The Downside Of Loving The Written Word Part Two | Teen Ink

The Downside Of Loving The Written Word Part Two

May 30, 2010
By NicAliceF GOLD, Tacoma, Washington
NicAliceF GOLD, Tacoma, Washington
12 articles 1 photo 34 comments

Favorite Quote:
There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.
Ernest Hemingway

I was naked, emotionally. All of those brick walls I put up had crumbled down and I was out in the open once again. I sat at the booth, hands and arms wrapped around the bag tightly. Any moment now and he’d be here. Any moment now and the son of two of the greatest hunters would walk through the door.
I’m going to puke. I thought. He’s going to walk in here and I’m going to puke.
I’d been waiting for this for a long time- six months actually. For me, that’s awhile. Once I’d finished the books I knew they’d never show their faces again. Once I finished I knew it would be him now.
Oh my god. I could hardly stand sitting here and waiting. Where was he? Eyes on the door to the diner I knew it was only a matter of mere minutes until he opened that door and walked in. I’d probably go rigid and forget to breathe, skin heating and cheeks blushing.
I knew what he looked like and man, if I may say so, Luke and Richelle had made one pretty kid.
I’d been writing about Brian Samuels for some time now and I knew his habits and the way he acted, I knew his train of thought and what he liked and didn’t like. I could easily explain that his hands were always leisurely at three and seven o’clock on the steering wheel when he drove. I could tell you that his reaction time, unlike others at three fourths of a second was somewhere around one fourth. I could also tell you that out of every character I’ve met so far, every person I’ve brought to life, Brian Samuels was the only one I wanted in mine.
Everyone else was too perfect, too great for me. But Brian, Brian was just right. He kept what his father gave him- that thick brown hair and grey eyes, his mother’s smooth skin and sarcastic tongue. This hunter was a mixture of my two favorite people, but just enough to be able to stand.
If I could, I knew I’d spend my entire life with this kid. It didn’t help much that he was only a couple of years older than me.
I saw him before he even thought about me. I knew he was here before he even started to look for me. Brian pulled open the door to the diner, letting in a gust of cold air. It was March, and it was Washington- there was nothing else to expect.
“Oh great,” I muttered, spying his clothing.
White t-shirt, blue jeans, one of his father’s leather jackets.
I think I literally started to sweat just then. If it had been any other perfect stranger I probably would have turned to one of my friends and gone ‘man, hottie at twelve o’clock! Check out those arms! Fwah, what a fittie!’
But he wasn’t any other perfect stranger. He wasn’t any other boy for me to look at.
He was Brian Samuels, son of Luke Samuels and Richelle Carmichael, godson of Oliver Stokes. He had descended from THE hunters and he lived up to it quite nicely.
His eyes swept past me as he searched the diner, no doubt looking for his lunch date. I wasn’t surprised. I thought about waving him over but decided against it. Brian leaned over to talk to the cashier and I looked out the window pointedly as she cast me out as the woman he was looking for.
Woman, he was probably thinking. Ha.
At five six with a pixie cut that made me look like G.I Jane, dark jeans and a low-cut black v-neck, I was the epitaph of freaks. Most of the time I look like a British rock star of the male variety or, as my brother in law stated ‘like the eighties threw up on you’. It wasn’t my fault-that’s what happens when you’ve got C cups and you shave all of the hair off of your head.
I took a deep, shuddering breath as Brian approached my booth at the back of the diner. I’d specifically chosen this spot because I could see everything that was going on in the diner and in the parking lot. That and no one was behind me. I didn’t like people behind me, staring at me when I couldn’t see them.
I swallowed hard and looked up at him. My god he was tall! My hands, clammy, released their tight hold on the bag and I tried to relax.
“Are you Nic Alice?” He asked, smiling.
“Yes.” I said, shaking his hand.
“Nice to meet you.” He said politely and I took another deep breath as he sat down across from me, removing his jacket.
Oh don’t-
But it was already off and now I had a perfect view of his gorgeous arms in that short sleeved white t-shirt.
This was the point where I was swearing internally. Now it was very possible that I was about to either A)Kick myself while trying to put my foot in my mouth or B)Slam my head repeatedly into the table until I woke up from this dream.
