1. Rain
My dad is always wrong. It’s some kind of uncanny ability of his, I swear. I’ve learned in my fifteen years of life to take the advice he gives me, and then reverse it. Things have always seemed to turn out okay by that method. Well, maybe not always, but close enough.
I really ought to have seen the warning signs when he had me take my youngest brother on a puddle-splashing outing, but I didn’t. That was unfortunate for me. Very unfortunate.
“It’s raining,” he declared one dreary Saturday afternoon. Duh. Of course it was raining. We lived in Washington (the state, of course). It always rains in Washington state.
“Yep,” I replied, not taking my eyes off the TV screen, on which Batman was fighting Mr. Freeze and his penguin mind-slaves. In a house full of men (well, a dad and six younger brothers), that’s pretty much all that was on. Batman. I’d grown to like it, though.
Dad made an impatient-sounding noise in the back of his throat. “Gail, Chris wants to go splash in the puddles. I’m busy with work, so I need you to make sure he doesn’t get hurt or run over or—”
“No,” I interrupted. There was no way I was going to stand out in the rain watching my little brother. Why couldn’t he ask one of his brothers to do it instead? Christopher was honestly a mystery to me. Dad said it was a “special bond” between the two of us. I said it was a severe annoyance.
“Aw, c’mon, sweetie,” Dad continued. “It’ll be fun. What’s the harm in playing in the rain? Who knows, you might even enjoy it.”
There were three problems with this statement. First, my dad had just used a term of endearment. I hate terms of endearment. They’re so fake and mushy and… ick. Dad always seems to forget to avoid calling me names like “dear,” or “sweetie.”
Second, there was plenty of harm in playing in the rain, sloshing through yucky brownish-black puddles in plastic boots. Who knew what was growing in that filth, what kind of diseases you could get from all that concentrated pollution? Of course, at the time I didn’t know the full implications of the harmful properties of puddles. You think that’s funny? Wait till I’m done. You won’t look at a puddle the same way ever again.
Thirdly, no, there was no chance of me enjoying a little playtime in the rain. I hated rain. I still do. It’s wet and drab, and we got far too much of it without having to play in it.
If I had the incredible ability to travel backwards in time, I would go back to this moment and I would have stood by my decision to remain inside. But then, to seal the deal, Christopher came in all his adorable four-year-old glory, wearing his pint-sized galoshes and a green raincoat that was more than a little too long for him. Then, to double seal the deal, he made big puppy eyes, the kind you know he’d probably practiced in the mirror about a million times to perfect. That was it.
“Fine,” I growled as I heaved myself up off the couch. “I’ll go out into the bitter cold and get soaked to the bone, all for the sake of my beloved younger brother.”
I snatched my raincoat from the closet, stomped my way into my galoshes, and crammed my hat onto my head. There we were, resplendent in neon yellow and green, Christopher with a wide grin on his face, me with a bitter scowl. Dad echoed Christopher’s smile.
“You kids have fun,” he said as he ushered the two of us out into the deluge.
“Yeah, right,” was my response, and then the front door closed and we were left in the rain.
My brother wasted no time. He immediately jumped off the top of our steps to land in a puddle large enough to send a sheet of disgusting brown water in my direction, instantly soaking both of us. We’d only been out in the rain four minutes, and I was ready to go back inside. Like I had that choice. Dad would’ve sent us straight back out.
“Christopher!” I cried. “Don’t splash me like that!” He’d probably done it on purpose, too, the little snot.
Wait. You weren’t under the impression that Christopher was a nice kid, were you? He’s not. Let me tell you now. Christopher is the epitome of air-freshener sweetness—he uses the sickly sweet scent of four-year-old adorableness to hide his truly malicious nature underneath. Don’t believe me? Just wait.
Maybe I’m overreacting, but I’ve never seen behavior like his in a child his age. It’s freaky.
Anyways.
I’d gone out to splash in puddles—or rather, watch Christopher do the latter while I did my best to remain dry—many times before. Yet today I had a strange sense of foreboding, a feeling that something was going to go horribly wrong. I couldn’t explain it, which is why Christopher smartly replied “No” when I suggested that we go back to the house. Twerp.
