Sweet Nothings

As a student of my school's 'Advanced Creative Writing' class, I had to write a short story about anything I wanted. I wanted to write a zombie story, but I got a little carried away in the set-up that I ran out of room to write the rest. Here's about 2/3's of it, just for fun.

The door squealed as Shawn McCloud pushed the door shut. “Crappy house,” he thought to himself as he stomped across the floor before taking off his combat boots and heading into the kitchen. School was a total bore that day. Pre-calculus passed without snags, but English was less than unbearable. Elections for student body were coming up and the know-it-alls and hallway-royals were excited as bugs in a frying pan; practically clamoring over each other to rule the school. Shawn didn’t see what the big commotion was about for being a student officer; they never actually had control over what the school did, it was only something to brag about on college applications. Shawn opened the fridge to grab a coke and sit down on the beat up lay-z-boy. He tried not to think of college; his life dream was to attend a university and become a graphic novelist, but he didn’t have enough money to even buy lunch everyday. His parents worked around the clock. His father sat in cubicles all day hunched over paperwork and his mother slaved away as a seamstress for the local theater, which regularly showcased kitschy performances of Beauty and the Beast, Cinderella, and Grease. He could stand the last one, but all of those fairy tale stories were so happy that it made his stomach hurt. He just didn’t understand how people could be so cheery all the time. Take Joanna D. as an example. Everyday, she parades into school, looking like a starlet; designer bag, flawless makeup, the works. She was the embodiment of excellence; the senior class president. Her runner-up for the position was a perfectionist named Becky Azail. She was second best to Joanna in almost everyway; clothes bought for under $100, vice president, horrible eyesight, and a short temper. The good thing about Joanna was that even though you knew she was fake, she was still one of the nicest girls at school; always pretending to like everyone and everything. Becky was manageable for the most part, but she was so assertive at times that she pushed away many of the people that would have voted for her as president.

Shawn sat in silence, drinking Coke, fiddling with the whistle he wore around his neck, and thinking about where he could find a job. Though he couldn’t go to college, he could still try to get a comic published. He just needed enough money to buy supplies. Pens, tracing papers, light boxes, the prices really add up. He needed to find a job. Shawn sighed. This was going to be very difficult, due to the fact that he was born mute.

About two hours later, Shawn had decided to apply as a stocker in a grocery store about a mile from home and three blocks from school. He hauled himself off of the chair and found his best clothes, which consisted of a gray shirt without stains, a pair of faded jeans, checkered slip-on shoes, and an olive green jacket. Without further ado, he grabbed a notebook, three pens, a sharpie, and left to the store. By the time he was halfway there, the sun started to grudgingly slide down the sky.

As he walked down the street he passed a coffee shop, gardening shop, and hair salon. Usually the lady who owned the gardening store was outside tending to the plants on display as her husband worked at the register. She wasn’t there today, even though it was quite a lovely afternoon. Puzzled, Shawn looked inside. Nobody. He shrugged his shoulders and moved on, “not my problem,” he thought. As he was approaching the grocery store he started to see more people. First it was just a few and then he started noticing clusters. It looked like families and circles of friends had pooled together to stand in from of city hall. “Not any of my business,” Shawn thought as he walked by the hordes of people to get to the store.

A fan blew warm air down his jacket as Shawn entered the store. He stood there blinking for a couple beats as he saw that there were barely any people shopping. Maybe a girl in the fresh produce area, an elder in the frozen foods isle, and two young boys in the snack section who were frantically shoving as many items into their backpacks as possible. Shawn was a bit shocked to witness such an act, but he decided to pretend like he couldn’t see it. He heard the crinkling of junk food bags being handled while he walked to the customer service desk in the back of the store. It was a quite eerie walk; there were many packages that seemed like they were knocked onto the ground in every row and there seemed to not be any signs of life. Crappy pop-rock from the 70’s was playing on the store’s ancient stereos. When he turned the last corner on his trek to the service counter he saw a girl with her elbows pointed on the top of the desk and her chin resting in her upright hands. It was Becky Azail, the senior vice president from his school. He could tell by the way she ran her left hand through her hair while leaning her head, also, to the left. He could hear her chewing her gum from15 feet away. Shawn approached the desk and Becky rang the little silver bell on the table a couple times. After her little musical adventure, she seemed to become aware that Shawn was just a few feet away and heading for her. Shawn could tell that Becky was obviously trying to be cool and confident, just like Joanna D.

