Story Posts

Hiya people of the creative and oh so passionate N.E.R.D community! This is Squeak and I’m gonna throw a little curve ball into this rather dull sight, seeing as I haven’t posted very much. I have an idea for a story and I want some public opinionated feedback. This is a chapter for the story and I want to know what you think, guys! 🙂

Zombies raced at the PC gamer “Chase” from Brooklyn, New York; he bashed in their heads covered in rotting flesh, blew them up with bombs and rockets, and blasted them with his double-barrel pump-action shotgun. He was an excellent gamer with skills honed tediously and strenuously after school work had been completed. At the top of both his class and his zombie assassination team, his pride should be through the roof. It wasn’t. He recognized the superior skill he had and accepted it with humility; he had earned his game ranking via discipline and experience without the use of cheats or mods. Chase—as his gamertag states—was an impeccable student of academic and technological skill.

His name is Jeremiah Connelly, a Junior and valedictorian at East Annan High School, living in one of the many brownstones in the heart of the Brooklyn district of New York City. He didn’t know that his massive knowledge of weaponry, wars, ammunition, and tactical maneuvers would assist in the growth of his hidden, inherited, innate power; he was completely oblivious to his strength.

Now, Jeremiah lives with his parents and one sister, Ginnifer (aka Gen). His parents are often out on business ventures, leaving him and Gen to fend for themselves in one of the world’s most populated cities. Gen got a job once she turned eighteen, being the elder of the siblings; she is now a twenty-year-old student mentor only kept at E.A. to keep Jeremiah in check who took on the role of being his motherly figure. The two protected each other, each of them studying a genre of combat styling—Ginnifer learnt jujutsu while Jeremiah practiced taekwondo.

The story begins in the depths of Brooklyn’s brownstones[1]. The two siblings have been left alone again by their workaholic parents to prepare for the oncoming school day.

“Jay!” Ginnifer calls out excitedly, “C’mon let’s get going! We’re gonna be late!”

“Coming Gen. Wait up!” They drop their boards and take the alleyways as means for a shortcut. “We need the shortest route possible. If we take the connector at 53rd then we should make it!” Jeremiah calls over the wind in his ears.

Gen fuels her board again, her scruffy coffee-colored hair moving in the wind and purple bangs tickling her freckled face. Jeremiah notices that even though they are four years apart (him being sixteen and her twenty), they were more like best buds than they were siblings; other than the preferred hobbies they did everything together: school, sports, music, and even television options. They hardly ever parted ways on anything.

The school of East Annan High was a huge building entirely of cinder block and brick, flat faced with windows on both floors; it was an amazing institution in academics, sports, and any other regions of competition. And with Gen having already graduated a couple years back and now participating as a student teacher, she heads to the English room in the Freshman Hall; Jay goes to the Junior Hallway for the first class on his schedule.

The intercom turns on with a subtle crackling noise. “Jeremiah Connelly please report to the dean’s office.” The dean is like their principal, but stuck up and hardly ever searched for details when it came to claims against the students.

The whole classroom turns and looks at him; noted as an intelligent troublemaker, this announcement can mean anything, really: detention, suspension, referral, even expulsion. There is a laundry list of possibilities as to what Breaves could do to the smartest and most dangerous student in East Annan. His peers watch as he stands quietly to make his way through the uniformly arrayed desks; once inside he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “What have I been accused for the time round the block, Mr. Breaves?” he asks quietly.

The dean looks at the star pupil of his establishment with a hard, disappointed glare of disgust. “Jeremiah,” he began with his snotty tone. “It is to my knowledge that you live with Ginnifer and the Connelly household. And they have raised a very bright young man, but recently you’ve been said to be skipping class and going to the bar four blocks down.” His voice scratches at Jay’s ears like a knife on fine china.

“I haven’t,” he starts calmly. “Ask Gen, Tyler, or Dan. This shit is getting real old real fast Breaves!” His tone escalates quickly as his fists form tightly at his sides. Breaves got on him for use of foul language. “Don’t even try it. Sir, with all due respect, you can place me in detention and even juvenile hall, but I have never in my life been intoxicated due to alcohol or drug use! Now, I have taken your arbitrary and ridiculous options of punishment for things you had no proof of me doing for the past two and a half years at this school without questioning once. However, you’ve just gone ten leagues too far this time, Breaves!” He slams his fist in the fine wood desk he sees about every two months.

The truancy officer barges through the door. “Calm down, Connelly. Let’s not do this dance again, please.”

Jeremiah glares at the officer and swings blindly, ably landing his fist into the man’s jaw. “Get the hell outta here. The dean should fight his own battles, goddamn it.”

The conversation plays on loudly over the intercom’s speakers, catching all students and teachers awestruck at the intensity of one of the school’s most intuitive pupils. Gen steps forward from her place in the back of the classroom and glances at the teacher for his nod of approval. Jay, I’m coming, she thought frantically as she bolted through the door.

She bounces off lockers and walls through the chase of her brother’s panicking tantrum; the struggle of Jeremiah and whoever else in that fight blasts through the speakers with emphasis on the crashes, breaks, and thuds alongside the upsets of screaming. This is the first time that his outbursts have erupted into violence of this magnitude, and the first time one has been on display publicly in any sense. Damn, this is gonna embarrass him… Gen gets through the door of the dean’s office at last; she sees that Dean Breaves has his hand on the microphone button and gestures to stop, when he does stop the transmitting she goes to the truancy officer calmly. “Stop, you’re scaring him worse, officer Dupré.” The policeman tries to argue but reluctantly releases his hold of the boy.

She approaches Jay without scorn. “Jeremiah.”

No answer.

She sighs heavily and kneels down, gripping his shoulders tightly. “Jeremiah Mathias Connelly,” she says slowly, “can you hear me in there?” She looks directly at him, hands behind his back and eyes red as blood. He hasn’t pulled through the phase yet…

Gen’s voice sounds in his head. “Gen?” he panics. “Ginnifer?”

A smile paints her lips as she jerks him into a stern, loving hug. “I’m right here… You’ll be okay, Jay… I promise.”

One hand reaches behind her, asking for the key to the handcuffs; she releases him once she’s given it. And hearing the clink of metal on tile, he hugged back in fear, body shaking and muscles tensed from his street-defense skills used in the fight.

“Jay, you’re okay. No one is trying to hurt you,” she says softly, stroking his hair. “Dean, I’m going to have to ask for Jeremiah to be excused from the rest of his classes for today. I’ll catch him up at home on what he missed. Think of it as outside tutoring.” Helping him stand up, she leads Jeremiah to the door. “I’d like it if you would have your facts straight before you accuse those with high-wired feelings, this way we can avoid any sort of injuries.”

She flips open her mini-computer and pages for a cab. The intercom clicks on again. “Attention all students, the previous fighting you heard was nothing but a simulation led by our one and only Jeremiah Connelly. It was a scripted event. Carry on, now.”

Simulation my ass, Jay thought angrily, his eyes turning red as brimstone.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s