.
At most, I was glad it was my tardiness and not my appearance and lack of satchel that led Sister Margaret to exclaim.
I mumbled a half notable apology and averted my gaze downward from the look of disappointment upon Sister Margaret’s face. I could feel her disapproving glance and a slightly audible sigh escaped from her lips.
“Take your seat, Henry,” she had ordered as I lifted my head again.
By this time, the rest of my class had gone back to writing in their notebooks as I walked over to the desk in the back of the class that was unoccupied, my desk.
Slumping down onto my hard wooden chair, I hunched over, not daring to look at Sister Margaret. She was one of the only few adults that could still make me feel ashamed, aside from Brother David and my Dad.
Sister Margaret had been slightly taken aback by the boy that had entered her classroom. She was troubled for Henry Dawson but held her reproach as best as possible as he slinked his way towards his desk at the back of the classroom.
Sister Margaret held her eyes level with the rest of the class, to ensure nothing would disturb the calm within her classroom. Feeling at ease she had dealt with the situation properly, Sister Margaret turned before walking over and sitting down at her own desk. She smoothed her nun’s habit with care and took out her own copy of The Bible and read with prayers whispered under her breath with no audible sound.
So engrossed was her reading and silent prayer, Sister Margaret was jolted out of her steady reading by the familiar clang of the school church’s bell to attend mid-morning Mass Assembly. No matter how many times in the days gone by, Sister Margaret was a bundle of jitters whenever that large bell rang.
Standing up demurely, Sister Margaret shut her Bible, putting it carefully upon her desk with fervent are. She brushed the creases from her nun’s dress to regain her composure and waited as the whole class stood up from their chairs after putting away their notebooks back within their satchels.
I stood up with the rest of my classmates, my face set with grim disgust. The automatic morons at this school were sheep, herded to a pasture that led them nowhere. This fact had dawned upon me relatively quickly as I was growing up. I partly blamed the community of Dunsville for my Dad leaving. But then again, I blamed almost everybody who even tried to speak to me after they broke up five years ago. Tom was the exception to this, he seemed to notice the things I was dealing with and knew well enough to leave me alone until I was able to speak to him again. Some said the resentful and hostile nature I exerted was a form of not being able to come to terms about my parents splitting up. But that was all just stupid psycho-talk the school therapist just said to me. I had not visited him since I decked him in one of our sessions, which obviously led to no more visits and another notch of “disappointment” within the Dunsville community. But I stopped caring since I was ten and do not regret my actions, no matter how messed up I was.
(to be continued...)
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SimonW
Well-known member
(chapter 5, part 7)
The students of Sister Margaret’s class filed out in a sensible fashion, the Class Representatives present and leading the way in an orderly manner. They led in a silent two-by-two motif akin to Noah leading the animals aboard the Ark.
Sister Margaret watched as her class went out the door until only the solitary Henry Dawson remained, always the odd one out every day. Sister Margaret bade the boy to come with a slight nod of her head, not making eye contact with him as he shuffled past her out of the classroom. Demurely and sighing inwardly with relief that the boy had some common sense, Sister Margaret left her empty classroom, shutting the door behind her and turned to the assembled students in the hallway of her class. By now, most of the other teachers and students had already left and were making their way towards the Main Assembly Block building. With another curt nod from Sister Margaret, her students started shuffling down the hallway like the young flock she loved dearly.
Sister Margaret’s class was the last to arrive into the Assembly Hall, the other teachers and students sitting in the simple wooden chairs provided that faced the stage podium.
Still marching single file, the students of Sister Margaret’s class made their way towards the empty seats and sat down. Henry Dawson sighted his friend Tom Eccles and gave him a slight upward nod of the head as he bypassed him. Tom acknowledged this with the same sign before Henry was out of line of sight of him and Henry sat down with the other students and Sister Margaret.
Nary a sound was heard nor uttered as the focus was drawn towards the podium stage, the prominent coat of arms of the school upon the back wall, the figurehead of the cross a sign of holiness.
The man up on the podium was solemn-looking and as silent as the rest, possibly even more so if that was possible. His dark blue suit contrasted the red velvet backdrop of the stage’s curtains, his beady yet calculating eyes surveying the room filled with Staff Members and students. Principal Stanley Stokes seemed slightly unsettled in his manner today, though he did not know the reason why. He was a tall man of lean build and yet he seemed somewhat slumped as he stood at the podium. His hawk-like nose twitching slightly from a stressful muscle spasm, intent to drive away the demon of doubt that lingered within his sharp mind.