“Oh. Hey, Shawn.”

Shawn merely looked at Becky, who was chewing watermelon gum and had suddenly taken interest in the tacky magazines lying on the counter. One of them had “100 Great Spring Hairstyles” in yellow letters on the cover. He knew that she knew he was deaf, but it still irritated him when people looked away before he could even attempt to vocalize a “hello.”

“Whatcha here for? Complaints? A job?”

Shawn held up two fingers, as if giving the ‘peace’ sign, hoping she was bright enough to understand what he meant.

“Applying for a job? Me too.” 39 seconds passed. “I don’t think anyone’s going to show…”

Shawn nodded his head and sighed when Becky looked at him. He turned and headed slowly for the store entrance. When he got about 10 feet from the customer service counter, a high-pitched screaming pealed through the whole store. It seemed to paralyze every movement for a split second, even though it was muted from the grocery walls. In this time, the air almost reverberated with the tension that was growing upon the scream. Shawn swung his hunched shoulders around to meet Becky’s startled frame. She looked positively cadaverous; pale and motionless. Right when their eyes met, both dashed to the front of the store, but both also stopped halfway; suddenly weary of what may have caused the wail. Neither had uttered a word and both were obviously scared of rushing into the open without any means of defense. By sheer dumb luck, the teens had happened to be running down aisle 3, which was home to various tools; including a fire axe and scythe; both of which were only available in the store due to the fact that a large portion of the population farmed). Becky saw the possible weapons first and grabbed the flaming red axe while Shawn followed her lead and picked up the scythe, which excited him greatly; he felt just like a comic book hero holding the weapon. The loudest sound besides the mediocre music was the twin breathing of the scared kids, who started for the front in unison. Both seemed to understand that having somebody, anybody, was better than nobody.

Shawn flinched the slightest bit as he stepped outside. The air felt strange. In the short amount of time that he was inside the store, the world outside seemed to change. The air was electric; terrifying. There was no one to be seen anywhere. It was utterly and completely dead quiet. The crowd of people that was clamoring in the parking lot was now gone and there were a few cars haphazardly left in the middle of intersections with broken windows. While Shawn was taking all of this in, Becky let out a small gasp. “Oh my god. There’s blood.” She pointed a shaky finger at the second closest abandoned car.

Shawn saw the blood. Tons of it. He tracked it from the window, to the pavement, to a handful of patches on the asphalt where the crowd used to be. Shawn suddenly wished that he could start yelling for help, but was almost glad that he was mute because he might not have been able to help himself. Attracting attention in a situation like this might be the last thing he’d ever do. He put his finger to his lips and silently motioned for Becky to stay quite. She responded with a ‘DUH!’ expression. Unexpectedly, she grabbed Shawn’s hand and motioned with a jerk of her head to go back into the store.

Somehow, the store seemed unaffected by the dark energy that was lingering outside. However curious he was to know what was happening to his hometown, Shawn knew that now was not the time. Becky had lead him all the way behind the customer service desk and crouched down. He crouched with her and grabbed his notebook, which had been safely tucked away in an inner pocket of his coat. He started scribbling something down.

Sweet Nothings

7.02.2009

How to whiten teeth at home w/o fancy materials.

6.30.2009

How to keep makeup on oily skin.

6.02.2009

Dead Quiet part 1

5.10.2009

Movie Review: X-men Origins: Wolverine

5.09.2009

Brainstorming...

Introductions.

Red Diesel

Blog Archive

About Me

Followers