- Joined
- Jan 27, 2014
I think he'd been tossing around ideas for Alphaboy since middle school, if I recall.
حلال Connor Bible - Everyone's Favorite Molly Ringwald loving, adoption hating, aspiring writer and bellybutton fucker
- Thread starter Null
- Start date
- Joined
- Oct 29, 2013
For my avid fan, Smutley.
ALPHABOY
by Connor
ALPHABOY
by Connor
Chapter One
As usual, Sean Gillespie awoke on his first day of high school to find himself floating above his bed. It was an unconscious habit, he reminded himself, but in time, he would learn to master it, as he did the others. It would require a good amount of patience and grace. Taking a series of deep breaths, he gradually lowered himself until he felt his back collided with the sheets. Outside, the sun rose over the neighborhood of Frederickson, Illinois, its rays shooting through the closed blinds and painting the walls.
This was an important day, for his parents and for him. It was the beginning of a significant period of his life, where childhood ended and adulthood was not far on the horizon. He was confident, but at the same time, on heightened alert. Most boys my age, he thought, are incapable of levitating over their beds, knocking a baseball from here to an office building in Janus City, or accidentally bruising a man’s hand whilst gently shaking it.
Throughout much of his childhood, he had been to several doctor visits to see just what was up with him. His mother was, and still is, a registered nurse at the emergency room of Janus City Memorial; her maternal instincts strong, she oversaw the appointments. The bizarre thing was that the numerous psychiatric and physical tests yielded no results that were out of the ordinary. The doctor’s conclusion was that Sean Gillespie was a boy in top physical shape that was wise beyond his years. He remembered a psychiatrist’s surprise that he was reading Sartre at age eight.
For a moment, Sean found himself staring in the direction of the window. With his vision, he could see through it and the surrounding wall, as if it was not even there. He could also hear what was going on outside. A neighbor was walking his dog in his robe and slippers, birds were chirping, and for some reason, the black Audi with tinted windows did not move an inch since it stopped across the street last night. Even stranger was the fact that he could not pick up any chatter or shady activity going on within it. The Audi simply stood there, dead silent and possibly lying in wait. It’s probably nothing, he thought.
Sean rose from his bed and stretched, and proceeded to get dressed.
###
The Gillespies all stepped out of the front of their house, with Joe opening the door the garage with the press of a button. Inside were two vehicles: Mary’s silver four-door Toyota, and Joe’s pickup truck.
“You know, I can fly to school,” Sean said.
“I thought you were taking the bus. It should be here any minute,” Joe said, getting into his pickup.
“Well, I thought it’d be faster,” Sean said, walking over to the driver’s window.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea, Sean. You want to make a good first impression, right?”
“Yeah, you’re right,” Sean sighed. “See you later, Dad.”
“The same, son,” Joe replied. He turned the ignition, and went out of the driveway.
Mary already had the camera in ensconced in her hands. “Cheer up, Sean.”
“I’m fine, Mom. Sometimes, I get the feeling that I’m being held back.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m can pull of things no ordinary kid my age can. I don’t really see them as limitations. In fact, I could use them to make something of myself, and become somebody.”
“But you are somebody, Sean. You’re a Gillespie.”
“Yeah, that I am,” Sean said. He turned and walked down to the sidewalk, his mother behind him. The black Audi was still on the opposite side of the road.
“Ready for the photo shoot, Mrs. Leibowitz?”
Mary laughed. “It’s just one picture.”
Sean had his back to the road, his eyes on his mother. He kept them away from the Audi, trying to keep his mind away from the anxiety he felt. This was a big day. For a moment, the two of them were completely silent. He was simply standing there. This was a point of no return. Puberty was only a prelude.
“Come on, strike a pose for your momma,” Mary said.
Sean sighed, shot a quick glance at the Audi and returned his eyesight to Mary. He folded his arms, and he flashed a smile that radiated confidence. The flash of the camera went off.
“Was that good enough, Mom?”
“Of course it was.”
Nearby, Sean caught the sound of the bus engine. He turned, and stood at the edge of the sidewalk as it slowly cruised down the street, coming to a stop right next to him. Sean gulped and exhaled deeply through his nose. Already, he could hear the chatter of the kids on the bus. Many of them were looking out of their windows at him. Their countenances varied from excitement to dread.
“Are you coming on?” A voice asked. Sean saw that it was the bus driver, a short, pudgy, gray haired man. Quickly, Sean looked back at the Audi, and then over his shoulder. Mary Gillespie was smiling. He smiled too, and stepped into the bus, the door closing behind him.
