I just stood there. I couldn’t move. Not that I didn’t want to, I couldn’t. My feet felt as though they were melting into the cement, as if the concrete were in cahoots with my aggressor. My lip was already bleeding from the first punch he’d thrown, my mouth assaulted with the taste of warm metal. I had deserved the punch. I deserved this assault. I wasn’t going to fight back. I still wanted to run, it’s only normal to want to preserve ones self.
His boots resounded as he stormed down the hall. I was only five feet away, five feet that felt at once like five miles and five inches. My head was starting to spin. This wasn’t going to end well.
I could hear them screaming around me, as if in slow motion. Time was stopping just for this moment. Pan, don’t. He didn’t mean it. Pan, stop! They could try to convince him otherwise as much as they liked, but the solid truth remained. I did mean it. I meant every word. I said it once, and I’d say it again. I’d scream it over and over. I would always mean what I had said at that moment. And I had known I would get this kind of response. I was ready.
I braced a little for the impact. He was running straight for me now. His blue eyes blazing a hatred I didn’t know he could possess. I was going to die here. He was going to snuff my life.
And then he hit, hard. I fell back into some abandoned lockers, their rusted doors clattering in my ears. The world became a field of stars and fireworks. Then another crash. And again. He kept slamming me into the lockers. I felt as though my breath were being suctioned from my chest. I could feel my world slipping. I tried desperately to listen, to hear where he was, my eyes clinched tight in fear and pain. I could hear nothing, nothing but the sound of blood rushing past and around my ears. I felt ill.
I tried to fight back a little, his shoulder crushing my chest repeatedly. I couldn’t breathe. I needed to get away. I needed to get out. I didn’t want to fight, I wanted to live!
I pushed. I reached my hands out against the solid black of his shirt and I pushed. He stumbled back a little and I slid to the cold ground. The concrete felt good against my aching back, but I knew I couldn’t stay on the floor. I needed to get up. Maybe I could run. If I could just get up.
Rolling onto my stomach, I tried to steady myself on my hands. I couldn’t focus. The ground swirled and rocked in my vision. I couldn’t see, I couldn’t even focus on the ground before me. Everything swirled and whirled, I tried to focus. I desperately wanted to focus my eyes, to focus my ears. Nothing.
And then he came back, his efforts redoubled. My ribs screamed out in agony as his boot connected. I rolled to my side, I couldn’t keep from coughing, choking on my spit and blood, trying to regain my senses. Another boot connected with my stomach. I rolled on to my stomach and tried not to vomit. I rolled back onto my stomach, once more trying to prop myself up, spewing blood and spittle onto the floor. I started to cry, screaming out in pain and terror. Tears, sweat, blood, and fear all streaming down my face, mixing on the ground as if some sickly soup.
“Take it back.” He’d stopped his assault and stood above me panting and shaking with fatigue and anger. I couldn’t hear him. I couldn’t see. Everything started to get dark, the fireworks and stars clouding my vision. I turned my head toward, staring but not seeing.
“Take it BACK!” He cried as another boot found my ribs. I felt, rather than heard, a small pop and prayed nothing was actually broken. I tried to suck in breath, but the smell of old leather and gore kicked once again at that reflex to reintroduce myself to my eaten lunch.
I made to say something, I made to move. I was desperate to do anything just as long as it would stop this madness. I began to rethink, did I mean it? Did I mean what I said? Yes. Yes I did.
I tried to pick myself up on my hands again, but my elbows refused to comply. I slipped back to the ground a beaten puddle of goo. “No,” I coughed. “No. I won’t. I meant it. I meant every damn wo-“ I was cut off by another crack to the ribs. This time my head slammed into a locker and I felt my world become a cold. Another kick, another lash to the head – this time I hit a hinge. I could feel my temple starting to bleed. It trickled down my cheek, making small splats next to my hand, on my hand, sticking to my arm and sleeve, the canary of my polo becoming a sickly red brown.
