THE EXCITING JOURNEY OF Writing
a Fictional Book
"IT'S A LUXURY BEING A WRITER, BECAUSE ALL YOU EVER THINK ABOUT IS LIFE."
"IT'S A LUXURY BEING A WRITER, BECAUSE ALL YOU EVER THINK ABOUT IS LIFE."
Early next morning George stood in a narrow vacant lot across the street from Locke's Ford. In his right hand, a pillowcase full of rocks. Still seething from the events three days ago, he stood, holding an average size rock and glared at the showroom windows. There were nine large panes of glass, but at this distance, George distrusted his throwing skill.
He turned around and hurled the stone with as much strength as he could muster, but it scarcely reached midway to the back fence. George realized it would be essential to stand in the center of Hollywood Boulevard, but with morning traffic bustling in both directions he had doubts about his plan of revenge.
A black and white police car drove past with two policemen who paid no attention to the boy with the rock-filled pillowcase. If they had, they would have questioned him. George envisioned both he and his father on their hands and knees picking up thousands of fragments of glass. Worse, Sam and David Locke were standing over them laughing.
He poured out the rocks and concluded his plan was foolish, "What am I thinking," he mumbled. Disgusted with himself he biked towards school. Pedaling down the street, he recognized Charlie the young frail boy from school walking at a brisk pace. The boy did not see George, he was looking at the ground, but George could see Charlie's right hand clutching something in his coat pocket.
"Hey Charlie," said George approaching.
Charlie avoiding eye contact said, "Hi."
George stopped his bike but Charlie kept moving hurriedly away.
"Hey Charlie, it's George, remember me?"
Charlie stopped, "I know it's you George I don't have time."
"Time for what, where are you going?"
"To school, I have to get there first."
"Why, what's at school and what's that in your pocket?"
"Nothing, leave me alone."
Sensing something wrong, he pedaled and blocked the younger boy's path.
"Get out of my way George"
"Why are you angry, what's wrong?"
"Nothing, I said get out of my way," but George did not move.
"Why do you have to be at school first?"
"I have to be there before Sam Locke. I'm going to kill him."
Hearing Charlie's words George thought how foolish he must have sounded the last several days. His gaze followed the boy's right arm.
"What's in your pocket, let me see."
"Nothing, leave me alone I don't want to hurt you."
"Why would you hurt me? I thought we were friends, remember?"
"I don't have friends George, I don't like anybody, and nobody likes me. Get out of my way."
George felt he was listening to a younger self as Charlie kept staring at the ground.
"Let me see what's in your pocket."
George carefully slipped his hand into Charlie's pocket. Feeling cold metal, he quickly withdrew. His eyes darted around to see if any passersby were paying attention to the two of them. He despised nosy people. Feeling ashamed, Charlie put up no struggle as George reached into his pocket again. He felt the butt of a pistol and withdrew his hand. He pushed Charlie into the entrance of a vacant storefront.
"Charlie, what are you doing with a gun? Whose gun is it?"
"It's my father's, and I'm going to kill Sam."
"Stop talking like that. I want to kill Sam too, but I don't want to go to jail."
Removing the gun from Charlie's jacket George held the weapon in his hand. He had never held a gun before. He felt strong and powerful. Straightening his stance, George closed his eyes and envisioned himself walking up to Sam Locke and pulling the trigger.
"If something bad were to happen to Sam Locke it would be because of him," he thought. He felt invincible. When George opened his eyes, Charlie stared at him nodding his head as though sharing George's thoughts.
He pictured himself pulling the trigger, watching the bullet enter Sam's forehead. Sam would fall in slow motion and he would stand back. He would lean against the lockers and observe other students talking and going about their business. Occasionally somebody would kick the carcass and laugh; just liked they kicked his books. Everything turned dark. George saw himself led away in handcuffs, spending the rest of his life in jail with people he disliked. He knew the gun was a chess piece, but did not understand what to do with it.
"Charlie, I'll hold onto this until after school then we'll take it back to your house and put it back where it belongs."
"What about Sam Locke."
"We'll come up with a plan."
"I just remembered we can't take it back today. My mom's picking me up, I have a dentist appointment. We'll put it back tomorrow."
While in his classes, George's hand brushed against the gun in his pocket. A surge of energy coursed through his body and he wanted to stand up and shout. No one was going to bother him including Sam Locke.
Biking briskly towards home, George remembered Angelina, how she laughed at him and made fun of him. He decided she would never laugh at him again; he would make certain.George laid his bike on the front lawn of the plain looking apartment building and stepped up to the door, his hand in his right pocket. His fingers folded securely around the butt of the gun. It was not clear to George what he would do when she answered, but knew Angelina would be sorry.
Tapping on the door George took two steps backward and waited. He knocked again, stronger this time, but still no response. He peered through the front window to see if Angelina was inside and heard muted noises around the side of the building. No one was there. About to knock a third time George heard voices again. Angelina screamed.