Isn’t it typical, though, that at the start of a story the main character knows something is about to go wrong? Call me cliché, but that’s exactly how it happened.
And then it happened.
“Gail, I’m stuck,” Christopher called, the edge of panic apparent in his voice.
I glanced up, having come out of my bitter reverie, and saw Christopher struggling to pull his foot out of, I assumed, the storm drain. “Just take your shoe off,” I told him calmly. “We can buy you a new one.”
“Gail!” He was definitely panicking now. “I can’t! My whole leg’s sunk down, and I can’t pull it out!”
As I watched, he slowly began to sink into the depths of the puddle. I mean, how deep can a puddle get? Seriously! Now I was beginning to panic, too. I dashed to his side and began pulling frantically at his arm, trying to pull him out of the puddle. To my surprise, it was extremely difficult to make any headway. Actually, I didn’t make any at all.
At last, The puddle won, and we both toppled over into it. I expected to hit asphalt, but I instead fell.
And fell.
And fell.
And fell…'
2. Dark Portal
I fell forever. And when I say forever, I mean forever. I screamed my guts out for a minute or two before I realized that I was still falling, and I wasn’t going to splat into a greasy smear anytime soon. This comforting thought prompted a few more minutes of shrieking.
Eventually I stopped panicking and "enjoyed" the ride. The surprising thing was, it wasn’t wet. I mean, you'd expect the inside of a puddle to be all watery and stuff, but it wasn't. It was just dark and a little bit cold. That was no comfort, either. The chill of the dark hole, or whatever it was I was falling through, seeped deep into my bones. My plastic raincoat provided no warmth, and I quickly regretted not having taken a sweatshirt or something with me when Christopher and I had gone outside. But hey, how was I supposed to know that I’d get eaten by a puddle?
Hey, wait. Where was Christopher? He’d fallen in the puddle, too, hadn’t he? Yes, he’d pulled me in with him. In any other circumstances I would’ve been angry, but now I was a little concerned.
“Christopher?” I called out into the darkness.
Nothing.
I called again. “Christopher?”
Silence.
Now I was starting to panic again. I was sick of this falling, sick of this darkness, sick of the—what was that? Great, now I was going crazy. I could’ve sworn I had seen something through the gloom…
There it was again! A flash of yellow, faint, but definitely there. It was gone as soon as I’d seen it, which again caused me to wonder if I was just hallucinating. That would probably make sense, given the situation.
After what felt like hours of hearing nothing but the whistling of the wind as I fell, I picked up a low, whirring noise, just barely audible. Creepy. It sounded sort of like a helicopter, but at the same time it wasn’t. What would a helicopter be doing in an endless pit like this, anyways? As I listened, it came closer, becoming louder and louder until it was almost too loud to bear.
A scream pierced the air, somehow drowning out the noise of the helicopter-thing. “Gail! Help!” It was none other than Christopher. Surprise.
“Where are you?” I yelled over the din. No response. Nothing but the incessant whirring of that stupid helicopter. I probably was crazy, after all. I looked about, trying to find Christopher, until I remembered that I was in a dark tunnel-thing and there wasn’t any light, obviously. Therefore, I wouldn’t be able to see him anyways. I was surprised, however, to see a faint, yellowish glow, far above me. A way out? The end of the fall, maybe? Heaven? Could’ve been anything. I was so relieved to be able to see something, anything, however, that it didn’t exactly occur to me that I was still falling down, and the light was above me, yet it grew closer and closer, until…
For the record, it was really scary.
About 5 feet above me was an enormous, glowing yellow wasp, its six spindly legs wrapped tight around Christopher’s body. One of these legs acted as a gag, preventing him from screaming. Had I not been screaming my head off, I probably would’ve thought that was gross. He was kicking and struggling, but the monstrous insect held fast, hovering right above me, the sound from its wings deafening. But its enormity wasn’t the worst part, oh, no. It was the awful, scythe-like stinger, poised to strike.