My world shifted again. This time was no kick to the side, but not a welcome experience none the less. I was lifted into the air, lifted to my feet, shaking as they were, and pressed bodily against the dented lockers. I kept my eyes closed, not out of fear, but to keep the blood out of my eyes and to avoid acknowledging that the world was spinning around me. I could feel him lean close, so close I could feel his breath on my skin. It was a warm scent, not foul, not sweet, but there and warm. I held my own breath. What was going to happen? What would he do? But, most of all, would the death come swiftly? Or would I suffer?
“Then I won’t regret this.” And then I heard it, my nose snapped. I didn’t feel a thing, but I hear the crack and felt the blood gush out my nose as my world became dark and slack. Before I felt myself fully slip away I decided to remind them all of lunch – and I left it on his shirt.
My name is Christopher. Christopher Robin. I assure you, my life hasn’t always been this barrage of hatred and pain. No, this life started five months ago – when I first transferred to Reedto University. That’s right. Reedto U.
Like any normal college transfer, I merely assumed college would prep me for life beyond the Hundred Acre Wood. What I didn’t know, what I could never imagine, was the truths I would uncover in my short time here. Truths I wasn’t exactly ready to learn, let alone accept.
It all started one blustery day, a rather blustery Wednesday, if I remember correctly. I was feeling slightly under whelmed as I stared up at the university’s brick façade. Most classes had already started, so the campus was relatively quite. A few students occupied the benches in front of the cafeteria, which looked more like a pre-1900’s dance hall rather than a place to grab a bite to eat.
I had toured the campus earlier in the month, and knew – for the most part – where I was supposed to be headed. I simply chose to stand and stare.
I was under whelmed. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, but this certainly wasn’t it.
Sighing, I trudged forward. I wouldn’t hit classes today; I had too much to do. My furniture and belongs had been delivered to my dorm long before I’d gotten up this morning. I was one of the lucky ones, they had assured me, I was able to have my own dorm. To myself.
School had already started here, and most students would already be two weeks through the fall semester – providing it started relatively the same time as 100 Acre Academy. My father had found a better job in a bigger city and picked up shop with mom and moved. I, rather enjoying the free room and board, decided to move with them.
That didn’t stay that way. I don’t remember how, really, but I had acquired a scholarship to Reedto U, the only provision – I had to live on campus. Everything was free – food, board, classes, books – as long as I keep my grades up and my course load full. That wouldn’t be hard. I like free.
The campus was growing dark, the sun starting to set behind the trees that lines the campus. It felt intensely later than the six in the evening it was and I was growing more and more exhausted as I continued to head toward the dorms.
Mine was situated at the last row of dormitories and nestled at the top of the stairs of a seven story brownstone. The building was old enough to have scoffed at the newfangled idea of moving carts and insisted stairs would be the wave of the future. I made a note to start a petition for elevators as I rounded out the fifth floor.
The seventh floor. No wonder it was vacant. No wonder it was free. I finally made it to the seventh floor and staggered to my dorm. It had to be at the end of the hall, which I would have bet money on was adding extra feet and extra rooms. It was taunting me, I could feel it. And then I met my dorm, forehead first.
Fumbling, I sought the key from the front pocket of my jeans. The dark denim didn’t relent any key. Neither did the other front pocket, nor the two back pockets.
Frustrated, I let my messenger bag flop to the hardwood floor. My bag spewed forth pencils, pens in every color – no, really, red, green, blue, every color – and, finally, thankfully, gloriously, my brass dorm key. I grabbed for it, but missed, my vision blurring with fatigue. Finally it founds its way to my to my wanting fingers.
Leaning against the cold of the door, I thrust the key in and gave it a turn. It opened smoothly, and I nearly found myself face-to… well… floor with my new home. My furnishings were already displayed and put up and out of the way. My bed was made and inviting, Pooh Bear sitting prominently in the middle of the pillows.
“Father must have sent some of the help to get me settled in.” I kicked the bag into the room, not bothering to pick up the writing implements. I had plenty, more than I needed really. If they were still there in the morning I would pack them back into my bag. Right now, I needed sleep. Locking the door behind me, I stumbled into the room. Not slipping over my throw rug I plowed head first into a pillow and pulled my kicks off by the heels, not using my hands.
