http://www.youngwritersonline.net/
It is a great help because it lets young people read and critique your work...
By the way I have pretty much rewritten alot of my work... Also I have written a short story for a contest, I will be posting that. It is ( or will be ) called 'I Died This Year'
Here is the second chapter of The Freefalling Of Dreams... (also check out the page to view the rest that I have posted)
Chap. 2
“I'm home,” Daniel yelled, as he stepped into the front room.
There was silence as Leya followed him in.
“I brought a friend,” he continued, as he walked down the hallway.
“What!?” came a muffled voice from the basement. The thumping of footsteps followed.
As she came to the top of the stairs, Daniel saw that she had her bushy eyebrows arched in disbelief.
Without hesitation Leya walked foreword a shook her hand.
“I'm Leya,” she said.
“You can call me Mrs. Snow,” she said while stroking her double chin.
“Is it ok if Leya stays for dinner?” Daniel asked.
“Um... Sure...”
Without another word Daniel walked away, Leya following.
His room was plain, boxes decorated the floor, a single picture hung over his messy bed. A bed-side table, a desk, a chair and a cupboard were all that adorned his room.
Daniel instantly went to work, clearing first the chair, then space for sitting on his bed.
“Sit” commanded Daniel pointing to the chair, as he, himself took the bed. Leya pulled the chair closer to the bed and sat down.
“I'm glad to see that you haven't changed much, Daniel Ethan Stoeker.” Leya stated in a I-mean-business type of voice.
Daniel grimaced as he answered her, “I nearly was Daniel Anderson.”
Leya sighed, “Are you going to tell me what happen or are you just going to let me sit here?”
“I'm going to let you sit here.”
“No your not,”Leya glared at him, “ You are going to tell me, even if not willingly.”
“Oh, I sooo scared,” Daniel said in a mock horror voice.
There was silence.
“Six days ago, I came home from my friends house. As I walked down the drive-way, I felt something was wrong. And then I found them on the ground, dead.”
Daniel looked up, he saw tears glistening in her eyes and he remembered that they had been like parents to her as well.
He took her smooth hand in his and gave it a small squeeze.
“The funeral was three days ago. After that I was given the option of going back to the orphanage, or coming here. I choose the latter.”
They did not move or say anything until Mrs. Snow called for dinner. Still holding hands they got up.
Daniel pick up his fork and skewered a tomato.
“So,” came the warm voice of Mr. Snow, “today I was offered a promotion.”
Mrs. Snow gasped, “So soon?”
“Yeah, I think the Boss likes me! Well he defiantly agreed with my article on the option of better working conditions in Africa. He said I would get the fourth page.”
“He's working as a news paper editor,” Daniel explained to Leya.
“Writer,” Mr. Snow corrected with a smile.
Daniel ignored him and continued slicing his lamb chop. Each stroke of his half blunt knife seemed to strengthen his resolve of not letting them in on his life.
“Leya and I intend on going on a walk tonight,” Daniel told them.
“You do?” asked Mrs. Snow.
“We do?” Leya inquired, a smirk on her face.
“Yes, we do,” Daniel answered, while looking into Mrs. Snows eyes.
“Ok, don't be to long,” Mr. Snow said, in an easy-going maner.
Daniel got up, from the table and started to leave.
“What now?” Mrs. Snow questioned.
“Yes, of course,” He answered. “Coming Leya?” He called as he walked out the door.
He was meet by cold air.
“You know, You should not be so mean to them,” Came a voice from behind him.
He turned around and waited for her to catch up. The blue light of the moon played upon her golden hair, that a gust of wind ruffled.
“So, where are we going?” She ask.
“The park.” He said, as he started walking, reaching over and grabing her hand. He had to admit, he loved the feeling of her hand back in his. It felt as if it was meant to be there always, forever.
A car drove pass and he smiled. It was odd, he felt like he had spent so much time mourning to realise that the moon didn't die when his heart did.