Hurrying to the rear of the apartment house George saw Angelina with a tall boy. The older teenage boy had his body pressed up and pinned against the young girl. She struggled attempting to push the boy away but he was too strong. One hand was forcefully over Angelina's mouth while the other attempted to raise up her skirt.
"Quiet bitch, you know this is what you want. Vinnie said you liked it and that you were easy. Stop pushing."
The boy, taller and several years older outweighed George by at least fifty pounds. George had never seen him before. The attacker continued pressing his body against Angelina's, kissing her to stifle her cries as she fought back. Her eyes wide with disbelief saw George standing there. She tried screaming, pushing back, but the older boy's large body stymied her attempt. She would have given in to save George from witnessing what was going to happen. Angelina prayed he would leave.
George picked up a metal cover from a nearby trashcan and slammed it across the back of the teenager's skull causing the boy to release Angelina. The teenager glared wildly at the younger boy. His nostrils flaring as he rubbed the back of his head.
"What the fuck. I don't know who you are kid, but I'm going to kill you."
He struggled to seize George but Angelina grabbed him holding him back.
"That's right George, run," said the angry teenager.
George ran as the older boy pushed Angelina away. The boy's long arm reached out and caught hold of George's jacket pulling him backward. He swung George around causing him to fall against the wall bumping his head. Lunging forward the larger boy abruptly stopped short. George, standing his ground, pointed the gun directly at the older boy's face.
"Wait kid, don't shoot. I don't want trouble."
George advanced the revolver steady in his hand as the teenager retreated. He glared into the boy's eyes and saw fear, which only strengthened him.
In a calm angry tone, George said, "If you ever show up here again, or tell anybody about this, you'll be dead. Do you hear me?"
"Yeah, okay just don't shoot. I won't say anything."
Angelina added, "I'm going to tell my uncle about you and Vinnie."
"Don't tell him, please, I won't say anything I promise."
The teenager pleaded with Angelina not to tell Roy Capelli while George pointed the gun. He ran away leaving George and Angelina standing in the backyard and after they were sure the boy left, George put the gun back into his pocket. Angelina tried to hug him but he pushed her away.
"Don't do that, I don't like that. I don't want you to laugh at me."
"George, I'm not going to laugh at you. You saved me from that fuck."
"You did George, thank you."
Angelina stopped, "Why do you have a gun?"
She held her breath when she realized George was not there by chance.
"George, were you going to— kill me?"
“Why are you here? What were you going to do?"
"I was going to scare you and make you swear never to laugh at me again, and not touch me."
"I'm sorry George, I just thought—"
"Stop, I didn't like kissing, or what you did and I don't like you laughing at me."
He put his hand in his pocket.
"Stop George you're right. I was wrong, I'm sorry. Please don't hurt me," she said tears in her eyes.
"Don't cry I wouldn't hurt you. Just don't laugh at me."
Feeling weak Angelina said, "Can we sit down."
They sat quietly on the back stairs for twenty minutes before either spoke.
"I hate the Locke's, Sam and his father."
George repeated his story with Sam, but included the part about the dealership his father and David Locke.
"Then I saw you, and you did," his voice trailing off.
"Oh George, I'm so sorry I didn't know. Let me help make it up to you."
"How can you help me?"
"My uncle can help."
"Who's your uncle?"
"Roy Capelli," she replied proudly.
"He's not a gangster he's a businessman people are afraid of."
"What can he do?"
"Well for one, I heard my uncle talking to one of his partners. They were arguing about a gun."
"What about a gun?"
"He told the guy to file down the serial numbers, so it can't be traced. I'll show you, let me see your gun."
At first George hesitated, then pulled the weapon out of his pocket and gave it to Angelina. This was not the first time Angelina held a gun in her hand. It was a .38 caliber Smith and Wesson revolver. Flipping open the gun's cylinder she snickered then stopped.
"I'm sorry George," she said smiling. "It's just there are no bullets in the gun, see."
"What? What are you saying?"
"Look for yourself."
George stared at the five empty chambers and shook his head in disbelief, "Damn it Charlie."
"I don't know who Charlie is, but George what were you thinking?"
The two looked at each other and smiled, but George could not help himself, and laughed as well. It was infectious, and soon Angelina was laughing. Each time Angelina pointed at the empty cylinder, they laughed more.
"Do you think we could get a gun from your uncle, one of those without a serial number?"
Angelina's demeanor changed, "Are you kidding?"
"I can't just walk up to my uncle and say, do you have an extra gun I could have, one without serial numbers."
"Because that's not how it's done George."
He got lost in his own private world for a few moments and Angelina saw George's disappointment. "Let me see what I can do, okay?"
As the sun set it was time for George to leave.
"I know you said not to George, but can I hug you for saving me, please.
Glancing away nervously, "Nothing else."
She wrapped her arms around George, but not too tight and whispered, "Thanks."
He tried not to, but he gave Angelina a modest grin, and walked back to the front yard. Retrieving his bike and walking it back home, he realized his plan was visibly clearer.
#chilling story,#suspenseful and compelling,#psychological thriller,#The Mouse That Became The Cat