Jeremy's Space Rock

Jeremy loves astronomy. While looking at the stars in the night sky he notices one star getting bigger. But that's impossible, yet the more he looks the more realizes it's coming right at him!

Jeremy's Space Rock

 

by

Ralph H. Proenza

 

SMASHWORDS  EDITION

 

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PUBLISHED BY:

R.H. Proenza on Smashwords

 

Jeremy's Space Rock

Copyright © 2013 by R.H. Proenza

Revised 04/03/2021

 

ISBN:  9798628878064

 

 

*****

Cover Artwork by R.H. Proenza

*****

 

For my grandchildren Caleb, Joshua, Rebecca, Jenna, and Noah, who have a universe of things yet to discover.

 

 

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Eleven-and-a-half-year-old Jeremy Braddock stared up at the ceiling from his bed as if he could see his beloved stars that shone outside in the dark skies above.  He imagined his vision penetrating right through the painted sheetrock drywall, like Superman’s �"�son of Jor-el �"�X-Ray vision �"�through the attic rafters and beams, including all the junk now stored in the attic, and out beyond the roof shingles through the fresh air of the night sky. He gave a mental gasp as chills raised the hair on his arms at the imagined vivid panorama. Yes, out there, the black screen of the sky would is peppered with constellations and quasars and gaseous nebulae galore, OH, MY. Hee Hee.

Nope.  That won’t do; his moment of silliness over.  His imagination was good, but not THAT good. Not for x-ray vision! He had to see the stars with his own sharp eyes.

Shifting on his bed and wobbling over to the window in his funny way of walking, he peered upward.  AH HA! There it is!  There, resting serenely in the dark, cloudless eastern sky, was the beautiful constellation Orion shining so clearly, with its fuzzy navel, of sorts, the Cloud Nebula below Orion’s three-star belt.  The ‘Cloud’ was a nursery for new stars.

Imagine that, a nursey for stars!  He could almost hear the baby stars crying--waah waah. Jeremy grinned. Well, almost.

He wanted so badly to stick his finger into that barely-visible fuzzy cloud to see if he could stir up some stardust.  It’s just beautiful up there, he pondered. I wonder what stardust feels like? Maybe like hot glitter? Like glitter mixed in with hot glue. Uh, wait, no, that burns!

 

The constellation’s two brightest stars, Betelgeuse, a "Red Super Giant" in the process of dying, and Rigel, a brilliant blue-white star, beamed from its top. They both shone like distant lighthouses in an ocean of blackness. He stared, now, at the reddish Betelgeuse, the eighth brightest star in the night sky.  I wonder how long it would take to fly all-l-l-l-l the way up there? He had read of there being a black hole present somewhere inside this cluster of stars. A queasy feeling came up in his stomach as he felt himself falling into this deep, bottomless pit of a black hole that sucked in anything near it. He grabbed his stomach. WHOA! That didn’t feel too good!

Suddenly, something was holding him down, making him fall back onto his bed. WHAT?

RATS! He looked down at the tangle of sheets around his leg braces. RATS!  Snagged again by the bedsheets around my braces! I FORGOT TO TAKE THEM OFF BEFORE GOING TO BED!

 

“Hmmmf. Acute Flaccid Myelitis. Not very cute!”  Jeremy had memorized the term after they diagnosed him with the ailment years ago when he was a young kid.  It was a paralysis like polio, they told him, but not exactly. RARE, they told him, but not exactly.  About thirty cases were discovered per year in this country and more worldwide, and he was one of the lucky ones. He had drawn the winning number; TA-DA!  Listen to the crowds’ applause…

 

Fortunately, it was a ‘relatively mild case’ (a quote from the doctors) that left him with metal leg braces and a funny way of walking. Yeah…like, okay, get ready, Jeremy, a locomotive is gonna fall on top of you. But don’t worry, you’ll just get a RELATIVELY MILD BRUISE from the locomotive!

Well, now he wore these metallic braces to show for it!  Braces that loved to entangle themselves around things, like weeds, tall grass, and of course, bedsheets. Braces that he was sure would set off metal detectors at airports and Federal Buildings and bring on the SWAT teams with their raised AR-15 assault rifles full of .223 rounds in the magazines, ready to neutralize the metallic intruder.  Braces that prompted cruel kids at school to holler out, “Run, Forrest, run!”  That had gotten old in a hurry after weeks of hearing it.

 

      It sounded like he was bitter, but he wasn’t. Fortunately, he was wired that way.  He was used to the whole affair by now, even the prodding, the poking from the doctors and nurses, and the blood samples --the endless blood samples. All his research told him that blood was chock-full of floating cells, chemicals, and other odd things that the doctors and labs could investigate.  In the beginning, he felt like his granny’s sewing pincushion. He wondered how many bucketfuls they had taken from his arms. Now looking back, all that blood-drawing and lab tests had piqued his interest in the medical sciences. It made him wonder if he could ever become a doctor or some kind of blood scientist and work in a lab someday.

That would be pretty cool.  I could do that!

His imagination was starting to wander again. Well, no matter, the fuss was almost all over. I guess the doctors must be getting bored of my condition. It was all getting routine except for the occasional surprise visits and exams.

A motivating side effect,  which Jeremy didn’t mind too much, had been to bring about girls' attention at school.  Some of them were starting to look, um, interesting.