Great. So if I wasn’t going to go ker-splat at the bottom of this pit, I was going to get run through by a giant bug. I hated my life. I wasn’t about to go down without a good fight, though. I spread-eagled my arms against the wind like I had seen skydivers do on TV as we continued to fall until I drew even with the wasp-thing. Its bulbous, muti-faceted eyes stared at me, which was really creepy. I kicked out with a leg and made contact with one of those eyes, probably the most sensitive part of the whole bug. It screeched and let go of Christopher, who immediately joined in the cacophony. We all three screamed, until the wasp whirred away, clutching its eye in pain, its glow receding in the darkness, the whirring of its wings fading into blissful silence.
I floated over to my poor little brother and held him tightly in my arms, the wind whistling as we fell in the blackness. He had darn well better have been grateful for that rescue. For the moment, we just kind of made whimpering noises and hugged each other. Christopher cried. So did I. That’s what you do when you’ve just been attacked by a giant glowing wasp.
Until this point, I’d had the sense not to look down. Something, however, prompted me to see if anything was below us. A similar something prompted me to continue the scream-fest.
Lights. There were lights below us, the kind you see in cities. We were going to hit the ground.
I squeezed my eyes shut and waited for my death. What a way to go...
3. Half-Light
Have you ever had a dream where you’re falling without a parachute, and then you wake up right before you hit the ground? I hate those, because you don’t know it’s a dream until you wake up screaming in your bed at three in the morning.
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This 87 word review has not been unlocked.
I really enjoyed this. You have a talent and your use of humor in this is well placed and not over the top. I initially read Half-Light before reading this part but this seems much more put together if I recall.
The descriptions are terrific. You use great ones instead of just stating actions to us. i.e. – stomped my way into my galoshes
“They’re so fake and mushy and… ick.” – I like this line. Not sure why. Most people don’t hate terms of endearment and it is interesting that she does.
Also, they way you turn and address the reader in this story – I have mixed feelings about it. It works some places and not so much in other places.
The character’s voice is very strong – I can feel that is the way she really talks. I wasn’t even sure the main character was a girl until she mentioned her brothers and her father said her name.
The ending was nice. But it also felt like a cop out – it was pretty good and than you say it is a dream. That was disappointing.
This was great fun.
If you are really under 18, and continue to be passionate about writing, I would risk placing a large amount of money on your success in being published in the future.
Here are a few suggestions, the bulk of them quite minor;
(far too much of it without having to play in it.) – nothing major, but an ‘as well’ at the end makes this easier to read I think.
(the kind you know he’d probably practiced in the mirror about a million times to perfect.) – always a possibility with an adult, but would a four year old really do that? I haven’t had much contact with that age group so I could be wrong.
( and began pulling frantically at his arm, trying to pull him out of the puddle) – you could cut from ‘trying to pull him out of the puddle’
( I could’ve sworn I had seen something) and (It was gone as soon as I’d seen it,) – although your wording is grammatically correct only the most pedantic of readers will shoot you down for using ‘I saw’ instead. It’s used in everyday language, so why not? The story is told from the first person POV of a young girl. I reckon she’d say ‘I saw’.
(just barely audible.) – ‘just’ and ‘barely’ do the same job here. But then referring to what I said above, maybe this is how the character speaks.
(It was none other than Christopher. Surprise.) – Here, if you gave this sentence a paragraph of its own, or even just shortened it to ‘It was Christopher’, or, ‘I recognised Christopher’s voice immediately’ you wouldn’t need ‘Surprise’. Even my suggestion is classic telling instead of showing, which we’re all guilty of from time to time. Maybe something like ‘a shot of panic ran through me’.
Brilliant job, zero spelling mistakes from what I could see and nigh-perfect grammar.
Good start. It’s funny and there’s a lot of action. I like your writing style and chapter lenghts. This reads smoothly. I kind of wish we got to meet more of the family. The scifi mystery is awesome so far. I can’t really predict where this is going. I would read more and sorry for the lack of negativity.
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