jamesxman
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This is a short story on which I worked for a project in 9th Grade English class. I never finished it and do not intend on doing so. I just want to get a critique or two, comments, etc. so I can adjust and improve my writing style. Here is chapter 1. I will post more upon request, should there be any. So far, I have only completed 5 chapters.
BACK STORY(I was going to have a prologue in here, but I lost it when my old computer got a virus. That is also why I lost chapters 6-9); Musleh is a Muslim boy from Iraq. His leg is injured due to a car bond that went off right in front of his house (he and his little brother were right next to the window). In the same bombing, his brother was killed. His parents took him to America to protect him, and home schooled him until he was old enough to go to high school. I can't recall what grade he's in (keep in mind I wrote this as just a project two years ago) during this story. Oh, and when he was in Iraq, his father taught him about Medieval Europe and the knights during that time. He became infatuated with the idea of a code of honor, the Code of Chivalry. After his brother died, he adapted it to modern times. This is his attempt to teach this new Code to a boy who was thought to be morally lost.
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Chapter 1
“Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.”
“I told you, that’s all of the money I got!”
“Well, then I’m gonna have to mark you down for an extra payment tomorrow, aren’t I? With interest, of course,” Harold condescended. With a wave of his hand as he turned away, he said “You can go, but remember what you owe me tomorrow.”
The boy made his way to the exit in a manner that would have onlookers believe he was smuggling cocaine. “Next,” the shrill voice of a stout minion called as he guided the next urinal occupant (who was not quite finished) into the stall in which his boss sat.
“I thought I’d played you for the entire month last week?” the boy wondered as he yanked the last portion of his zipper closed.
“You did, but I’m going to need someone to pick up the slack left behind by Mister Thompson,” he gestured with his eyebrows, as if offering the position to his cronies, but it seemed they weren’t particularly interested in lending the extra cash. “Even if he is making up for it tomorrow, there is still need for it today.”
“Why do you need all of this money today? You’ve collected more than just lunch money,” the boy, who had gained a bit of confidence, stated in a slight tone of aggression. This tone is not recommended when dealing with Harold.
“You hear too much…”
“How could I not hear it? I was just over th-” the boy began with a questioning look on his face.
“I have some school supplies that need replacement. As it turns out, a ruler can only be used to put someone in their place so many times…” he trailed off, hoping the now cowering heap of misery before him would understand.
With a gulp, the boy tore through his pockets and withdrew a nickel and a couple of pennies. With a distasteful nod, Harold accepted the payment and motioned for his denim clad minion to escort the boy to the door. As the door shut, Harold let out a sigh of relief. The day’s business was done with and he could go on with whatever the day threw at him; all, of course, after he actually put the stall in which he sat to use. With a nod to his peers, he lifted his behind just enough to lift the toilet’s cover.
After wiping his behind with the last of the provided paper, Harold exited the stall and proceeded to wash his hands. As he turned to pull a paper towel from its dispenser, he caught a glance of the new kid. Standing in silence and summing him up, Harold perceived that this kid was about his own age and somewhat muscular. Stepping forward with a used paper towel in one fist, Harold strode over to the boy and remarked “You’re the new kid; Muslim or Mussel or something like that, right?”
Not looking up, he replied “Musleh, but close enough.” In a swift motion, he attempted to maneuver past Harold in order to access the towel dispenser, only to be blocked abruptly. Musleh, knowing full well what was happening, kept posture and stared Harold in the eyes with a look that said “Get on with it.”
“You obviously don’t know how things work around here. You see, I have a bathroom tax that you gotta pay in order to use the bathroom,” he explained, as though Musleh were a mentally deficient child. “Now, because you are new and probably don’t speak good English I’m gonna let you go, but for future reference, using the bathroom costs fifty cents. Capiche?” Musleh considered what he had just heard with care whilst gazing off into space.
“I think I do ‘capiche’ the part about you letting me off of the hook this time,” Musleh ventured, keeping his eyes fixed on the imaginary point of interest and gradually shifting it to Harold’s face. “But don’t the taxes pay for the restroom’s services? Do they not pay for all of the facilities in, as well as, a public school?”
Taken somewhat aback by this question, Harold looked around and gestured as though it were obvious (which it was). “Well... uh… what?”
“You know, you hear about and see stuff like this on the television and whatnot, but you figure it’s just too cliché to be true,” he pondered as his gaze trailed once again away from Harold. “Answer me this; how would you like it if you had to pay each time you used the restroom?”
“Well, that’s not the way it is, so I don’t really have to worry about that,” Harold explained with diminishing patience.
“Well, that’s hardly fair, is it?” Musleh asked with his eyes finally making their way back to Harold. “Well, life ain’t fa-” Harold started.
“Uh-huh, yeah. Listen; the only people who say that are those who use it to their advantage. If life isn’t fair, then you should do what you can to change that,” Musleh said with an increasingly dark tone.
“Wh… bu…” Harold stuttered in an attempt to comprehend what had been said. Never before had Harold heard such a response to the saying that he basically built his life around. He assumed saying that would usually win you the debate or discussion, but this foreign kid had turned it all on its ear.
Satisfied that his remark had done its job, Musleh took his leave, only to be halted by a recently recovered Harold. “What’s this about? The argument is mine.”
“All the same, I’d like to revoke my offer; hand over your lunch money.”
“Hmmm… How about… ‘no’?” Musleh asked in a clearly sarcastic tone. Sweeping his cane across the floor, he knocked Harold off of his feet and onto the tiled floor of the restroom. “Now, would you mind surrendering your lunch money?”
“And why would I do that?” Harold asked, propping himself up on his forearms.
“Well, you ask people to give you money, so it’s only fair that you give yours,” he replied, poking Harold in the chest with the butt of his cane to push him on his back.
“You’re gonna pay for this. Dearly.”
“I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it. But for now, I’ll take that money.”
“What do you intend to do with it?” He emptied his pocket and surrendered the money he had just collected.
“I suppose the right thing to do would be to give to those from which it was taken, so that’s what I’ll do,” Musleh pondered, snatching the money he was being “offered”.
As Musleh shoved the money into his pocket and walked away, Harold got up and smoothed out his jacket. Harold assumed the confrontation to be over, but as Musleh grabbed the doorknob he turned his head and said, “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. That is one of the rules of chivalry, and is why I acted as I did. I conduct myself by the rules, and I’m certain this will not be the last of them that you hear. See you in fifth period.” With that he opened and passed through the door, leaving Harold alone with his thoughts.
< Message edited by jamesxman -- 10/24/2010 18:15:53 >
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