I let go of the bag all together and moved it off of my lap and onto the seat next to me.
“So,” I said. “I’m not really sure how to start-” I paused, catching a glimpse of those grey eyes. They made me think of the one time I’d written myself into a piece, and shuddered.
Too personal.
Brian was sitting comfortably, hands on the table. He didn’t look as nervous as I; in fact he was hardly nervous as all. There was a confident calamity about him that I envied.
I swallowed hard again and took a drink of my water.
“Okay,” I said, trying really hard not to look past his face. “I know how this conversation is going to end, but I’m having a hard time starting it, so here.” I took the bag, a small leather knapsack, and handed it to him over the table. Brian took it, looking curious. “That’s everything you’ll undoubtedly want to know. All of it. Every last bit.”
All three novels I’d written on his parents and Oliver. Copies of all of the notebooks I’d had on them, the notes and sketches, the tidbits I’d written on my papers in class. It was all there.
“Alright,” He said, setting it down beside him.
I felt like I needed to get up and run. Run out of this diner and never look back.
“Are you hungry?” He asked, picking up a menu. “I’m starving. I could eat…well analogies aside, I could eat a sh** load.”
I smirked.
“Um, yeah.” I was hungry. I hadn’t prepared for this though. I picked up the menu and browsed. I’d been at the Browns Point diner many times, seeing as it was minutes away from home. They had good food and I enjoyed it. A classic diner, BP was once named Archie’s and serves as the local food joint for seniors citizens after church and kids after school.
I figured I’d get the French dip. I liked roast beef and had enough cash to cover it without spending my money for Half Price Books later.
The waitress returned. I recognized her from the high school I’d gone to before School of The Arts, but couldn’t remember her name and knew she didn’t know me. We ordered and she left, giving Brian a smile and a look over.
Now that made me want to puke. It was like déjà vu. What was it with us two and waitresses?
“You okay?” He asked, eyeing me across the table.
“Yeah,” I lied. “I’m fine.”
I’d encountered a similar situation in a passage of written word that involved both he and I and it was excruciating to see it pan out in front of my face.
It was silent for a moment.
“Well I can’t say I’m not surprised,” he said honestly. “I expected someone different.”I started to twirl the little gold opal ring on my finger under the table, nodding.
“That’s fine.” I said.
“I most definitely didn’t expect someone my age. I figured you’d be…”
“Different?” I offered hopefully. How unusual considering usually people were the ones called me different.
“Sure.” He said and smiled. “I don’t mean to be forward…But how old are you?”
“I’m sixteen.” I said, trepid.
The last time I’d told a hot guy I was only sixteen, he stopped talking to me and went onto hit on my older sister.
Brian looked surprised.
“Wow, you don’t…”
“Look it?” I asked, surprised. He nodded. “Um, thank you.”
Yeah, that totally went to my head considering it came from someone that was almost five years older than me.
“So how come you’re not in school?”
“Spring break.” I murmured. “We have two weeks while the other schools have one.”
“Listen, Brian,” I said suddenly, and paused. Oh man, he really was beautiful wasn’t he? I stared down at the table, unable to look at him, feeling my cheeks glowing red again. “I...I really don’t know what to tell you. It’s doubtful that I’m going to be able to hold a normal conversation with you. I might as well throw that out there.”
“Okay,” He said easily and smiled.
“Be warned I tend to kick myself in the face with my foot.”
He chuckled and I almost jumped. Was he laughing at me?
“Am I that intimidating, or are you just really all that much freaked out?”
“Dude, you’re my character. You’re the son of two of the three hunters. Of course I’m freaking out.” I couldn’t control it, here it comes. Foot, meet mouth. “I’m having a hard time sitting here with you and not screaming my freakin’ brains out. No offense.”
Though I wouldn’t be surprised if he WAS offended.
“I mean, I freaked out when I met your parents in my room. I tried to convince myself they weren’t real. And when you contacted me and said you wanted to know about the books I wrote on”
Calm wasn’t coming and that meant I was going to have to go find it.
I forced myself to look up into his eyes because my heart was going too fast and I was afraid I’d die without seeing them one last time. I couldn’t be here. Suddenly panic was deep in my throat and it was raging to burst out in a scream. My feet were ready to run.