Sock footed and fully clothed I reached for the light switch, not remembering if I turned the lights on or if I found them that way, and flicked out the lumination. It wasn’t even seven o’clock yet.
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Nice start. The beginning assured the reader would keep interest as you establish setting and the protagonist. It was also well-written; you could see the blood and feel the strikes. You do need to go back a proofread, however—I noticed a few typos. Also, you repeat the word “focus” too many times, and do the same thing with “under whelmed.” You only need to say it once. All in all, it was an interesting beginning which probably serves the rest of the story well.
Hi, I am very familiar with Winnie the pooh and friends, but confess that I was bit surprised to see someone expounding on C. Robin’s life as he grew up and out of the Hundred Acre Wood of his childhood fantasy’s…I almost did not take this story seriously…but strangely, I could not stop reading…I wanted to know what he said to earn such a beating.
Very very well written and an excellently unfolded story line. I’m very impressed with what you are doing, especially in the context of the time constraint.
You create very vivid mental imagery and develop Christopher Robin’s character quite nicely with the narrative. Though, the mental imagery pretty much seemed to be of the landscape in Chris’ head and less about the physical world in which Chris was existing. Primarily because you reveal that world through Chris’ internal dialogue. It works effectively, however…the narrative voice being your character’s voice and not ethereal presence of the writer.
Some dialogue would have been nice, but I suspect it’s coming up in future chapters.
I felt at times that you didn’t provide a lot of detail about the world outside of Chris’ head, but that was forgiveable because I found that the generic, stock photo imagery of my imagination worked fine for filling in the blank spots such as the school in which Pan assaults Chris. You describe rusty lockers, I’m left filling in the smell, the sounds, the background scenery of students, etc…
I hestiate to give you feedback about structure and grammar, because although it could be improved, under the time contraint considerations, I think it would be a waste of your time, though I’m not real sure how much time you’ve spent so far getting this part to this level of polish.
The kinds of things I mean are actually quite small, and thus probably not your time. For example, you have this two word sentence: “And again.”...where you are describing Pan knocking Chris into the lockers repeatedly. It’s weak to start the sentence with ‘and’. You could end the preceding sentence with a comma and ‘and again.’ Or, you could have the next sentence be the one word ‘Again.’ It would be more effective. Also, little typos, such as “Finally it founds its…” talking about the key and opening the door…s/b ‘found’.
There are a few of those loose nuts in need of wratcheting throughout the piece, the kind of things you catch when you have time to distance yourself from a piece and do a re-read…which I don’t think you have that time.
If you are going to make time to do that kind of editing, I’d ask the Urbis crowd to act as copy editors in my reviewer notes so that your feedback would be pointed and most useful.
Though, again, how much editing time are you really going to have if you are trying to hammer out even a roughly polished novel in 30 days? I’m thinking not much editing is going to happen beyond what we see here.
And even if that’s the case…very very very nice job. Your word choice is sublime…the alliteration of concrete in cahoots, the word play of the assault of blood on the lips and the physical assault…it’s those kinds of small details that really make this a pleasure to read, a heady experience beyond the mere story…a word junkies pleasure read. The whole Winnie the Pooh play and the Reedto U is pretty witty as well. Makes me think you attend or attended Reed College in Portland…random association.
I give you 10s in both your objective and the overall score. Because I’m so damn impressed.
Most enjoyable, I was completly blindsided by the introduction of the Christopher Robbin after the initial onslaught of violence and the nod to the ‘blustery day’ was nicely done too.
This looks to be the beginings of an original well written piece and I wish you all the best with it.
This is two disjointed scenes, so it should be two separate chapters. The opening sequence was interesting and left lots of questions. The second sequence was introductory and slower paced. I won’t get into the devil of details because this is part of a competition, so all I’ll say is it looks pretty good for a draft right now. You can clean it up later. Well done. Nice story developing here. Interesting anyways.
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