As soon as the door closed, the bus took off. Sean found himself staring in silence at the dozens of kids who occupied many of the seats. They were silent as well, and returned his gaze. On the bus radio, Frank Sinatra was signing about Paris, London, and Rome.
“Hi,” Sean awkwardly said. He could hear the heartbeats some of the kids intensify as he began to make his way down the aisle. He could see the black Audi following the bus, staying a safe distance away from the rear in an effort to drive away attention.
Sean was almost to the back of the bus, when a familiar voice called out. “That you, Sean Gillespie?”
Sean turned, and to his amazement and surprise, saw that it was Nathaniel Colby.
“Nate! You son of a bitch!” Sean exclaimed. Their hands collided and caught themselves in a tight grip. White and black merged, their arm muscles bulging as if they were sending all of their energy into their hands. “I haven’t seen you since elementary school! When did you get back from Chicago?”
“It was a few months ago, my man.” Nate was considerably taller than Sean and much larger in build, but not fat at all. He was almost unrecognizable from the scrawny boy that he knew in fourth grade.
“What happened to you? You got huge all of a sudden!”
“You’d be surprised what hard work and exercise can do. Hot damn, I’m pumped!”
“You’re not using juice, are you?”
“Hell no, brother, I stay away from that stuff. Make your dick fall off.”
“That’s a little too much information, Nate.”
“Yeah, but it’s the truth, brother.”
“You’re damn right, it is.”
Sean looked over his shoulder once more, and the Audi of anxiety was still following him.
As usual, Sean Gillespie awoke on his first day of high school to find himself floating above his bed. It was an unconscious habit, he reminded himself, but in time, he would learn to master it, as he did the others. It would require a good amount of patience and grace. Taking a series of deep breaths, he gradually lowered himself until he felt his back collided with the sheets. Outside, the sun rose over the neighborhood of Frederickson, Illinois, its rays shooting through the closed blinds and painting the walls.
This was an important day, for his parents and for him. It was the beginning of a significant period of his life, where childhood ended and adulthood was not far on the horizon. He was confident, but at the same time, on heightened alert. Most boys my age, he thought, are incapable of levitating over their beds, knocking a baseball from here to an office building in Janus City, or accidentally bruising a man’s hand whilst gently shaking it.
Throughout much of his childhood, he had been to several doctor visits to see just what was up with him. His mother was, and still is, a registered nurse at the emergency room of Janus City Memorial; her maternal instincts strong, she oversaw the appointments. The bizarre thing was that the numerous psychiatric and physical tests yielded no results that were out of the ordinary. The doctor’s conclusion was that Sean Gillespie was a boy in top physical shape that was wise beyond his years. He remembered a psychiatrist’s surprise that he was reading Sartre at age eight.
For a moment, Sean found himself staring in the direction of the window. With his vision, he could see through it and the surrounding wall, as if it was not even there. He could also hear what was going on outside. A neighbor was walking his dog in his robe and slippers, birds were chirping, and for some reason, the black Audi with tinted windows did not move an inch since it stopped across the street last night. Even stranger was the fact that he could not pick up any chatter or shady activity going on within it. The Audi simply stood there, dead silent and possibly lying in wait. It’s probably nothing, he thought.
Sean rose from his bed and stretched, and proceeded to get dressed.
###
Joe Gillespie noticed that his hair was finally going gray. It was bound to happen sometime, he thought. Out with the old and in with the new. He and Mary had already gotten dressed, him in his plaid shirt and jean work overalls, her in the standard scrubs. He stuffed a pack of Marlboro’s into his left breast pocket, and caught himself looking at his face in the mirror again. His skin was tan, almost bronze, with a few exceptions. A vertical scar split his left eyebrow in half. A horizontal one zoomed across his left cheek. There were burns throughout his arms. They all never tanned.
He let out a cough that he muted with his hand, and heard his wife sniffing. Looking out of the bathroom and towards the bed that he shared with her, he saw that she was crying. She was sitting at the edge of the bed, going through the family photo album. It was a prized possession of hers, containing a saga of their son’s life. Sean meant the world to Joe and Mary, and it showed in the album. Inside were snapshots, moments of happiness and warmth captured in time and preserved for nostalgia.
Mary noticed that tears of joy were sliding down her face, past the cleft palate scar that shot like a lightning bolt up her right nostril. “I’ve got a space in here for today. His first day of high school,” she said.
