Tuesday, December 25, 2007
First Writing Exercise: An Experiment
Folks,
First: Welcome to the blog. Second: It's okay if this gets a little messy. But it's a different (and easy) way to make everybody's writing available to everybody else in class.
For your first writing exercise please create a new post with your name and the words "Writing Exercise 1" in the title. Save the post, and we'll see what happens. If there are any kinks then we will work them out in class next week.
Thanks much.
David
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Writing Exercise 1 - Jonathan D. Williams
The Follower
He never decided exactly how he felt about the boy; he was such an ill-mannered fellow. He had known him since they were both in fifth grade, but it wasn’t until a year later that he realized how significant an event it was to have met him. Their friendship began in rivalry but evolved into an intense union of mutual preservation. Hill was the safe, hesitant one while his companion was the purveyor of all things treacherous and impious. The first day they met seemed to Hill that he had always known him. Since then he came to believe that what he saw in him that was so deeply attractive was an undesirable reflection of something unrealized within himself.
It was recess and Hill was walking around aimlessly when he spotted him standing behind the girl’s restroom. The boy’s and girl’s restrooms were solitary structures that were ventilated by a one foot opening that ran the perimeter of the building and was about seven feet above the ground. When he saw his only friend he anxiously motioned for him to come over and help. He asked Hill to hoist him up so without thinking, he obliged him. It was one of those bizarrely nebulous moments when you are acting before you can process exactly what you are doing. In a matter of moments the boy was standing on his shoulders and observing the girls in all of their copromised glory. As he did so all he wondered if they used the bathroom like boys did or not; at that time he did not know. They were both busted by their Phys Ed coach and Hill was severely punished by his parents. His mother’s relentlessly silent shame over what he had done dominated his world for an entire week. The coach had inexplicably named Hill as the voyeur so this evidently fueled her righteous indignation. He held out for an astoundingly long time considering the psychological torture, but after the eight day, he finally confessed to something he had not quite done, out of sheer mercy, as opposed to contrition. The aftermath was a wicked beating with his father’s shiny brown leather dress belt. His anger was for the ordeal he put his mother through and for being insolent enough to deny it for so long.. The beating was so bad that even his sister cried. Afterward he lay there wishing that he could retaliate against the mendacious Phys Ed teacher and the boy who was responsible for the entire mess. He was powerless to touch the teacher but the next day he intended to alleviate all of his frustration by pounding his fist into the face of that oversexed little Judas.
Immediately after school ended the next day he walked straight up to him with his violent intentions written as clearly on his face as the ninety degree sweat that beaded down to his chin like a salty little army. The first punch put him on the ground and as he wailed on him the boy looked up at him with the shocked and helpless eyes of a child. After two of Hill's friends pulled him off of him before they could be caught by one of the teachers, he looked in his eyes one last time to let him know how lucky he was to get away and his response ended his rage. He looked at him with a mixture of humor and admiration. If it had been anything else, including fear, he probably would never have spoken to him again; but his reaction disarming and impressive. In the following days they formed this intense partnership that would lead them into similarly violent and morally murky encounters.
I suppose he saw a suitable partner in crime in the bigger and much more sociable partner, but there was something less distinct about his attraction to Hill; an almost physical attraction, certainly a palpable one. He was admired, athletic, and aggressive, but still awkward and unaware of his better characteristics. He latched on to Hill like a life preserver because he possessed all of the things that he did not. His face was curiously indistinct, save for a slender, sulky quality; he was short and of small build, and his voice was almost feminine in its wispiness. Perhaps Hill provided the bearing and cover for him to feel safe enough to pursue his penchant for danger.
His name was Xavier; an academic name. That is why Hill called him college, because it is the name of a University not far from where they lived. At school he always called him this but away he used his grown-up, given name - Xavier. The day Hill and Xavier got together outside of school for the first time the two of them almost died. It was Friday. Hill hadn’t seen him all day but somehow he knew that he would before the day was over. That morning Hill got an A on his math test. During recess he was hit in the head by a random rock which drew blood and caused him see the nurse. The rock was actually a stone and was throne hard enought that if it had landed squarely Hill would likely have suffered a skull fracture. As the pain subsided his anger grew at the fact that he did not know who had thrown it. He wasn't even sure if it was aimed at him but he still wanted someone to pay.
After school two girls got into a fight and drew a crowd. One of them was Hill's friend Melanie and the other was a girl named Tracy who was much bigger and who wore her dress like a bull wears a nosering. She was an accustomed pugilist. The fight took place on the street side of the gym which shielded it from teacher interference. Melanie held her own for a while but she soon grew tired and Tracy started to pull Melanie’s clothes off. He never understood why girls always resorted to this behavior. He supposed that it is a distractive method but it seems to be done more for the sake of embarrassment; either way boys always crowded around for the chance to see some skin. These two did not disappoint. Tracy pulled at Melanie’s shirt until it tore and when her chest was exposed she began to pull her hair. The pain on his friends face began to worry him but he could not resist looking at her exposed body. Eventually he noticed that every other boy’s eyes were fixated on her and this realization incited enough shame in him to break the spell and impel him to action. He moved in and grabbed the girls arm. She was as big as he so he made sure to protect himself in case she should turn on him. The look on Melanie’s face was unbridled gratitude as he easily pulled the girl away from her. Tracy looked like she wanted to swing at him but thought better of it after seeing the expression in his eyes. He was not prepared to hit her but he would have done what was necessary to subdue her. He took off his shirt and gave it to Melanie when he realized Melanie was standing there, shivering with her arms folded to cover her chest. Her bra had been torn off and she asked him to help her find it. We looked around but it had disappeared along with the crowd.
”Come on Melanie, don’t worry about it; let me walk you home,” these words were not as reassuring as he had wished. Nevertheless, it was clear to him that she needed company; but that was not the only reason for his offer. His excitement was a complex, churning thing deep in his 12 year old belly. “Thanks Hill.” She kept her eyes downcast and walked close beside him. As they walked he tried to think of the pain in his head or the math test or anything else besides seeing Melanie’s breast; but that was all that he could think of. He had seen other girls before but it was never like this. He and Melanie had been friends since kindergarten so the experience had a profound effect on him. He had known her longer than his four year old sister, he thought. “You fight like a Layla Ali Mel, but that girl is just too big.” She offered a weak smile. He tried to make conversation because the silence was only intensifying the image in his mind. “I was worried she would swing at me and put me down like Sophia in The Color Purple,” she gave a more unforced smile this time. “I would have had your back; I was just tired,” she assured him. He looked over at her and knew that she meant it; there was a steely look in her eyes that was queer for a girl as feminine as she .
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