This is an entirely different concept. Time to follow a story that has no end unless by accident.
This is a spontaneous novel written without any plan or prediction. It will have core characters that will evolve into their own entities…
Come with me and explore extemporaneous writing for the thrill of a literary lifetime..
Just comment what you would like to happen next…get involved with the plot firsthand. All credits to participants. all rights reserved.
“Children Of The Revolution” Chapter One.
Summer of 1976. Fornham All Saints Upper School. Suffolk, England Avenue 9.30.am
Sean Hastings, was not the average boy. Neither, was he treated as one. He knew he was different, and destined for great piety. Sean, stared outside his bedroom window, into the grey morning. His street was no different than any other Monday morning. The clank and rumble of a dustcart, crackled its reverse warning. A dog barked, pointlessly. A lone cabby, smoked impatiently, waiting for his customer. A builder, struggled to start a cement mixer, and cursed loudly. Two young women, running for a bus, twittered to each-other, and scurried past the building site, blushing, as they received cheers of approval and wolf whistles. A stooped old lady, waddled gingerly, up to the cab driver, as he stomped on his cigarette, and opened the door for her.
The bus belched diesel smoke and crunched its gears to find forward motion. The girls waved at the builders, giggling, from a grease streaked bus window.
Sean watched an overweight man rushing for the bus, stuffing a half eaten sandwich into his mouth, as he grabbed the pole to mount the bus in time. His newspaper failed to catch the bus, and left the underneath of his arm, scattering it pages in the road, and then with some elegance, flew skyward, twirling like a flock of seagull-like sports headlines, only to land at the feet of 2 boys, who looked up at Sean.
They were smiling and in odd clothes. They were all in brown serge. Like a uniform.
They just pointed and waved. Sean waved back.
Suddenly, a screeching noise broke the silence. It was „Jay Jay‟, his jackdaw. The bird swooped onto the window sill, with a loud squawk.
Sean rescued a half eaten cereal bar from his pocket, and with his palm filled with crumbs, outstretched his hand. Jay Jay, jumped onto his wrist, and pecked hungrily, at the free breakfast, until it was gone, and then flew off.
Sean smiled, and then looked at his wristwatch. It was time to head for school.
He looked down in the street, and the strangely dressed boys had gone.
Sean was not good mixer.
To the contrary, he was taught from an early age, “friendship with the world meant enmity with God,” and so as far as being a candidate, for social acceptance, that just was not an option. Forced, to be a loner, to comply with his Mother‟s wishes, and that of the Almighty, had him outnumbered. Going to school, outflanked by bullies, was an issue, but he could deal with that. What he couldn‟t handle, was seeing his parents, destroy each other. He loved them, but they were unaware of the dangerous monster they had created within him.
At fifteen years of age, Sean was diagnosed, with a form of adolescent psychosis. After, electric shock therapy, and mismanaged treatment he was left prone to paranoia. He was a low level schizophrenic, with a multi-personality disorder.
He heard voices. He knew exactly, where they came from. It was, his friend „Josh,‟ who got him through his hell, where the medication failed too. Josh, had gotten him out of many scrapes, and near misses. Josh was cool, dressed in scruffy clothes, grubby, and barefoot. He smoked, and swore, a lot. He spoke, softly, in a strange American voice, and, looked like he could do with a good meal. He knew lots of tricks, and japes. He had petrol blue eyes, that would turn black, when he wanted Sean, „to do something important‟. That part, scared Sean, but usually his ideas worked out, for the best. He would start to speak like Josh, and do what Josh wanted, if he got into a fix. Sean understood Josh, and Josh understood him. They were a great team, and they were able to accomplish anything, together.
Whether, he liked it or not, short of running away, or being airlifted out of the country, by the Red Cross, nothing would stop „the voices‟. He didn‟t want them to stop. He was, one of, „the chosen ones‟. Nothing would ever change that. His strict upbringing, and family regimes at home, had cramped his style, to the point of asphyxiation. This was not the real life. This was a „holding camp, for the Greater Life‟. Inconvenient, as it was, but necessary. Apart from Josh, his Rubik cube, was his only friend, and he could master the puzzle in a record, 27 seconds.
Puzzles were, his life. And, life was a puzzle. His grades seemed easy, to get. School, as he soon discovered, was a haven for cloaking abuse, on all sides. Hostility, of every kind, and each day, was a struggle to survive the conflicts, let alone, warm to the hard bitten clan of teachers, who masquerade as his guides, for a happy and successful future. He was, a master of disguise. This ability, gave him the tools to dupe his enemies. He was a chameleon, and talented mimic. He knew how to distract and confuse. Josh was always there to help him, get what he wanted. He had known him, since he was little, and saved his life, more than once.