what do you think of this beginning? don't type " it's too long" or stuff just...
...to gain other 2 points? Chapter One – The Funeral
"He's here, He always will be". I convinced myself, knowing he was not able to hear me. It was twilight. The diffused light on the horizon reflected in the lake next to my town. It was going to rain. The puffy clouds started huddling around the sun as they refracted its light in the cold atmosphere. I had been warned. My mother had asked me to take my coat as I'd headed towards the front door, but I hadn't; I'd known I would be drenched anyway. "Tears symbolize our weakness" I claimed, so the rain could be an adequate explanation for my soggy sweater. I leaned my back against his coffin, fiddling with the wreaths my family had decorated his tombstone with. I tore the petals off the roses contemplatively as each one resembled any year I had been with him. "He will never be forgotten" I mumbled to myself. I ran my fingers across the engraved words on his marbled coffin. "Billy –Clark".
I felt a sort of thick air blowing through my veins and freezing my blood. I pulled my hand away instinctively, and stared at the acronym that was engraved as deeply into the marble as his full name was. R.I.P. Telling me what I refused to know. Billy was dead. There was no more Billy. My cheeks absorbed the tears that had been rolling down as I'd said his name. "I shouldn't be crying" I hissed to myself aggressively. Those tears reminded me the first time I had cried. Billy had been only a child at the time, and I, as usual, had defended him. "You're a true friend" he'd said and patted me on the shoulder. I still could feel his hand there. It was like it'd happened yesterday. He had glazed at me and laughed so loud that the rice he'd chewed could easily be noticed in his mouth. "What?" I had said, and turned away as I noticed his food had not been swallowed yet. "Since when do you cry?" he'd asked, following the tear I had forgotten to wipe off. I'd pulled out the sleeve of my shirt to absorb it, and said (still using it to hide my expression) "I'm not crying. Something must have been stuck in my eye…" Billy had not bought it, but it'd been so improbable that he shook his head and squinted at the next tear that appeared in the corner of my eye. "It's okay Ethan. What are you crying about?" He had hissed as he'd known it would make me embarrassed. I'd pushed up the sleeves; there had been no reason to deny it anymore. "Nothing really" I had lied.
I did not even remember why I'd cried. I just had. Billy hadn't tried to convince me to tell him. It had been pretty reasonable, because if making me admit had taken him almost two hours, knowing it would probably have taken him four. He had never known it. I hadn't thought he should. It'd not bothered him. We had just stayed what we always were. Friends. No. Not just friends. We'd been best friends. I hadn't known what it meant. Thinking if friend was more than an acquaintance. A best friend should be more than a friend-according to this theory. "What is he trying to say" I'd asked myself, knowing I could not answer it. It had always been more than just a friendship to me. A way more than that, fondling the shoulder Billy had patted me on. It'd felt weird. It had been like I enjoyed him touching me. "Stop it! You don't!" I'd convinced myself, and pulled my eyebrows together in anger, trying to ignore that feeling. "This is not normal!" I had reminded myself, looking around for an "Out of sight" place. The bathroom had seemed to be the only place secluded. Turned out it'd been full too. "God Damn it" I had hissed, clutching my hands into fists and hit the shoulder. I hadn't cried. Not as much as I had when Billy stood in front of me. "It must be because of what Billy said" I'd guessed. Billy had died before I could even think of a way to tell him what I felt.
"I'm sorry Billy" I said. My tears percolated down through the cracks in the marble, wishing he would be able to see them now.
It was midnight. "I will be back tomorrow" I hissed, and threw the rose I had been fiddling with at his coffin. He stood there, not moving an inch- waiting. I could hear it. The voice I had always recognized and responded to in any case, marching through the fire for, or even jumping off a cliff into the bottom of hell. It was him. Had it just been a dream? I wondered as my back faced his coffin. If he was really alive. What was I doing in the cemetery? I turned around and started following the sound of his voice. Maybe it was all in my mind? I asked myself doubtfully. There was the same volume in my both ears. I could not use them to find its source. The voice went louder as I approached his coffin. The odds of him being alive were ninety nine percent
"Closer" the voice commanded. I took a few steps forward, ready to "resurrect" him. I put my palms on the lid, trying to take it off with no success.
