View Full Version : Judgement Day | Chapter 1

02-09-2016, 02:57 AM
Basically, the current predicament I am at makes me cringe far too hard when I take a look bad at NFV (which I must continue whether it kills me or not), so I have decided to make it up by sharing something predrafted. I need feedback anyway, so do not hesitate.

These will also be shorter, as I am simply testing this concept out. By no means am I decent author — just a kid who enjoys writing.

CHAPTER 1 | Part 1
They waited at the door anxiously. Per the norm for children, they were jovial and energetic, anticipating the allotted time for recreation. Despite the dedication to go play in the mud — or whatever it may be this particular day — the children upheld focused and collected mentality, and when Mr. Sherman answered his door, the children practiced perfect posture as gentlemen should, prioritizing polite formalities even at the youthful age of nine.

“Well, hello, Dylan. This is rather unexpected — what can I do for you?” Mr. Sherman asked blithely.

“My dad…er…father wanted to compensate you for the wine you gave him,” Dylan said carefully yet uncomfortably. There was a sense of hesitation in his voice, as if he feared faltering over his own words — assuming they were his words and not prerequisites to another language.

“Oh, that? I was not fond of the peculiar taste. I guess it is an acquired taste though.”

“Well, he wanted you to have this anyway.”

Earl Sherman gingerly held his hand out as Dylan slipped the money into his hand just as gingerly. “Ah…your father…I assure you this is worth twice the bottle’s worth while unopened. I am no connoisseur, but a paltry sum would do.”

“Sorry, Mr. Sherman. He told me not to take no for an answer,” Dylan said with casual tongue, “he really enjoyed it.”

“Of course I feel bad accepting this; I know your father well enough though. I would feel worse not having the courtesy to accept it. Please inform him that I am grateful for his appreciation.” The older gentleman reached behind the door and pulled a small can of cola. “For your troubles, I reward you with this,” he said as he handed the Pepsi to Dylan. Receiving a Pepsi from a neighbor was perhaps the equivalent of purchasing cocaine in his household — it was forbidden. “Proper” gentlemen took no such pleasure in drinking commoners’ beverages, and therefore any soda was a smuggled rarity in his household.

“Wow! Thanks Mr. Sher-” he paused, “I mean: I appreciate the exhaustive,” another pause to prevent a spoonerism, “the exhaustive charitability of such a generous man like yourself.”

“Such a small deed should not be the equivalent to much. However, I know how seldom you are permitted to enjoy the — how does he phrase it — mundane beverage. Though the finer wines that he enjoys are certainly not age appropriate for a youth, so what does he want you to drink with meals? Water? Speak of a bland compliment!”

Dylan was genuinely grateful — it was unobtrusive to formalities — even though he knew the pleasantries of Mr. Sherman were purely in jocularity; they were almost an insult to his father’s strict ways. Dylan had understood the concept of humility, and therefore knew his life was not miserable; however, as much as he wanted to impress his father, he comparatively lacked in juxtaposition to his brother, Matthew, who was the paragon to aspiring aristocrats. He dressed formally while in casual prospects and almost never succumbed to any external influences. It was almost as if he knew nothing but formalities and his name — a rather vacuous lifestyle. He was a walking corpse brainwashed to carry out the will of his father, or rather that is how Dylan’s perspective withheld its base.

“Furthermore,” Mr. Sherman began, “dismiss this as a facetious intrusion — rather impolite too — but may I ask why you are dressed so formally on such an easygoing, placid Sunday? Surely you are not an avid churchgoer.”

“I am not.” Dylan bit his lip and paltered for the sake of himself, “With respect, Mr. Sherman, I believe that such idiosyncrasies are not of pertinence in the manner you have inquired.” The circumlocuting nature of the blatant evasion was made stringent to Mr. Sherman, especially in the verbose way he reproached his own words; he let the topic die in a manner paralleling the process of a youth’s innocence and optimism being stripped from them at a young age.

Nihilistic paradigms aside, the stagnant air after the thunderous storm mimicked the reaction of the idealistic words of Mr. Sherman. “Very well. Pardon my intrusion. You may want to head home; there is a storm expected later on — what else is new?”

“What storm? I have heard nothing of the sort.”

“Likewise,” Mr. Sherman muttered, “but obviously your father is expecting you. While laud is not expected of a simple task, I assume that the gratis exchange of pleasantries has entertained that prospect thoroughly enough.”

Dylan was caught with a hint of perplexity upon his face after the talk about the storm, then the mention of the conversation. It was commonly interpreted as the concerned manner in which Mr. Sherman nullified his previous query.

“On a terminating note, I must say, Dylan, that you speak in a rather eloquent manner; therefore, it may be out of character for me to ask, but where might you have acquired such a habit.”

“A conundrum, is it not? I will admit, the pressure of maintaining such verbose tendencies does make for rather promising opportunities in fields that require such — lawyer and such. Though I am only nine, and now it is purely for display,” Dylan realized his blemish just as he made it: speaking of the forced tendencies of which he must bear to retain his status. “But I must be leaving, surely, sir.”

“Ah, well, pardon my tiresome, monotonous queries this visit as well — or the rest for that matter — as I greatly appreciate you fortuitous visits,” Mr. Sherman said as he made a subtle wave and headed back indoors to his inviting normalities. “What a strange kid,” he mumbled as he poured himself freshly-brewed tea.

02-09-2016, 03:11 AM
I like the writing and the topic (story? situation?) is interesting as well and it has me wondering about other aspects of Dylan's life.

02-09-2016, 03:15 AM
What a strange kid.

02-09-2016, 03:22 AM

02-09-2016, 09:11 AM
No need to use too many big words imo, but I got hooked on the story.

Nice job.

02-09-2016, 12:22 PM
No need to use too many big words.

Yeah he does that a lot