“Today,” he heard himself say in his curt but sharply nasal tone. “We thank God for all he has given us. We simply pray that He will put a stop to things unjust.”
A slight murmur of confusion was heard from around the Assembly Hall. This was not the usual mid-morning mass that Principal Stokes usually provided.
Principal Stokes was a patient man, he merely waited until the mutterings died down and all was quiet once again.
“It has come to my attention that a certain individual has been bullied on Dunsville Christian School Grounds. This will NOT be accepted,” stated Principal Stokes with conviction, his eyes piercing out over the hushed crowd of students and teachers in front of him.
It was obvious to Stanley Stokes that the silence was only due to the anticipation of the news. He himself detested gossip but acknowledged that it did indeed create a certain appealing effect upon the student body that was listening with rapt attention to his every word.
“Henry Dawson, please come up here at once,” said Principal Stokes with strict disfavour etched on his face as well as in his voice.
(to be continued...)
The students of Sister Margaret’s class filed out in a sensible fashion, the Class Representatives present and leading the way in an orderly manner. They led in a silent two-by-two motif akin to Noah leading the animals aboard the Ark.
Sister Margaret watched as her class went out the door until only the solitary Henry Dawson remained, always the odd one out every day. Sister Margaret bade the boy to come with a slight nod of her head, not making eye contact with him as he shuffled past her out of the classroom. Demurely and sighing inwardly with relief that the boy had some common sense, Sister Margaret left her empty classroom, shutting the door behind her and turned to the assembled students in the hallway of her class. By now, most of the other teachers and students had already left and were making their way towards the Main Assembly Block building. With another curt nod from Sister Margaret, her students started shuffling down the hallway like the young flock she loved dearly.
Sister Margaret’s class was the last to arrive into the Assembly Hall, the other teachers and students sitting in the simple wooden chairs provided that faced the stage podium.
Still marching single file, the students of Sister Margaret’s class made their way towards the empty seats and sat down. Henry Dawson sighted his friend Tom Eccles and gave him a slight upward nod of the head as he bypassed him. Tom acknowledged this with the same sign before Henry was out of line of sight of him and Henry sat down with the other students and Sister Margaret.
Nary a sound was heard nor uttered as the focus was drawn towards the podium stage, the prominent coat of arms of the school upon the back wall, the figurehead of the cross a sign of holiness.
The man up on the podium was solemn-looking and as silent as the rest, possibly even more so if that was possible. His dark blue suit contrasted the red velvet backdrop of the stage’s curtains, his beady yet calculating eyes surveying the room filled with Staff Members and students. Principal Stanley Stokes seemed slightly unsettled in his manner today, though he did not know the reason why. He was a tall man of lean build and yet he seemed somewhat slumped as he stood at the podium. His hawk-like nose twitching slightly from a stressful muscle spasm, intent to drive away the demon of doubt that lingered within his sharp mind.
“Today,” he heard himself say in his curt but sharply nasal tone. “We thank God for all he has given us. We simply pray that He will put a stop to things unjust.”
A slight murmur of confusion was heard from around the Assembly Hall. This was not the usual mid-morning mass that Principal Stokes usually provided.
Principal Stokes was a patient man, he merely waited until the mutterings died down and all was quiet once again.
“It has come to my attention that a certain individual has been bullied on Dunsville Christian School Grounds. This will NOT be accepted,” stated Principal Stokes with conviction, his eyes piercing out over the hushed crowd of students and teachers in front of him.
It was obvious to Stanley Stokes that the silence was only due to the anticipation of the news. He himself detested gossip but acknowledged that it did indeed create a certain appealing effect upon the student body that was listening with rapt attention to his every word.
“Henry Dawson, please come up here at once,” said Principal Stokes with strict disfavour etched on his face as well as in his voice.
(to be continued...)
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SimonW
Well-known member
(chapter 5, part 8 )
It seemed like all eyes were turned to me as I stood up slowly. I had a feeling of nausea in my stomach and took a large gulp to get the feeling from my throat.