...to gain other 2 points? Chapter One – The Funeral
"He's here, He always will be". I convinced myself, knowing he was not able to hear me. It was twilight. The diffused light on the horizon reflected in the lake next to my town. It was going to rain. The puffy clouds started huddling around the sun as they refracted its light in the cold atmosphere. I had been warned. My mother had asked me to take my coat as I'd headed towards the front door, but I hadn't; I'd known I would be drenched anyway. "Tears symbolize our weakness" I claimed, so the rain could be an adequate explanation for my soggy sweater. I leaned my back against his coffin, fiddling with the wreaths my family had decorated his tombstone with. I tore the petals off the roses contemplatively as each one resembled any year I had been with him. "He will never be forgotten" I mumbled to myself. I ran my fingers across the engraved words on his marbled coffin. "Billy –Clark".
I felt a sort of thick air blowing through my veins and freezing my blood. I pulled my hand away instinctively, and stared at the acronym that was engraved as deeply into the marble as his full name was. R.I.P. Telling me what I refused to know. Billy was dead. There was no more Billy. My cheeks absorbed the tears that had been rolling down as I'd said his name. "I shouldn't be crying" I hissed to myself aggressively. Those tears reminded me the first time I had cried. Billy had been only a child at the time, and I, as usual, had defended him. "You're a true friend" he'd said and patted me on the shoulder. I still could feel his hand there. It was like it'd happened yesterday. He had glazed at me and laughed so loud that the rice he'd chewed could easily be noticed in his mouth. "What?" I had said, and turned away as I noticed his food had not been swallowed yet. "Since when do you cry?" he'd asked, following the tear I had forgotten to wipe off. I'd pulled out the sleeve of my shirt to absorb it, and said (still using it to hide my expression) "I'm not crying. Something must have been stuck in my eye…" Billy had not bought it, but it'd been so improbable that he shook his head and squinted at the next tear that appeared in the corner of my eye. "It's okay Ethan. What are you crying about?" He had hissed as he'd known it would make me embarrassed. I'd pushed up the sleeves; there had been no reason to deny it anymore. "Nothing really" I had lied.
I did not even remember why I'd cried. I just had. Billy hadn't tried to convince me to tell him. It had been pretty reasonable, because if making me admit had taken him almost two hours, knowing it would probably have taken him four. He had never known it. I hadn't thought he should. It'd not bothered him. We had just stayed what we always were. Friends. No. Not just friends. We'd been best friends. I hadn't known what it meant. Thinking if friend was more than an acquaintance. A best friend should be more than a friend-according to this theory. "What is he trying to say" I'd asked myself, knowing I could not answer it. It had always been more than just a friendship to me. A way more than that, fondling the shoulder Billy had patted me on. It'd felt weird. It had been like I enjoyed him touching me. "Stop it! You don't!" I'd convinced myself, and pulled my eyebrows together in anger, trying to ignore that feeling. "This is not normal!" I had reminded myself, looking around for an "Out of sight" place. The bathroom had seemed to be the only place secluded. Turned out it'd been full too. "God Damn it" I had hissed, clutching my hands into fists and hit the shoulder. I hadn't cried. Not as much as I had when Billy stood in front of me. "It must be because of what Billy said" I'd guessed. Billy had died before I could even think of a way to tell him what I felt.
"I'm sorry Billy" I said. My tears percolated down through the cracks in the marble, wishing he would be able to see them now.
It was midnight. "I will be back tomorrow" I hissed, and threw the rose I had been fiddling with at his coffin. He stood there, not moving an inch- waiting. I could hear it. The voice I had always recognized and responded to in any case, marching through the fire for, or even jumping off a cliff into the bottom of hell. It was him. Had it just been a dream? I wondered as my back faced his coffin. If he was really alive. What was I doing in the cemetery? I turned around and started following the sound of his voice. Maybe it was all in my mind? I asked myself doubtfully. There was the same volume in my both ears. I could not use them to find its source. The voice went louder as I approached his coffin. The odds of him being alive were ninety nine percent
"Closer" the voice commanded. I took a few steps forward, ready to "resurrect" him. I put my palms on the lid, trying to take it off with no success.
