Sci-Fi and Other Projects

I have a few projects to finish this summer:

1. First Generation, a curriculum I have been writing. I have quite a bit of it done, but I need to collaborate with the producers to get some missing parts--and then I need to do the Michael Shaw jazz-up on it to make it creative-er.

2. My dad's stories. I am helping him compile them this summer. I am eager to sort through the stories and pull them together for him.

3. Nedge 2. I think it is time to pen the second book of Nedge. I have a rough outline that I will work on this week and then we'll see what comes of it.

4. Sci-Fi. I have been working on this YA Sci-Fi story for a few months. It is one of those stories where I am letting it come out on its own. I think it would be a good 9th grade read, but I need inspiration to continue. Perhaps it will become my summer story. So, in order to get psyched-up to write more, I'll post a small excerpt from it. This part happens somewhere around page three or four...


Enjoy... (or not)

I was thirteen years old when I was made an Independent, just like the rest of the Community Members. The air was cold and damp with fog as I walked through the streets. I wore my long black pants which scraped against the asphalt as I shuffled along. Though I tried to walk slowly, the journey to the center of the city seemed to take half the time it usually took. The moments you dread tend to come faster than the ones you hope for.

I remember arriving at the Central Lawns, a vast open space with green grass and play structures left over from the early two-thousands when kids used to play outdoors. Crowds gathered early that morning, all of them hushed waiting for the Parting to take place.

The Community regularly attended Partings as it was considered an important civic duty. I had attended a few dozen or so, but never had it been so real to me.

Once a few of the Community members realized I had arrived I heard a hushed whisper spread through the group. The faceless crowd started looking in my direction, now silent and expectant. So as I walked the only sound I heard was the sloshing and crunching of the grass beneath my feet.

I walked alone through the sea of people, my voice silent, my eyes staring fixedly at the large stage that had been set out for my Parting. Step after step, the people parted as I approached the stage.

When I reached the stage, my body paused as my mind caught up with the rest of me. I had arrived. This was my last moment of childhood. I was ready to move on, to become an adult.  As I stood on the grass, I remember looking up the seven steps. They were no different than any other steps, but to me they were a mountain and I was just a child.

I forced my legs to move against their will, to take the first step to my Parting. My gray boots seemed heavier as I forced them into submission, climbing each stair with great effort. I gripped the banister with gritted teeth and stepped onto the translucent acrylic stage.

It was like walking on air. My body seemed to float above the Community as a sea of eyes watched my every move. Then the powerful 600 watt stage lights clicked on. They shone down upon me and the heat from their beams press against me. I looked back to where I stood just seconds before, but the light, so brilliantly bright made the rest of the world look like a dark blur.

My eyes attempted to squint into the crowd that I had just past through. But the crowd’s faces seem to vanish into that gray haze. Why hadn’t I looked to see if there was anyone I knew standing before me? I felt so alone on that stage. But I figured this was the point of the Parting.

I looked to the center of the stage where, waiting for me in the exact middle, was one of the Officials of the Community. He stood five inches taller than me at six-foot three, and was dressed in his traditional cerulean robes. He donned a superficial smile and with curt nods of his head, he gestured to the crowd who had stared to press closer to the stage.

I remember keeping my hands in my pockets as the people’s faces, the ones who stood in the front of the crowd, came better into focus: All of them strangers. Yet, the faces of those who stood there haven’t vanished from my memory. The entire group eagerly awaited my every move, my every word, my every stumble. The strangers nodded their heads approvingly and smiled blank, absent-minded grins in my direction.

There was a long pause that followed my arrival on the stage. All was silent except for the hushed hum of the stage lights which continued to grow in heat. I felt as though I had stood up there for two or three hours in total silence, but I’m sure it was more like ten or fifteen seconds. Silence has a way of tricking us into thinking time has stood still.

But then, just as I had started to grow content in the silence, the Official gave a low cough, stuffed his white gloved hand in his robe pocket, and retrieved a yellow card. I remembered my lessons from school. This was my cue to walk over to him.

I stepped closer.

He put his arm around my shoulder as if he were an old friend, though I had never seen this particular Official in my life. He smiled a vacant, politician smile at me and darted his eyes back at his note card.

“Cavin Summers,” he said, projecting his voice into the crowd. I looked over and saw my name had been neatly typed onto the card. “On your thirteenth birthday, Cavin, we bestow upon you this clock as a sign of your Independence.” He motioned at the clock that sat upon his acrylic podium. “Let this clock serve as a reminder to you that Time will always move on. And, as Time moves on, so should you. Keep it always in your possession as a reminder of this auspicious day, the day of your Parting and the day of your Independence.”

I responded mechanically, “I will cherish it always and keep this solemn vow: I will always move on.” Then, taking my hands out of my pockets, I picked up the cold metal clock and held it in my left hand as the tradition dictated.

“Cavin Summers, do you vow to be a representative for the Business? Supporting it, working for it as it provides for your welfare? Do you promise to work to pay back your debt that you incurred as a young boy?”

I knew there was no other choice. The Business had provided everything for us. Bread, chocolate, pills, clothing, shelter, parents, education—everything came from the Business. I needed them.

“I will work, all the days of my life, to pay my debt.”

“Then, Cavin Summers, on behalf of the Business and the other Officials of the Community, I declare you an Independent.”

The lights flashed off. I’m not sure they were supposed to, but they did. I saw the crowd that had gathered before me. There were hundreds. The entire crowd applauded approvingly as I followed the script and tradition of the Parting perfectly. But amid the din of applause and the sea of smiles, I saw a face quite unlike the others come into my hazy view. It was a face I recognized. Standing right off to the side, next to a group of strangers, I saw her. [I took out the person's name, just because I am not sure I want to reveal that online]

She stood there looking back at me. The rules of the Parting stated she shouldn’t have been allowed to be there, but she was there. I caught only a glimpse of her face, but it forever has been etched in my memory. Her eyes were somehow wider than usual, red with some sort of emotion. Her face devoid of color.  As I looked at her, her lips noiselessly formed the syllables of my name, “Cavin.”

And that’s when I saw it. Right before the lights flashed back on and the crowd grew hazy, I saw the look that has since haunted me. It was the look [she] gave me, as though she was trying to tell me something.  It was something in her cheeks, or her face, or her eyes—it must have been something in her eyes—well, whatever it was, it was something.