“It’s very nice to meet you Brian Samuels.” I took my wallet out, wanting to bail, and threw down some money for the sandwich I was never going to see.
But I didn’t care- I was freaking out and pretty sure that if I started hyperventilating, I was going to have an asthma attack.
“I’m so sorry,” I apologized, grabbing my backpack. “It was a pleasure meeting you.”
And then I ran. I didn’t even fast walk. I pulled my backpack over my shoulder and sprinted out of the diner, shoving open the door and booking it across the parking lot. I didn’t even know where I was going, but I had to get out of there.
Forget trying to tell myself that my characters weren’t real- Brian was about as real as it got. And when you can’t tell fantasy from reality, I told myself. You gotta problem muchacho.
It started to rain and I swore, slowing to a jog. Man, this sucked.
It’s okay, I could walk up Slayden- I’d make it home in a little bit. But there was a good chance, with the way it was pouring down now, that I’d be soaked by the time I got there. I trudged up the muddy street towards Slayden road on the hill, wrapping my arms around myself to stay warm.
Dude, you’ve reached a new level of freakiness today. I thought. I think it’s time to throw in the towel and do normal teen things.
I didn’t look up, too busy being angsty with myself, as a green Ford Mustang Bullitt slowed to a roaring crawl beside me.
“Kid,” He called out the passenger window, rolling it down. “The wind and rain is going to freakin’ wash you away. You don’t stand a chance out there-you’ll end up in Gig Harbor if it starts blowing too hard.”
“Ha-ha.” I grumbled and not being able to help myself, snuck a look at the car.
For a moment I forgot about the gorgeous guy driving and looked at that car.
Three hundred and fifteen horses under that hood that would emit three hundred and twenty-five pounds of torque a foot from that hearty four-point-six liter V8 engine. Using a Tremec TR3650 five speed manual transmission with a more aggressive rear axle ratio and improved suspension, the Ford Bullitt, (clearly marked with its dark highland green color) is the reincarnation of Steve McQueen’s baby.
“Come on, I’ll give you a lift.”
I thought about saying no, but couldn’t resist. Either way, I was killing my sanity. Getting in the car would just be more pleasurable. What a beauty.
I carefully opened the passenger side door and slid inside. It was warm in the car and comfortable.
“No problem.” He said. “You’re not going to run away again are you?”
I blushed furiously as he chuckled.
“Sorry, this is a little hard for me.” I said, thought about adding that’s what she said, and controlled myself.
He continued up Slayden road, smiling. The inside of his car smelt good, like the fresh air in an evergreen forest.
My curiosity got the better of me and I looked around the car. I knew that underneath the seat I was sitting on was a fold out compartment full of knives, that in the back the long seat folded out to Richelle’s bow and arrows, another crossbow, a rifle and a two shotguns, one with a sawed off barrel. The backs of the seats held an array of hand guns and below the driver’s seat was Luke’s personal favorites.
His silver Colt 1911 with pearl grips and a Baretta handgun chambered for 9mm bullets. A silver switch blade (butterfly knife), some brass knuckles, a flask of holy water and a long silver machete with a worn leather handle.
But none of that was visible. What I could see was a black North Face backpack with a Hewett Packard laptop sticking out of it, a dirty rag covered in car grease and some assorted trash. The leather knapsack I’d given him was sitting in the back as well.
For a car owned by a man, this was considerably clean.
I took a deep breath and tried to calm myself. Brian Samuels was Luke’s son and he was real. I could make this work, right? I could help him find out about his parents-I could tell him what I knew of ‘my characters’.
“Thanks for meeting me.” He said and smiled. “Even if it’s bad for your sanity.”
“Yeah, sure.” I said.
But I spooked myself, I was in a hunter’s car and I couldn’t help but think of how he spent his days and nights-hunting the damned, the supernatural. I jinxed it.
I wondered vaguely, if there was so much fire power under the hood and beneath the seats....what was in the trunk?
Brian smiled and I knew I’d gotten myself into something much more than lunch. Hunters were dangerous. They weren’t dangerous just because of their strength, but of what followed them, what they hunted. I glanced out the back window of the Bullitt and could see change forming as the rain poured upon the winding, darkening road.
Someone was watching and in befriending Brian Samuels I’d just pasted a target on the back of my own head.