I tried to calm my nerves, unconsciously walking forward towards the large podium stage in front of me, the sounds of only my shoes echoing within the Assembly Hall.
I managed to have a quick glance at Jenny’s face as I passed by her section. She appeared to glance down with a guilt-written look as I passed by.
I focused upon the large stage ahead of me. It reached over my own head, the podium making Principal Stokes tallness even more unbearable as I had to crane my neck upwards just to look at his sullen and grim-ashen face. I felt so small that at any moment I imagined he could reach down with his bony hand and squash me flat like an insect. I suddenly noticed I was breathing heavily and I tried to not dwell on things of that nature. No doubt the worst was yet to come and would be more gruesome than what I thought of in my own mind.
It was a mere twenty seconds for me to reach the front of the podium but to me it seemed like an Eternity.
“Do you deny these accusations, Dawson?” inquired Principal Stokes, his face not changing despite his more even tone.
“No, Sir,” I replied rather hesitantly, having no choice but to tell the truth.
It was my only course of action. For my own face would betray me because of the bruises upon it. It was pointless to lie, though probably not for the best. It was no doubt my mum would hear of this and that was what really scared me.
“Did you start this assault?” asked Principal Stokes, his voice back with the edge to it of caution.
I looked him in the eyes as best I could, anger starting to swell up inside of me. The adults always blamed either me, Tom, or the both of us for the troubles of the “youth”, no matter if it was true or not.
“No, Sir,” I said as curtly as I could, trying to curb my anger as his piercing gaze swept over me.
A few seconds passed between me and Principal Stokes. It was unsettling me further as I watched those beady eyes stare right into my own eyes until Principal Stokes broad shoulders seemed to sag with a barely audible sigh escaping his lips.
“Dismissed, Dawson. Back to your seat,” was what he said after a minute of silence, letting go of his gaze upon me as he swept his eyes in front of him onto the podium stand.
At first, I did not believe what Principal Stokes had just said. I did not expect the questioning to end just like that. Nor, I gathered, did the rest of the school assembled behind me in their chairs. A renewed murmuring of confusion swept among those gathered in the Assembly Hall. I said nothing more, merely turned and walked back to my seat as instructed by Principal Stokes. I ignored the mutterings and looks that I had gotten as I made my way back to my seat. I know for a fact I did nothing against the school policy and I suspected Principal Stokes knew he had nothing so had to admit himself at a loss and let me go without punishment. D.C.S may be a strict school, but at least it was a Just one too.
(to be continued...)
It seemed like all eyes were turned to me as I stood up slowly. I had a feeling of nausea in my stomach and took a large gulp to get the feeling from my throat.
I tried to calm my nerves, unconsciously walking forward towards the large podium stage in front of me, the sounds of only my shoes echoing within the Assembly Hall.
I managed to have a quick glance at Jenny’s face as I passed by her section. She appeared to glance down with a guilt-written look as I passed by.
I focused upon the large stage ahead of me. It reached over my own head, the podium making Principal Stokes tallness even more unbearable as I had to crane my neck upwards just to look at his sullen and grim-ashen face. I felt so small that at any moment I imagined he could reach down with his bony hand and squash me flat like an insect. I suddenly noticed I was breathing heavily and I tried to not dwell on things of that nature. No doubt the worst was yet to come and would be more gruesome than what I thought of in my own mind.
It was a mere twenty seconds for me to reach the front of the podium but to me it seemed like an Eternity.
“Do you deny these accusations, Dawson?” inquired Principal Stokes, his face not changing despite his more even tone.
“No, Sir,” I replied rather hesitantly, having no choice but to tell the truth.
It was my only course of action. For my own face would betray me because of the bruises upon it. It was pointless to lie, though probably not for the best. It was no doubt my mum would hear of this and that was what really scared me.
“Did you start this assault?” asked Principal Stokes, his voice back with the edge to it of caution.
I looked him in the eyes as best I could, anger starting to swell up inside of me. The adults always blamed either me, Tom, or the both of us for the troubles of the “youth”, no matter if it was true or not.
“No, Sir,” I said as curtly as I could, trying to curb my anger as his piercing gaze swept over me.
A few seconds passed between me and Principal Stokes. It was unsettling me further as I watched those beady eyes stare right into my own eyes until Principal Stokes broad shoulders seemed to sag with a barely audible sigh escaping his lips.