A wind picked up. Concealing the remaining sound of a third pair of footsteps. Even without the wind, the sound would not have been heard by his target.
It was unfortunate that the target had chosen to take the girl with him. It meant that he would have to kill her. Not that he really cared. It would be just another pitiful human that he killed.
A car passed and as soon as it was out of sight, he started to run, fearing that he might miss his ideal opportunity.
He had caught up with then in a matter of seconds and he squared his shoulders.
“Halt,” he called out in his most authoritative voice he could manage.
The couple froze.
“I will not hurt you, if you come peacefully.”
The boy, his target, turned around, letting go of the girls hand.
With a face like iron, the boy spoke “What do you want?”
“I want you to come with me.”
“And if I don't come?” the boy asked.
“Well...” He answered as he reached inside his pocket of his cloak and pulled out a beretta.
“Give me your hands,” he said as he pulled out a pair of hand cuffs.
With his left hand clipped them on, he did not want the boy getting away.
Using the gun he hit the boy on the side of his head.
Looking up at the girl, who had been stand with a look of horror and shock on her face, he asked, “Now... What am I meant to do with you?”
-~-~-~
I am standing, alone. The baron plain on which I'm held, seemed unending. I cant move or breath. Yet amongst all odds I'm still alive, I haven't died. Tiring it is, to have lived the pains of hundreds.
The land was flat with a low lining form of wheat grow. It was slowly creeping up my bare feet.
A minuscule white dot appeared on the horizon of the wheat plain. The dot grew in size, sometimes disappearing due to hidden ridges. The ridges seemed displaced. The plain looked so perfect, but it proved, in its self, to have many uncharacteristic flaws.
When the white dot had drawn near. I recognised a humanoid form. It was clad in a elaborate white cloak. The cloak was held together with a gold pin, that took shape of a Chinese dragon.
“Lesser Daemon of Silence.” came a gravel-like voice from the hood of the cloak. “You have no right to interfere with my affair any more.”
The sound of thunder erupted into the sky, filling my ears with whispering voices that quickly left, flooding the place into silence. I found that I could once again move my mouth.
“Who are you?” I asked with a slightly bored voice, that had taken me years to perfect.
“The nightmare from hell.” The voice answered as he lent in. “The dream from heaven.” He whispered into my ear. Then he span around me so I could no longer see him.
“I'm the coarseness of a rusty sword.” He said from behind me. “Yet still as painful as the bite of a sharpened blade.”
“Show yourself.” I yelled at him when he had came back around. He reached for his golden dragon clasp, but he didn't pull it off he seemed to be debating whether or not to sow himself. The man stood in silence, I could feel his molten iron glare, burning at me with determination.
“Fine.” He answered with his deep voice. He placed his thumb on the nape of the dragon, just next to the spiral like wings. He placed his index finger on the foreleg of the dragon and pressed. A loud click fill my ears.
I opened my mouth to speak but the world went a shade of blue and I found myself unable to breath. Panic surged through my body, followed soon by adrenaline, which was waisted seen as I could not move.
The transformed plain looked like it had three pictures playing over each other, each seemed slightly tilted. The air around me lacked gravity and the plain slowly seemed to be break into little patches of earth, slowly rising and falling.
The man slowly faded into a colourless shade of blue synchronising with the world around him until he was no more. Then I heard it. The sound was so pain sickeningly quiet, but it was as though my body thrived for the sound. It was a melody, it was a song of joy entwined with the bitter sadness of hell, a heartbroken cry to the lost and unguided. The melody was alive, surrounding me with colours. Colour that were imposable, that didn't exist, it was like it play by its own rools, that no physical or mathematical term had any power over it.
The colour slowly faded out to a dull blue. Then the music surrounded me. I felt myself being lifted to space, no longer restrained to the ground. I was airborne. I felt the song's sorrow as though something evil had hurt it, I felt the compelling desire to go find that person or thing or whatever it was, but the gradually melody changed, it had sadness riddled in it, but I felt hope. A hope and a promise.
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