Quicklinks:
|
Great Writing - Home > Extended > English Slacker chapter twenty-one
| READING ROOM | ||||
|---|---|---|---|---|
|
| COMMUNITY | |||
|---|---|---|---|
|
| ABOUT GREAT WRITING | ||
|---|---|---|
|
| WORK AWAITING REVIEW |
|---|
|
| GW IS... |
|---|
|
Great Writing creative writing community is designed to prompt ideas
and provide inspiration and motivation within aspiring and amateur
authors. Whatever your topic; from love poetry to Doctor Who or Harry
Potter fan fiction, Great Writing's online writing group is where you
can make new friends and improve your creative writing. |
| WHO'S ONLINE |
|---|
| We have 1212 guests online and 1 member online |
Extended Work
| print friendly version | |
| English Slacker chapter twenty-one | |
| By chrismorton | ||||
| 15 June 2008 | ||||
|
I’d finished my dinner and watched a bit of TV and now I was on my bed listening to some Planquez with all the lights turned off. It was the first album: the good one. The one where they’re basically ripping off The Pins but it doesn’t matter ‘cause it’s well decent. I was lying there feeling pretty relaxed but it was the last song (Trees of England – the heaviest and longest track) and I knew as it got closer to finishing that it was time to make a decision as to what to do with my night. That is, whether to put on another CD or actually do something. I felt like going out again. My mum was on the phone in her bedroom to someone and had been for ages and the TV was free and that but I’d been watching TV all morning and I just couldn’t be arsed with any more; at least in my own house. When the CD finished it was suddenly totally silent: There I was, just lying there in the darkness: Completely alone. I remember saying (to myself), “Time for a plan,” before I rolled off the bed onto the carpet. It was around eight o’clock and I guessed that Duncan would probably be in and I reckoned that the idea of getting caned for the rest of the night seemed like the perfect way to finish off my day. So I put on my Patterson hoody and flares and whacked on my brown jacket ‘cause it was still raining a bit (although not as much) and also put ten quid in my pocket just in case, and grabbed my walkman off my desk. I shouted, “I’m going out!” to my mum as I passed her bedroom but there was no reply as I went down the stairs. I took my shoes and then I was out the door, into the night. I made my way down my road in the rain, buttoning up my jacket and putting my hood up as I went towards the junction for the second time that day. (Yeah, I remember that as I saw High Lanes coming into view I started wondering if Colin would be there again but decided that it was unlikely.) I got to Duncan’s five minutes later and banged on the door, hoping he wouldn’t take too long to answer. The rain was sort of at that stage where it’s difficult to tell if it’s gonna get worse or just stop suddenly. But it wasn’t the rain that was pissing me off. It was the wind, which had picked up a treat. I’d been waiting for quite a while and had shouted through the letterbox a hell of a lot of times before I noticed the bit of paper stuck to the door. It said:
COLIN AND I HAVE GONE TO LONDON
BACK NEXT WEEK And then underneath, in smaller and more scribbled writing was written:
CHAMBERS WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU!!!!????
I’LL BE AT THE TRAIN STATION. The first thing I thought was like, “What the fuck?” But then after a couple of minutes I remembered Duncan saying something about how he’d had, “The day off on Wednesday,” and, “Did you fancy coming over?” I couldn’t remember anything about London though; nothing at all. I stood there on the doorstep wondering what to do next and rolled a fag. My thinking was that the note had probably been written hours before but that there was always the possibility that Duncan had just left. So I was then left with the fact that I really didn’t wanna go to London. I mean, yeah, I could imagine Duncan saying, “Come on, it’s London!” and in some ways he did have a point but I couldn’t help thinking that there was no way in hell, like I felt really strongly that there was no way at all that I was gonna wake up in London the next morning. So I had to make a decision: Go to the train station and risk seeing Duncan or go home and feel like I’d done nothing with my night. I looked at my watch: It said, eight ten. That gave me thirty minutes before the last train out of Bracksea. I remember thinking, (and actually said out loud too), “If I see the last train leave, at least I can tell Duncan that I tried.”
Only registered users can rate and write comments. Powered by AkoComment 2.0! |
||||
Next item
|
|---|