Advise on blogs about antique Wool

December 10th, 2010 | Author: Antique

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Is This Something You Would Read?
I wrote this for a short story or maybe a book and I was wondering if it's something people would read.This is just a tiny snippet of it so I know you can't really get a grasp of the plot, so I'll tell you it's about a boy who begins to have hallucinations of a guy named Jack and slowly goes insane as he tries to understand what's happening.It's written in first person and the narrator has a kind of "screw you""Catcher In The Rye" voice about him.Ignore grammatical or spelling errors please.e-mail if you want more.I first saw my friend Jack on the 13th of January when I was 15 years old. It was a Friday, and also the last day I was clinically sane. He was leaning on mailbox across the street from ours. It must have been about 3:30 because I was just arriving at my house from school when I noticed a crazy looking guy watching me as I came up the little hill in front of my driveway. He was dressed like what I always imagined Sherlock Holmes would look like. He was wearing this big, brown, wool-looking overcoat that wasn’t buttoned up, just tied around the middle with a big belt, and kind of flared out at the bottom. Under that he had this nice, old-timey European style suit that was also brown and wool-looking, and real tall boots that almost touched his knees. To complete the ensemble, he had a spiffy little top hat- the kind that you’re liable to see in a flea market or antique store and wish you could buy just for the novelty of it. His hair could have been either black or brown, and his face was so pale that it made the rest of him look like it was escaped from an old movie with no colors except black and white.. His eyes antique Wool looked as lively as the rest of us, even though there was absolutely no color in them either.Freak. That’s what I thought of when I saw him. He just leaned on the mailbox and watched me come all the way up the street with a tiny little toothless smile cracked across his face. I dragged myself up to my driveway under his eyes, and went over to my own mailbox. My walks home would be much easier if I didn’t have to walk. Unfortunately, the bus only goes as far as the elementary school near my house, and they figure that a half a mile isn’t too far for a growing boy like me to trudge. Soon I’ll be able to drive though, and that half mile won’t be bad at all. I opened the mailbox and although I couldn’t see him, I knew the crazy guy was still watching me. I pulled out three letters and closed the box. I wanted to get one last look at the guy before I went inside so I turned around, gave him a polite little wave with a half smile and said “How’s it goin?”He tipped his top hat to me and said “Very well thank you.” His voice kind of surprised me a little bit. I was expecting to hear something just as weird as the rest of him, but it was just a normal guy’s voice. It sounded like whatever you’d think a six foot, two hundred pound guys voice ought to sound like. But then again, you can have a normal voice and still be a freak.I kept smiling and gave him a little nod, then I turned around and headed up to my front door. I sorted through the three letters I was holding to see if there was anything for me. I don’t get mail very often, but Friday the 13th was my lucky day. TO THE PARENTS OF:WILLIAMS, RALPH G.1555 POMEGRANATE CR.ROYALTY CO 80357Williams, Ralph Grover- that’s me; 1555 Pomegranate Circle is my house, and Royalty Colorado is my sleepy little town. No one but old people live in Pomegranate Circle, which is nice because they’re always giving you stuff. I remember when we first moved into this neighborhood. I was about ten, and my little sister Claire was almost nine. We got about three big plates of brownies on the first day from all the old people who wanted to welcome us in the neighborhood. The second day we got a jar of special spaghetti sauce and on day number three we got some homemade beef jerky. The jerky was my favorite. It came from the house across the street- 1559 Pomegranate Circle. The house whose mailbox the crazy guy was leaning on. That’s where old Howard lived. Howard Wallace wasn’t too ancient as far as old people go. I’d say about 65 or 70 years old at the most. Just getting into retirement, and just figuring out what it feels like to be useless. No wife and no kids, to look after either so he must have been lonely as hell. Lonely and useless. People say it’s bad to feel sorry for other people, but everyone felt sorry for old Howard. Poor guy.Claire was already home when I stepped inside. Her bus ride from the middle school is shorter than my ride from the high school, so she always got home a little earlier than me. She was actually supposed to wait for me until I got there so we could walk home together, but she never did. Her time was just too important.“Who’s that weird guy in front of Howard’s house?” I asked. She turned from her bowl of cereal on the breakfast bar and leaned forward a bit to see out the windSorry Yahoo cut my content short. Blast!
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