“Dismissed, Dawson. Back to your seat,” was what he said after a minute of silence, letting go of his gaze upon me as he swept his eyes in front of him onto the podium stand.
At first, I did not believe what Principal Stokes had just said. I did not expect the questioning to end just like that. Nor, I gathered, did the rest of the school assembled behind me in their chairs. A renewed murmuring of confusion swept among those gathered in the Assembly Hall. I said nothing more, merely turned and walked back to my seat as instructed by Principal Stokes. I ignored the mutterings and looks that I had gotten as I made my way back to my seat. I know for a fact I did nothing against the school policy and I suspected Principal Stokes knew he had nothing so had to admit himself at a loss and let me go without punishment. D.C.S may be a strict school, but at least it was a Just one too.
(to be continued...)
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SimonW
Well-known member
Yes, one could FEEL the predicament Henry was under.
Well, I do not abide children getting killed. lol. I know what you meant.
Tension is a great asset to Principal Stokes, as he can control it freely unless swayed to let it go with, as we saw, a mere shrug of his shoulders and a sigh.
But yes, it was a close one for Henry. But it may be only the battle he has won, as I am sure his mother would be less forgiving of his "skirmish".
SimonW
Well-known member
(chapter 5, part 9 )
“Well, that was a lucky break, mate,” said Tom to me at lunchtime.
We were in a shaded back area of the schoolyard, Tom having a quick cig break away from the prying eyes of Staff or Upperclass students.
I did not reply to him, merely watching Tom as he expertly inhaled the smoke in a quick puff and exhale it after a second of savouring the smoke within his mouth.
I never really got what the big deal was about smoking. And I dared not to ask any adult about it. Tom only described it as being a lifesaver for his escape from the daily hum-drum life of Dunsville. I tried it once a year ago, but promptly coughed and Tom laughed but he understood and said at least I tried it at least once. None of the other kids even talked to him when he suggested having a “puff at Old Lucifer” as he put it.
After getting no response from me, Tom just nodded his head slightly.
“Wonder what your ma is gonna say?” he inquired and scratched his chin with his free hand as if contemplating his own question.
“More likely she will rant and rave how alike my Dad I am and tan my hide,” I said, fully convinced what I said was likely to be true.
But I left out what I knew would be her screaming at me before getting passed out drunk as usual.
Mum in a drunken rampage I can handle. But when she sobers up, no doubt I would pray to God before the night was through.
I felt a bit saddened by my own judgement of my mother. I could not find any reason why I was so harsh upon her. Maybe it was because after Dad left she was able to be more strict towards me because he was not there. I knew she wanted me to be a decent child and son, which I was for the most part of my childhood. I felt the sense of growing up so confusing at times and just wanted to stop for a brief pause so I could catch my breath. But as I looked over at Tom and his goofy grin in response to what I thought my mother might do, I knew then and there that it was a time gone and passed, slipped through my fingers like smoke in the wind.
“Well, good luck to ya, Henry Dawson. Glad I ain’t you today,” responded Tom with a sarcastic grin on his face.
I could not help but smile slightly, allowing my thoughts to drift from these horrible thoughts in my mind as Tom’s sarcasm swept me back to good humour in that instant.
“So, I noticed you getting on well with Jenny the other day,” Tom suddenly announced, his stupid grin still plastered upon his face as he parted his lips to take another puff on his cigarette.
I felt myself get slightly embarrassed and could tell Tom knew I was.
“She’s...okay,” I replied as casually as I could sitting upon the bench Tom had his legs upon, his usual sitting position sitting on top of the wooden table the bench was connected to.
Tom puffed out the smoke from his mouth in my general direction, making me cough lightly from the smoke fumes. It was obvious he was dubious about my response.
“Mate, there ain’t no use denying she’s a fine-looking girl, that’s for certain,” Tom stated, almost half in thought to himself.
“Gee, ya think so?” I asked him, getting over my slight coughing fit yet felt my cheeks turn red.
“Yeah, but she ain’t my type anyways,” Tom said, lightly flicking the ash from his cigarette onto the pavement below him.
I knew Tom, he is my best friend. But we hardly ever talked about girls unless we knew no adults or Christian folk were around to give us a good verbal beat down.