“Time sure does fly, doesn’t it?” Joe leaned against the doorframe, smiling with closed lips. Mary looked back at him, cracking a full smile with her own full lips and tiny white teeth. Even though they were getting up in age, he still saw the beauty in her. The rising sun did a great job of illuminating it.
“Yes, Joe. It sure does.” Mary’s tears were going away.
Joe sat down on the bed beside her, his eyes drawn to the numerous pictures contained in clear plastic within the album’s pages. Mary was holding a baby Sean, fourteen years ago. Eleven years ago, Sean was sitting atop Joe’s shoulders, his little hands resting on the top of his father’s head. At age ten, Sean stood at a fence in his Little League gear. Last year, the Gillespies embraced each other in their seats at Janus Challenger Stadium during a playoff between the Angels and the Chicago Bears.
“We’ve done a good job, haven’t we?” Joe asked.
Mary simply smiled again and nodded. “We’ve done more than just good. We’ve been blessed.”
Joe remembered the days before Sean came into their lives. He did not speak much about what went on in his life prior to meeting Mary. The scars and the tattoo of a lion holding a combat knife in its mouth on his right deltoid spoke for him. She came into his life when things were bad. Sean amplified the effect. The Joe Gillespie of yesteryear, that ferocious lion, was dead.
“Joe, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”
“Shoot, babe,” Joe replied.
“Sean’s at an important stage of his life. High school’s going to be no cakewalk.”
“High school never is.”
“Yes, but our son is different. You know as well as I do that he’s not like the others. I’m afraid they wouldn’t accept him, either the kids or the faculty.”
“To hell with them,” Joe said. “If they don’t like him for any particular reason, that’s their problem, not ours.”
“I think they’re afraid of him for a very clear reason.”
“You mean the things that he’s capable of?”
Mary nodded. “Should we tell him?”
“Tell me about what?” A voice very familiar to both of them inquired. They saw that it was Sean, already dressed for his first day of school and his backpack slung over one shoulder. He wore a white buttoned-down shirt, its collar neatly folded, and black pants with sneakers.
“Hey champ,” Joe said. “How long have you been up?”
“Five minutes, Dad. You know how fast I can be.”
“Five minutes, and already dressed for success!” Mary extended her arms, and Sean walked into them, accepting their embrace. “So, this is the big day, your first hours as a high school freshman!”
“I’ve been looking forward to it,” Sean said with a cocked eyebrow. “I see you have the photo album out. Have you been going on a trip down Memory Lane?”
“You bet I have, Sean. I’m so proud of you.”
“Don’t leave me out of it, honey,” Joe said.
“I am not,” Mary responded. “Speaking of Memory Lane, hold on and let me get my camera!” She immediately got up and went to the other side of the bed, looking underneath for the box that contained it.
“It’s okay, Mom. You don’t have to take a picture.”
“Why shouldn’t I, Sean?”
“It’s just going to be like any other day, I guess.”
“It’s not just any other day! It’s your first day of high school!”
“It’s not like I’m graduating already.”
“Mother knows best,” Joe remarked.
“Yeah,” Sean said, “I guess so.”
He let out a cough that he muted with his hand, and heard his wife sniffing. Looking out of the bathroom and towards the bed that he shared with her, he saw that she was crying. She was sitting at the edge of the bed, going through the family photo album. It was a prized possession of hers, containing a saga of their son’s life. Sean meant the world to Joe and Mary, and it showed in the album. Inside were snapshots, moments of happiness and warmth captured in time and preserved for nostalgia.
Mary noticed that tears of joy were sliding down her face, past the cleft palate scar that shot like a lightning bolt up her right nostril. “I’ve got a space in here for today. His first day of high school,” she said.
“Time sure does fly, doesn’t it?” Joe leaned against the doorframe, smiling with closed lips. Mary looked back at him, cracking a full smile with her own full lips and tiny white teeth. Even though they were getting up in age, he still saw the beauty in her. The rising sun did a great job of illuminating it.
“Yes, Joe. It sure does.” Mary’s tears were going away.
Joe sat down on the bed beside her, his eyes drawn to the numerous pictures contained in clear plastic within the album’s pages. Mary was holding a baby Sean, fourteen years ago. Eleven years ago, Sean was sitting atop Joe’s shoulders, his little hands resting on the top of his father’s head. At age ten, Sean stood at a fence in his Little League gear. Last year, the Gillespies embraced each other in their seats at Janus Challenger Stadium during a playoff between the Angels and the Chicago Bears.
“We’ve done a good job, haven’t we?” Joe asked.
