Okay. Alright. Poor excuse.
In all seriousness, I'm sorry friendlings. Life has come to resemble something out of Days Of Our Lives recently. I would bore you with details of the sex scandals, comatose siblings and recently discovered relations, but hey, I know you'd much rather hear about my adventures into university. Right? Right.
Thursday was enrolment day, and as such I braced myself for a peregrination into Monash, where, upon entry, it was explained to me just how little of my soul law intends to leave intact. Does anyone have a law degree I could just, say, borrow? That'd be great. Really. I'm not going to survive the year. It has also been made apparent to me by the angry angry socialist woman with a clipboard that I am far too right wing to belong at Monash. I'm sorry angry lady, please don't impale me.
As I am currently struggling through a pre semester assignment, I'm going to tide you over with an amusing little glimpse into my past, that being the only piece of my writing available to me on my Aunt's computer - a literacy assigment from year 9. Happen to have read Stephen King's short story, The Body? It was meant to be an exercise in picking up characters and style (as such, both must be credited to Mr King). Hopefully I'll see you next time with something slightly more substantial.
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Billy Tessio stood hunched over, big hands shoved into his pockets, one foot scuffing the brown dirt driveway, sending up a cloud of dust. Charlie Hogan scratched his head. Fuzzy Brackowicz leaned against the dusty old car and watched them both, out of the loop, and somehow sensing it. Something had happened between last night and now, and these guys were acting strange. Real strange. It was the hottest day of summer, and the street was empty. Not that it wasn’t normally, but now, not a thing moved. Even the birds were holed up somewhere, hiding from the heat. Ace Merrill had gone down the corner to the store to see if he could hawk some cigarettes.
Finally, Charlie broke the silence. “We gotta tell him Billy” Billy’s head jerked up, and a hand emerged from his pocket, fist clutched tightly around a switchblade. The blade glittered threateningly in the hot summer sun. “Shut your face. We don’t gotta tell him nothing, Charlie. You hear? Nothing!” Fuzzy eyed them both, then played with the hem of his shirt uneasily. He didn’t like Billy when he was in this kind of mood. None of them did. The guy was dangerous. At the same time though, curiosity gnawed at him. “Tell… tell me what guys?” Billy rounded on Fuzzy, his eyes shining menacingly. “Nothing. We got nothing to tell, Fuzz, so you just get outta our business.” Billy realised that he was holding the blade aloft, and lowered it again, glaring at Charlie. He should’ve known the guy couldn’t keep a secret. Never could. But he was gonna have to learn.
Police’d find that dead kid sooner or later, and hey, what did it matter to them? If they reported it, if someone found out that they’d found him, well, they were going to ask questions, weren’t they? They’d been miles out of town when they’d stumbled on that body. Eventually, someone was going to start wondering just how they got out that far without a car, and when they did, someone would surely find out about that car they jacked last night. It was a regular thing for the boys. They’d boost a car and go joyriding through the woods with a couple of scags, Marie Daughtery and Beverly Thomas. They weren’t great girls; pimples, moustaches, the works. But hey, as long as they kept putting out, the boys didn’t care. They’d take the girls parking somewhere out Castle Rock way, drink themselves blind and make out, then dump the car somewhere. Cheap thrills.
Charlie looked like he was going to say something else, then thought the better of it. What could he say to Billy? How could he possibly make him understand that he needed to tell? Tell him about the guilt? That kid had been on the news for weeks, he must’ve had parents that wanted to know what happened to him. Or how about the nightmares? Last night spent lying stiff as a board in bed, seeing the kid’s mangled body lying on the train tracks, imagining him right before it happened, rooted to the spot and watching the train rush towards him, those big bright lights. Worst of all, imagining his mangled corpse dragging itself out from under his bed to wrap cold, clammy fingers around Charlie's calves, it’s eyes big and blank, those horrible eyes. Accusing eyes. No, he couldn’t tell Billy any of these things. He just couldn’t.
They stood in silence for awhile, feet scuffing the ground, hands shoved in pockets. Eventually, Ace sauntered around the corner, pack of smokes bulging in his pocket. He chucked one to each of them and watched as they lit up. They stood awhile longer, before Ace finally pulled out his keys. “C’mon guys. Let’s go graffiti the old saw mill. There ain’t nothin better to do” The boys nodded and flicked their cigarette butts on the ground, before clambering into the old car. Fuzzy glanced at Billy and Charlie, but said nothing. Not in front of Ace. If Billy was dangerous, Ace was downright lethal. And with that they were gone, a cloud of dust rising in their wake.
Finally, Charlie broke the silence. “We gotta tell him Billy” Billy’s head jerked up, and a hand emerged from his pocket, fist clutched tightly around a switchblade. The blade glittered threateningly in the hot summer sun. “Shut your face. We don’t gotta tell him nothing, Charlie. You hear? Nothing!” Fuzzy eyed them both, then played with the hem of his shirt uneasily. He didn’t like Billy when he was in this kind of mood. None of them did. The guy was dangerous. At the same time though, curiosity gnawed at him. “Tell… tell me what guys?” Billy rounded on Fuzzy, his eyes shining menacingly. “Nothing. We got nothing to tell, Fuzz, so you just get outta our business.” Billy realised that he was holding the blade aloft, and lowered it again, glaring at Charlie. He should’ve known the guy couldn’t keep a secret. Never could. But he was gonna have to learn.
Police’d find that dead kid sooner or later, and hey, what did it matter to them? If they reported it, if someone found out that they’d found him, well, they were going to ask questions, weren’t they? They’d been miles out of town when they’d stumbled on that body. Eventually, someone was going to start wondering just how they got out that far without a car, and when they did, someone would surely find out about that car they jacked last night. It was a regular thing for the boys. They’d boost a car and go joyriding through the woods with a couple of scags, Marie Daughtery and Beverly Thomas. They weren’t great girls; pimples, moustaches, the works. But hey, as long as they kept putting out, the boys didn’t care. They’d take the girls parking somewhere out Castle Rock way, drink themselves blind and make out, then dump the car somewhere. Cheap thrills.
Charlie looked like he was going to say something else, then thought the better of it. What could he say to Billy? How could he possibly make him understand that he needed to tell? Tell him about the guilt? That kid had been on the news for weeks, he must’ve had parents that wanted to know what happened to him. Or how about the nightmares? Last night spent lying stiff as a board in bed, seeing the kid’s mangled body lying on the train tracks, imagining him right before it happened, rooted to the spot and watching the train rush towards him, those big bright lights. Worst of all, imagining his mangled corpse dragging itself out from under his bed to wrap cold, clammy fingers around Charlie's calves, it’s eyes big and blank, those horrible eyes. Accusing eyes. No, he couldn’t tell Billy any of these things. He just couldn’t.
They stood in silence for awhile, feet scuffing the ground, hands shoved in pockets. Eventually, Ace sauntered around the corner, pack of smokes bulging in his pocket. He chucked one to each of them and watched as they lit up. They stood awhile longer, before Ace finally pulled out his keys. “C’mon guys. Let’s go graffiti the old saw mill. There ain’t nothin better to do” The boys nodded and flicked their cigarette butts on the ground, before clambering into the old car. Fuzzy glanced at Billy and Charlie, but said nothing. Not in front of Ace. If Billy was dangerous, Ace was downright lethal. And with that they were gone, a cloud of dust rising in their wake.