“So, what is your type, Tom?” I asked him, though knew I was just making polite conversation since I already knew.
But, that type of thing never stopped Tom Eccles from speaking his own mind anyway.
“The kind of girl I’d like? Easy. A girl not scared of anything, a girl with curves that would make an hourglass blush. The type of girl that is mature for her age yet knows not to talk back to me. The long-legged and soft as shade of blue in her eyes ya ever seen, mate. A real looker and yet the devoted type that would not mind me lighting her cigs as she brings me a beer. That type of gal I can call me own and nothing stands in the way of our time together. That and a girl with a decent rack,” finished Tom, whom had probably since the age of ten had been thinking specifically the qualities he looks for in a girl to call his own.
In a way, Tom almost sounded decently poetic as he was describing his dream girl, but usually ended on something crude just to escape from his personal fantasy world as he knew I was listening in.
“So, how about you Henry? Any girl ya got yer eye upon?” Tom suddenly asked me, glancing straight at me that I had to turn my face away slightly as I knew my face probably looked red.
“N...no, not really...” I started saying but found myself unable to speak as I looked up and saw Jenny was walking across right towards Tom and I
I felt my heart racing, my eyes seemed glued towards the figure of Jenny coming towards us that I blocked all sounds except my own heartbeat.
It wasn't long before Jenny came up towards our table and bench. She seemed to ignore Tom as he continued smoking from his position upon the table.
“Oh, hey there Jenny. Henry here was just talking about you,” Tom said, still smirking as I managed to get out of my daze I was in and paid attention to what he just said.
(to be continued...)
“Well, that was a lucky break, mate,” said Tom to me at lunchtime.
We were in a shaded back area of the schoolyard, Tom having a quick cig break away from the prying eyes of Staff or Upperclass students.
I did not reply to him, merely watching Tom as he expertly inhaled the smoke in a quick puff and exhale it after a second of savouring the smoke within his mouth.
I never really got what the big deal was about smoking. And I dared not to ask any adult about it. Tom only described it as being a lifesaver for his escape from the daily hum-drum life of Dunsville. I tried it once a year ago, but promptly coughed and Tom laughed but he understood and said at least I tried it at least once. None of the other kids even talked to him when he suggested having a “puff at Old Lucifer” as he put it.
After getting no response from me, Tom just nodded his head slightly.
“Wonder what your ma is gonna say?” he inquired and scratched his chin with his free hand as if contemplating his own question.
“More likely she will rant and rave how alike my Dad I am and tan my hide,” I said, fully convinced what I said was likely to be true.
But I left out what I knew would be her screaming at me before getting passed out drunk as usual.
Mum in a drunken rampage I can handle. But when she sobers up, no doubt I would pray to God before the night was through.
I felt a bit saddened by my own judgement of my mother. I could not find any reason why I was so harsh upon her. Maybe it was because after Dad left she was able to be more strict towards me because he was not there. I knew she wanted me to be a decent child and son, which I was for the most part of my childhood. I felt the sense of growing up so confusing at times and just wanted to stop for a brief pause so I could catch my breath. But as I looked over at Tom and his goofy grin in response to what I thought my mother might do, I knew then and there that it was a time gone and passed, slipped through my fingers like smoke in the wind.
“Well, good luck to ya, Henry Dawson. Glad I ain’t you today,” responded Tom with a sarcastic grin on his face.
I could not help but smile slightly, allowing my thoughts to drift from these horrible thoughts in my mind as Tom’s sarcasm swept me back to good humour in that instant.
“So, I noticed you getting on well with Jenny the other day,” Tom suddenly announced, his stupid grin still plastered upon his face as he parted his lips to take another puff on his cigarette.
I felt myself get slightly embarrassed and could tell Tom knew I was.
“She’s...okay,” I replied as casually as I could sitting upon the bench Tom had his legs upon, his usual sitting position sitting on top of the wooden table the bench was connected to.
Tom puffed out the smoke from his mouth in my general direction, making me cough lightly from the smoke fumes. It was obvious he was dubious about my response.
“Mate, there ain’t no use denying she’s a fine-looking girl, that’s for certain,” Tom stated, almost half in thought to himself.
“Gee, ya think so?” I asked him, getting over my slight coughing fit yet felt my cheeks turn red.
