Love, Fudge, and Fireworks Ch: 1

Love, Fudge, and Fireworks Ch: 1

A Chapter by CompellingComposer

  Okay, I will admit that I’m not the brightest person in the world. Even a complete moron wouldn’t sit on train tracks in the middle of the night to look at the stars, but for some reason I just didn’t care. At that moment, it seemed okay. At that moment, my mother and Greg, my step father, my sisters, my friends, my home, everything was just gone. All evaporated into the air like morning dew in the afternoon. The sky was a navy blue, deep like the sea, and the stars millions of tiny flecks of light bursting through. I got chills and shivered in my thin jacket, taking deep breaths so I could see the steamy fog escape my mouth.

          “Like a dragon,” I whispered. “Roar,” I said, unenthusiastically.

          I tapped my short, rough fingernails on the steel tracks, curling up in a ball between the dull, parallel lines. I examined my nails, awful looking from my habit of chewing on them. Noticing my sleeve starting to slip down my arm, I pulled it back up, careful when I got to the wrist. I kept quiet, curious if I would ever hear the chugging of a train ring in my ears. Would I move, or would I stay? To this day I still will never know. I stretched my arms and legs out, looking up at the tops of the trees.

          Silence is a rare thing, but then I swore I had found it. I closed my eyes, enjoying the sound of nothing. Normally I would be frightened by the emptiness, but then I was comforted. It was like a quilt and I felt safe. Then, I heard the crunching of footsteps pressing the dry ground. Someone was here, and I didn’t care at all.

          “If you’re a serial killer,” I said, “could you make it quick? There is no need for you to waste your time with torture.”

          “Well, unless you hate fudge, you’re out of luck.”

          I looked up at the voice to see a boy. His backpack was slung over his right shoulder. Gracefully, with only one arm, he slid it off and tossed it in front of me.

          “Do I know you?” I questioned him. I studied him carefully, his chocolate brown hair a little lengthy and starting to get in his greenish-blue eyes. His face was red; his eye sort of squinted, and was smiling a huge, goofy smile.

          “I’m pretty sure you don’t.” he smirked. “I’m Jonathan. Now you know me.”

          “Well, Jonathan, the heck are you doing out here in the middle of the night?”

          He just kept smiling and said, “Maybe I should ask you that, you were here first, you know?”

          I shook my head, “So, you said something about fudge?”

          “Uh, yeah,” he said, reaching into his bag. He pulled out a plastic bag half full of fudge. “You want one?” he asked.

          “Sure, why not,” I said.

           He laughed a bit, “Your mother never told you to not accept things from strangers?”

          I pulled a piece of fudge from his bag and said, “Well, I know who you are now, remember? You’re Jonathan and you walk in the woods late at night.”

          He smiled. “So who are you?”

          “I’m Hazel,” I said between chews. “Dang, this is freaking delicious fudge.”



© 2011 CompellingComposer


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Reviews

Amazingly I remember being one of thefirst people to ever see this story before it was published. It brings back so many memories.

Posted 9 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

I must know more! :)

Posted 10 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

I definitely love the title. :)
It was really humorous. Great write

Posted 10 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.


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319 Views
3 Reviews
Added on July 2, 2011
Last Updated on September 13, 2011
Tags: love, fudge, trains, dragons, short, story, megan, duncan, teen, fireworks


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CompellingComposer
CompellingComposer

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About
My name is Megan and I have been writing poems since 4th grade and stories since 6th. I'm very, very young, as I've noticed from the ages of my fellow writers on this site. Yes, I am only 13, but writ.. more..

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