Mary simply smiled again and nodded. “We’ve done more than just good. We’ve been blessed.”
Joe remembered the days before Sean came into their lives. He did not speak much about what went on in his life prior to meeting Mary. The scars and the tattoo of a lion holding a combat knife in its mouth on his right deltoid spoke for him. She came into his life when things were bad. Sean amplified the effect. The Joe Gillespie of yesteryear, that ferocious lion, was dead.
“Joe, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”
“Shoot, babe,” Joe replied.
“Sean’s at an important stage of his life. High school’s going to be no cakewalk.”
“High school never is.”
“Yes, but our son is different. You know as well as I do that he’s not like the others. I’m afraid they wouldn’t accept him, either the kids or the faculty.”
“To hell with them,” Joe said. “If they don’t like him for any particular reason, that’s their problem, not ours.”
“I think they’re afraid of him for a very clear reason.”
“You mean the things that he’s capable of?”
Mary nodded. “Should we tell him?”
“Tell me about what?” A voice very familiar to both of them inquired. They saw that it was Sean, already dressed for his first day of school and his backpack slung over one shoulder. He wore a white buttoned-down shirt, its collar neatly folded, and black pants with sneakers.
“Hey champ,” Joe said. “How long have you been up?”
“Five minutes, Dad. You know how fast I can be.”
“Five minutes, and already dressed for success!” Mary extended her arms, and Sean walked into them, accepting their embrace. “So, this is the big day, your first hours as a high school freshman!”
“I’ve been looking forward to it,” Sean said with a cocked eyebrow. “I see you have the photo album out. Have you been going on a trip down Memory Lane?”
“You bet I have, Sean. I’m so proud of you.”
“Don’t leave me out of it, honey,” Joe said.
“I am not,” Mary responded. “Speaking of Memory Lane, hold on and let me get my camera!” She immediately got up and went to the other side of the bed, looking underneath for the box that contained it.
“It’s okay, Mom. You don’t have to take a picture.”
“Why shouldn’t I, Sean?”
“It’s just going to be like any other day, I guess.”
“It’s not just any other day! It’s your first day of high school!”
“It’s not like I’m graduating already.”
“Mother knows best,” Joe remarked.
“Yeah,” Sean said, “I guess so.”
###
The Gillespies all stepped out of the front of their house, with Joe opening the door the garage with the press of a button. Inside were two vehicles: Mary’s silver four-door Toyota, and Joe’s pickup truck.
“You know, I can fly to school,” Sean said.
“I thought you were taking the bus. It should be here any minute,” Joe said, getting into his pickup.
“Well, I thought it’d be faster,” Sean said, walking over to the driver’s window.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea, Sean. You want to make a good first impression, right?”
“Yeah, you’re right,” Sean sighed. “See you later, Dad.”
“The same, son,” Joe replied. He turned the ignition, and went out of the driveway.
Mary already had the camera in ensconced in her hands. “Cheer up, Sean.”
“I’m fine, Mom. Sometimes, I get the feeling that I’m being held back.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m can pull of things no ordinary kid my age can. I don’t really see them as limitations. In fact, I could use them to make something of myself, and become somebody.”
“But you are somebody, Sean. You’re a Gillespie.”
“Yeah, that I am,” Sean said. He turned and walked down to the sidewalk, his mother behind him. The black Audi was still on the opposite side of the road.
“Ready for the photo shoot, Mrs. Leibowitz?”
Mary laughed. “It’s just one picture.”
Sean had his back to the road, his eyes on his mother. He kept them away from the Audi, trying to keep his mind away from the anxiety he felt. This was a big day. For a moment, the two of them were completely silent. He was simply standing there. This was a point of no return. Puberty was only a prelude.
“Come on, strike a pose for your momma,” Mary said.
Sean sighed, shot a quick glance at the Audi and returned his eyesight to Mary. He folded his arms, and he flashed a smile that radiated confidence. The flash of the camera went off.
“Was that good enough, Mom?”
“Of course it was.”
Nearby, Sean caught the sound of the bus engine. He turned, and stood at the edge of the sidewalk as it slowly cruised down the street, coming to a stop right next to him. Sean gulped and exhaled deeply through his nose. Already, he could hear the chatter of the kids on the bus. Many of them were looking out of their windows at him. Their countenances varied from excitement to dread.
“Are you coming on?” A voice asked. Sean saw that it was the bus driver, a short, pudgy, gray haired man. Quickly, Sean looked back at the Audi, and then over his shoulder. Mary Gillespie was smiling. He smiled too, and stepped into the bus, the door closing behind him.