“Yeah, but she ain’t my type anyways,” Tom said, lightly flicking the ash from his cigarette onto the pavement below him.
I knew Tom, he is my best friend. But we hardly ever talked about girls unless we knew no adults or Christian folk were around to give us a good verbal beat down.
“So, what is your type, Tom?” I asked him, though knew I was just making polite conversation since I already knew.
But, that type of thing never stopped Tom Eccles from speaking his own mind anyway.
“The kind of girl I’d like? Easy. A girl not scared of anything, a girl with curves that would make an hourglass blush. The type of girl that is mature for her age yet knows not to talk back to me. The long-legged and soft as shade of blue in her eyes ya ever seen, mate. A real looker and yet the devoted type that would not mind me lighting her cigs as she brings me a beer. That type of gal I can call me own and nothing stands in the way of our time together. That and a girl with a decent rack,” finished Tom, whom had probably since the age of ten had been thinking specifically the qualities he looks for in a girl to call his own.
In a way, Tom almost sounded decently poetic as he was describing his dream girl, but usually ended on something crude just to escape from his personal fantasy world as he knew I was listening in.
“So, how about you Henry? Any girl ya got yer eye upon?” Tom suddenly asked me, glancing straight at me that I had to turn my face away slightly as I knew my face probably looked red.
“N...no, not really...” I started saying but found myself unable to speak as I looked up and saw Jenny was walking across right towards Tom and I
I felt my heart racing, my eyes seemed glued towards the figure of Jenny coming towards us that I blocked all sounds except my own heartbeat.
It wasn't long before Jenny came up towards our table and bench. She seemed to ignore Tom as he continued smoking from his position upon the table.
“Oh, hey there Jenny. Henry here was just talking about you,” Tom said, still smirking as I managed to get out of my daze I was in and paid attention to what he just said.
(to be continued...)
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SimonW
Well-known member
End of Chapter 5...
(chapter 5, last part...)
I silently cursed him inwardly and felt my face flush as I stood up from the bench and my attention was drawn back to Jenny looking somewhat uncertain at Tom’s brashness.
“I just came to apologize, for I told Principal Stokes about how you were bullied, Henry,” Jenny said, attempting to brush away Tom’s statement about me as she glanced down as if ashamed at herself.
I suspected as much, but it still made me ticked off that Jenny had done something like that.
“Why’d you do it, Jenny? Let me guess, it’s because of the rules, right?” I said in a mocking tone, almost bitter at my resentment towards the school and town.
Surprisingly, Jenny did not react as I expected. She balled up her fists, as if about to cry then suddenly she glanced up at me with a teary-eyed face before I noticed her swing her right fist to the side of my face. It happened so fast I was knocked to the ground before I had a chance to react.
“That’s the last time I help you with anything, Henry!” I heard Jenny snap at me before she turned and ran away, leaving me on the ground with a befuddled look upon my face as I held my left cheek with my left hand.
Tom seemed not to notice, merely shaking his head as he took another puff of his cig, as if knowing something I had yet to figure out. It made me pissed off to see his condescending knowing look.
“What are you looking at??” I asked in a relatively pissed off tone, which granted, was warranted at the time.
“Nothing, mate. Just a whole lotta nothing,” he merely replied, glancing away from me as he let the smoke billow out from his mouth once more in a sigh. “Just my best friend getting decked by a girl is all.”
The rest of my school day was a blur, a mix of emotions and classes as I merely contemplated what had happened over Lunch. It was not long before the final church bell rang that meant school was over for the day. I was bumped into multiple times but did not have the heart nor energy to mutter an apology or get upset.
I trudged past the foreboding iron gates, certain I’d see them again tomorrow if my mother would not kill me by the time we got home. I was a dead boy walking, my fate certain as I saw the look in my mother’s eyes at my disheveled clothes and slightly battered face.
The ride home was an eerily silent one once again, like the one after the lighter incident. I had resigned myself to my fate already, it just did not matter as we pulled into our driveway and my mum had gotten out of the car with every movement like erupting thunder to my ears.
“Henry, out of the car,” she said in a stern voice, her quivering lower lip seeming to hold back her barely containable rage.