The author's comments:
I tried to convince myself that my characters weren't real but I was wrong. Once The Hunter's Three saga was done, their son appeared and there was nothing I could do to keep him away...

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This article has 13 comments.

Lorelei SILVER said...
on Sep. 6 2012 at 2:57 pm
Lorelei SILVER, Newport News, Virginia
9 articles 0 photos 56 comments

Favorite Quote:
"Nothing is ever easy"- Zeddicus Zul Zorander, copied by Richard Rahl

It's nothing you need to fix; I'm just a little confused as to how this situation is set up. As in: how did the characters come to life? Did 'you' (in the story) create them somehow? Were they always real and the writing drew them to 'you'  or something? That's mostly it. I'm also curious about the hunter story, but I figure that'll be explained on its own as the story flows

NicAliceF GOLD said...
on Jul. 22 2012 at 4:31 pm
NicAliceF GOLD, Tacoma, Washington
12 articles 1 photo 34 comments

Favorite Quote:
There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.
Ernest Hemingway

What confused you? I'd love to know so I can fix it. :)


on Jan. 28 2012 at 5:51 pm
Silencewillfall PLATINUM, Blacksburg, Virginia
37 articles 0 photos 10 comments

Favorite Quote:
"I think we should put some mountains here, otherwise what are the charecters going to fall off of."
-Laurie Anderson

I really love your style of writing. This is such a cool concept and you're really executing it well. Are you going to write more in this storyline? If so, I can't wait to read them!

Lorelei SILVER said...
on Jan. 11 2012 at 4:57 pm
Lorelei SILVER, Newport News, Virginia
9 articles 0 photos 56 comments

Favorite Quote:
"Nothing is ever easy"- Zeddicus Zul Zorander, copied by Richard Rahl

I think this is great, but I'm slightly confused.

on Jun. 13 2011 at 12:43 pm
Alice_in_Wonderland GOLD, San Clemente, California
16 articles 0 photos 620 comments

Favorite Quote:
“I could give up, I could stay stuck, or I could move on, So I put one foot front of the other, No no no nothing’s gonna break my stride, “ –David Archuleta (The Other Side of Down)

Great job! I loved it. Let me know when you write more stories. Thanks and also would you mind reading  some of my stories? :)

123Dean11 said...
on Jun. 1 2011 at 4:01 pm
Hey! This is why you dont pop stories out like you do zits....Its not junk or easy its art and it takes have a talent...relax!

ChristinaK said...
on Dec. 28 2010 at 7:59 pm
ChristinaK, Holly, Michigan
0 articles 0 photos 5 comments
 have read this about 10 times over and I still can't get over how amazing it is! Please write more!

NicAliceF GOLD said...
on Oct. 18 2010 at 8:08 pm
NicAliceF GOLD, Tacoma, Washington
12 articles 1 photo 34 comments

Favorite Quote:
There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.
Ernest Hemingway

Haha, I wish I was!

Thank you very much, I'm glad you enjoyed them.:)

NicAliceF GOLD said...
on Oct. 18 2010 at 8:07 pm
NicAliceF GOLD, Tacoma, Washington
12 articles 1 photo 34 comments

Favorite Quote:
There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.
Ernest Hemingway

I've been trying to, but it has to be just right. I've started multiple 'possible novels' but none have turned out to be the right flavor.

I'll get it soon.:) Thank you for the support.

NicAliceF GOLD said...
on Oct. 18 2010 at 8:05 pm
NicAliceF GOLD, Tacoma, Washington
12 articles 1 photo 34 comments

Favorite Quote:
There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.
Ernest Hemingway

Thank you very much!

I'm hoping to go to college for writing- it really is my greatest passion.:)

on Sep. 9 2010 at 7:23 pm
__horizon133 PLATINUM, Portage, Michigan
26 articles 0 photos 231 comments

Favorite Quote:
"laugh, and the world laughs with you. laugh hysterically, and for no apparent reason, and they will leave you alone." anonymous

okay, you HAVE to make this a series. this stuff is awsome.

on Jul. 5 2010 at 9:51 am
Otherworldly GOLD, Mississauga, Other
16 articles 4 photos 3 comments

Favorite Quote:
"You call on one wolf you invite the pack,"

Omg your awsome. you should seriously be paid to write, hun. I just love your writing. This piece is so creative.!!!!!!=)

korhel said...
on Jun. 13 2010 at 6:51 am
korhel, Rockhampton, Other
0 articles 0 photos 46 comments

Favorite Quote:
"I wish I had the guts to walk away and forget about you... But I can't because I know you won't come after me... And that's what hurts the most."

I love your writing! I have read both and they are both AWESOME! Why arent you in the magazine yet?!?! Lol, anyways, good job=]