As soon as the door closed, the bus took off. Sean found himself staring in silence at the dozens of kids who occupied many of the seats. They were silent as well, and returned his gaze. On the bus radio, Frank Sinatra was signing about Paris, London, and Rome.
“Hi,” Sean awkwardly said. He could hear the heartbeats some of the kids intensify as he began to make his way down the aisle. He could see the black Audi following the bus, staying a safe distance away from the rear in an effort to drive away attention.
Sean was almost to the back of the bus, when a familiar voice called out. “That you, Sean Gillespie?”
Sean turned, and to his amazement and surprise, saw that it was Nathaniel Colby.
“Nate! You son of a bitch!” Sean exclaimed. Their hands collided and caught themselves in a tight grip. White and black merged, their arm muscles bulging as if they were sending all of their energy into their hands. “I haven’t seen you since elementary school! When did you get back from Chicago?”
“It was a few months ago, my man.” Nate was considerably taller than Sean and much larger in build, but not fat at all. He was almost unrecognizable from the scrawny boy that he knew in fourth grade.
“What happened to you? You got huge all of a sudden!”
“You’d be surprised what hard work and exercise can do. Hot damn, I’m pumped!”
“You’re not using juice, are you?”
“Hell no, brother, I stay away from that stuff. Make your dick fall off.”
“That’s a little too much information, Nate.”
“Yeah, but it’s the truth, brother.”
“You’re damn right, it is.”
Sean looked over his shoulder once more, and the Audi of anxiety was still following him.
END OF CHAPTER ONE
Next week, Sean meets an old flame and faces a new challenge: fitting in!
Next week, Sean meets an old flame and faces a new challenge: fitting in!
Last edited by a moderator:
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- Feb 3, 2013
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- Jan 10, 2014
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- Jun 16, 2014
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- Jul 23, 2014
If it's really this short, why not just this into the Conner thread?
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- Oct 1, 2014
Connor, I think you need to come to terms with the fact that you write black people about as well as Michael Bay.
- Joined
- Jul 23, 2014
The fact that half of Nate's scene is an exact remake of the opening to Predator doesn't help.
- Joined
- Oct 1, 2014
You need a beta.
Also, don't start a story with a character waking up and an exposition dump. It's literary suicide!
But hey, at least you wrote something. So, good on you, I guess.
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- Feb 23, 2015
> "Puberty was only a prelude."
- Joined
- Oct 1, 2014
Yeah, I just read it.
It's an improvement from the school nurse in Redesigning Eva in that it's not grossly offensive, but that's not a terribly high bar.
- Joined
- Jul 24, 2013
This was everything I hoped it would be, and more. Thank you for posting it Connor!
Eagerly anticipating Chapter 2.
Eagerly anticipating Chapter 2.
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- Oct 29, 2013
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- Feb 23, 2015
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- Oct 29, 2013
Yes, that was intentional.
- Joined
- Jul 24, 2013
Do you have work to do? Yeah, it's a first chapter of a first draft. But pacing / grammar issues can be worked on in post, and this is a real departure from Redesigning Eva which near the end seemed like an anchor around your neck. When you weren't down with writers block it sounded like you were even having fun with this project, which makes a big difference too.
Abby
kiwifarms.net
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- Mar 27, 2014
Connor, honest question, have you ever met a black person?
Nate wasn't that bad, but his dialogue just felt super forced and kinda cringey. A lot of the dialogue felt rather unnatural, and didn't seem to fit the characters. It was okay, I suppose. Only the first chapter and it's writing so good job there. I was actually able to finish the chapter, unlike pretty much any chapter of Redesigning Eva.
Nate wasn't that bad, but his dialogue just felt super forced and kinda cringey. A lot of the dialogue felt rather unnatural, and didn't seem to fit the characters. It was okay, I suppose. Only the first chapter and it's writing so good job there. I was actually able to finish the chapter, unlike pretty much any chapter of Redesigning Eva.
- Joined
- Sep 9, 2014
Beautiful read. I like how just in one line you could tell Sean and Nate had history. Looking forward to seeing where their relationship takes them, and how Nate copes with having a super hero for a boyfriend.
- Joined
- Oct 29, 2013
Oh my fucking god, this is hilarious!
- Joined
- Jul 23, 2014
But not remotely original. I appreciate an Arnold movie reference as mush as the next man, but please, at least try to be clever about it. Copypasta is not your friend.