I did not say anything, there was no point anymore. I merely got out as she instructed and walked over to the front door, opening it with uneasy ease. I felt my mother shove me inside from behind as she also entered, shutting our front door behind her afterwards with a slam.
End Of Chapter 5.
(to be continued....)
(chapter 5, last part...)
I silently cursed him inwardly and felt my face flush as I stood up from the bench and my attention was drawn back to Jenny looking somewhat uncertain at Tom’s brashness.
“I just came to apologize, for I told Principal Stokes about how you were bullied, Henry,” Jenny said, attempting to brush away Tom’s statement about me as she glanced down as if ashamed at herself.
I suspected as much, but it still made me ticked off that Jenny had done something like that.
“Why’d you do it, Jenny? Let me guess, it’s because of the rules, right?” I said in a mocking tone, almost bitter at my resentment towards the school and town.
Surprisingly, Jenny did not react as I expected. She balled up her fists, as if about to cry then suddenly she glanced up at me with a teary-eyed face before I noticed her swing her right fist to the side of my face. It happened so fast I was knocked to the ground before I had a chance to react.
“That’s the last time I help you with anything, Henry!” I heard Jenny snap at me before she turned and ran away, leaving me on the ground with a befuddled look upon my face as I held my left cheek with my left hand.
Tom seemed not to notice, merely shaking his head as he took another puff of his cig, as if knowing something I had yet to figure out. It made me pissed off to see his condescending knowing look.
“What are you looking at??” I asked in a relatively pissed off tone, which granted, was warranted at the time.
“Nothing, mate. Just a whole lotta nothing,” he merely replied, glancing away from me as he let the smoke billow out from his mouth once more in a sigh. “Just my best friend getting decked by a girl is all.”
The rest of my school day was a blur, a mix of emotions and classes as I merely contemplated what had happened over Lunch. It was not long before the final church bell rang that meant school was over for the day. I was bumped into multiple times but did not have the heart nor energy to mutter an apology or get upset.
I trudged past the foreboding iron gates, certain I’d see them again tomorrow if my mother would not kill me by the time we got home. I was a dead boy walking, my fate certain as I saw the look in my mother’s eyes at my disheveled clothes and slightly battered face.
The ride home was an eerily silent one once again, like the one after the lighter incident. I had resigned myself to my fate already, it just did not matter as we pulled into our driveway and my mum had gotten out of the car with every movement like erupting thunder to my ears.
“Henry, out of the car,” she said in a stern voice, her quivering lower lip seeming to hold back her barely containable rage.
I did not say anything, there was no point anymore. I merely got out as she instructed and walked over to the front door, opening it with uneasy ease. I felt my mother shove me inside from behind as she also entered, shutting our front door behind her afterwards with a slam.
End Of Chapter 5.
(to be continued....)
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SimonW
Well-known member
Chapter 6, part 1
Warning/Note: I do not approve of child abuse. Just want people to know that under bad circumstances these things happen, unfortunately.
(Chapter 6, Part 1...)
Chapter 6: The Solace Place
I decided not to cause a fuss when my mum was angry at me. I merely went through the motions as at first she berated me and got herself in a fit that made her slouch onto the couch before grabbing the bottle of wine she “secretly misplaced”. It did not take her long to get drunk on the wine, an even more unhappy fate awaiting me as at first she began to cry pitifully then lash out with her acidic tongue at me before backhanding me a few times across my face, possibly imagining I was Dad. I did not react at this, having been used to it from the odd occasion when my mother was drunk. But even I could barely hold back my own tears as the tirade of blows were over as soon as they began and my mum told me to go up to my room to think over what I had done. I cradled my sore arm to me when one of her haphazard and drunken blows had hit me on the left arm. I knew the swelling of a bruise would soon form upon my arm but I exited as quickly as I could from the situation and walked up the steps slowly to my room. I made it up the stairs eventually.
I entered my bedroom, wincing slightly as I began taking off my school uniform and changed into a more casual long-sleeved shirt and jeans to hide my bruised arm and shame. I glanced into my mirror and noticed I still clung my bruised arm to my side in a cradling motion. I forced myself to slowly move it away from my body, my tears overflowing from my eyelids and brushing down my also bruised cheeks. I found myself sobbing in slight intakes of breath from the pain I felt but tried to pull through it. I needed to toughen up, that much was obvious. I also needed to be taller, my mind racing that my insecurity of my height was stemmed from my own inability to stand up for myself because I was so small for my age. I inwardly cursed myself for being such a weakling, even to my own mother. I balled up my fists as tears of pain turned to tears of rage at being so useless the way I am. But, I did nothing.
I just let out a slight sighing whimper as I slowly turned from my mirror and sat upon my bed. My fists slowly unclenched as I felt my rage subside back into accepting myself as I am and overcome with a self-doubt that caught in my throat as an inescapable yell that I could not nor dare not utter.
I lightly brushed away my tears carefully with the sleeve of my right arm, not dwelling upon the pain from my red cheeks from where my mum had backhanded me. I had to be strong. I could not mope in my room forever. It was just suffocating being in here. I slowly stood up and then exited my room, making my way downstairs. I could hear the drunken sobbing of my mum from the living room. I paid it no heed. Mum was accustomed to fits of crying regularly whilst drunk. I left the house via the front door as quietly as I could, knowing it would not be long before mum passed out into a drunken stupor upon the couch. I grabbed my bike that was sitting lop-sided on our front lawn and started riding it as fast as I was able to. I ignored the slight throbbing pain from my left arm and dull ache upon my still red face as the wind whipped around me. There was one place I had to be, one place in Dunsville that always made me forget about my problems. A place only Tom and I knew about. We called it The Solace Place.
(to be continued...)
Warning/Note: I do not approve of child abuse. Just want people to know that under bad circumstances these things happen, unfortunately.
(Chapter 6, Part 1...)
Chapter 6: The Solace Place
I decided not to cause a fuss when my mum was angry at me. I merely went through the motions as at first she berated me and got herself in a fit that made her slouch onto the couch before grabbing the bottle of wine she “secretly misplaced”. It did not take her long to get drunk on the wine, an even more unhappy fate awaiting me as at first she began to cry pitifully then lash out with her acidic tongue at me before backhanding me a few times across my face, possibly imagining I was Dad. I did not react at this, having been used to it from the odd occasion when my mother was drunk. But even I could barely hold back my own tears as the tirade of blows were over as soon as they began and my mum told me to go up to my room to think over what I had done. I cradled my sore arm to me when one of her haphazard and drunken blows had hit me on the left arm. I knew the swelling of a bruise would soon form upon my arm but I exited as quickly as I could from the situation and walked up the steps slowly to my room. I made it up the stairs eventually.
I entered my bedroom, wincing slightly as I began taking off my school uniform and changed into a more casual long-sleeved shirt and jeans to hide my bruised arm and shame. I glanced into my mirror and noticed I still clung my bruised arm to my side in a cradling motion. I forced myself to slowly move it away from my body, my tears overflowing from my eyelids and brushing down my also bruised cheeks. I found myself sobbing in slight intakes of breath from the pain I felt but tried to pull through it. I needed to toughen up, that much was obvious. I also needed to be taller, my mind racing that my insecurity of my height was stemmed from my own inability to stand up for myself because I was so small for my age. I inwardly cursed myself for being such a weakling, even to my own mother. I balled up my fists as tears of pain turned to tears of rage at being so useless the way I am. But, I did nothing.
I just let out a slight sighing whimper as I slowly turned from my mirror and sat upon my bed. My fists slowly unclenched as I felt my rage subside back into accepting myself as I am and overcome with a self-doubt that caught in my throat as an inescapable yell that I could not nor dare not utter.
I lightly brushed away my tears carefully with the sleeve of my right arm, not dwelling upon the pain from my red cheeks from where my mum had backhanded me. I had to be strong. I could not mope in my room forever. It was just suffocating being in here. I slowly stood up and then exited my room, making my way downstairs. I could hear the drunken sobbing of my mum from the living room. I paid it no heed. Mum was accustomed to fits of crying regularly whilst drunk. I left the house via the front door as quietly as I could, knowing it would not be long before mum passed out into a drunken stupor upon the couch. I grabbed my bike that was sitting lop-sided on our front lawn and started riding it as fast as I was able to. I ignored the slight throbbing pain from my left arm and dull ache upon my still red face as the wind whipped around me. There was one place I had to be, one place in Dunsville that always made me forget about my problems. A place only Tom and I knew about. We called it The Solace Place.
(to be continued...)
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