Okay, some were even cute. Hooray, let’s hear for puberty, folks!  He announced in his mental auditorium.

As he admired the twinkling stars through his window, his focus went to one particular star. It had gotten bigger and brighter for no apparent reason that he could think of.

Jeremy shot up in bed again. His eyes narrowed as he stared intently at what was unfolding before his eyes. The tiny star had begun to swell up.

Hey, wait a minute.  That star is too bright to belong to Orion --or any constellation near it.

He had perfectly memorized the shape and character of this particular star group.  But now, the point of light appeared to be growing �"�ACTUALLY GROWING.

But… but that's impossible!  How could it be getting bigger?

 “Newton, do you see that?"  He looked briefly over at his white pet mouse, puttering around in his cage in the dim light, then back to his window.

 

 

 Within seconds the ‘star’ had grown even more in size, as if it were, in fact, swelling.  Untangling his legs from what was now a swirling tangle of sheets, as fast as he could, Jeremy stumbled out of bed and loped to the window.  Gazing upward, he noticed what used to be a bright pinpoint of light was NOT actually moving but growing larger!  Jeremy reasoned, if it is growing but not moving, then it must be a shooting star!  He could not see a trail of fire coming from the ‘star,’ so that meant it couldn’t be a meteor. Or can it be?

To his amazement, it had now become a tiny white ball.  The bright ball enlarged still further as he stared, his eyes almost bugging out of his head.  As he saw a wavering glow coming from behind it, the realization hit him like a photon torpedo.

HOLEY MOLEY, --- that's a real... live ... SHOOTING ... STAR!  Well, beam me up, Scotty!  But wait; it has no tail like a typical shooting star.

He fumbled, flailing his arm uselessly, trying to reach for the telescope he had gotten for his birthday but couldn't look away long enough to grab and raise it toward the sky.  The shooting star or meteor (for that's what it had to be) was now getting even more significant.

Wait…the thing is not moving, yet it’s getting bigger. What’s happening? It seemed to stand still, all the while growing more prominent.

If I can’t see a tail, and it’s growing in size, that means… IT … IS … HEADED ...RIGHT ...AT ... US!

Jeremy’s mouth flopped open, but no sound came out. He could only gasp.

 

 
      Jeremy stood frozen, his heart pounding in his chest, his eyes bugging out.  All this time, it was soaring closer in the sky.  Time seemed to be slowing down, and he couldn’t do a thing about it!  He imagined there was a trail of burning flames streaming behind it. But Jeremy couldn’t see it as long as it was coming straight at his face!  He felt like Wile E. Coyote while a giant burning iron anvil was falling toward him, and all he had was a tiny umbrella to protect him.  Now, at once, its light became like a  sun. There was no time to react, to save himself!  HE WAS DOOMED TO DIE!

 

“NEWTON….QUICK. HIDE UNDER YOUR STRAW! He screamed.

Jeremy ducked halfway behind the window frame for all the good that would have done.  All at once, in a rapid sequence, he heard a loud whooshing sound and the noise of cracking and snapping of trees in the wooded area behind his house. Then it was followed by a loud ‘WHAM.’ A strange vibration seemed to come from the ground around his house. Then there was silence.

Jeremy’s chest was heaving up ad down as he fought to catch his breath.  He looked around to see if his room was on fire or demolished into fragments or his pajamas had ignited.  He threw open the window to lean out, still panting.  He thought if he could settle down his excitement, he could identify where the shooting star had fallen just by following the trail of fire.

Did I just say SHOOTING STAR? NO!  It was now a meteorite since it had fallen to the earth!  A real METEORITE!  He paced awkwardly back and forth, anxious over what to do next.

What does one DO when a huge fiery boulder from outer space lands near your house? I mean… YIKES!

It was too late to go into the woods tonight.  He needed daylight.  Rats! He was wide awake now, and he knew sleep would never come, and the rest of the night was going to last forever.

~ ~ ~

 

The following day Jeremy felt like he had fallen into a time warp. The school clock seemed to move in slow motion like all the gears inside were filled with thick, cold pancake syrup.  Jeremy was about to explode with a secret about which he couldn't tell anyone.  Well, not just yet anyway. He couldn't even tell Beth in class. She was so cute that sometimes he would volunteer to help her with her science homework. Okay, well, maybe he could tell Beth so he could get up close to her. Admittedly, she had been one of the first girls he noticed right after ‘puberty kicked in.’

It took all the self-control he could muster to keep the news to himself and not bounce off the walls of the school building. During some of his duller classes (and there were many for him), after finishing his regular classwork ahead of schedule, Jeremy took the time to draw out a very detailed “Search Map” on locating the prized METEORITE. He kept looking over his shoulders, making sure no one was looking. Secrecy was of the utmost importance.

Several times during class, Jeremy caught himself staring out the window. THERE’S A REAL METEORITE IN THE FOREST BEHIND MY HOUSE RIGHT NOW!  His brain kept screaming. He put his hand on the side of his face as if to help contain the screaming.

Trying not to hyperventilate, Jeremy meticulously replayed every pixel of the ‘video’ in his head of everything he remembered of the meteorite crashing through the trees, complete with the exciting crackling sounds and fire show and heart trying to pound out of his chest. Then he put together and mapped out all he remembered of the trajectory and heading of the meteor as it sored through the trees before it hit behind his house. With his map, he had a pretty clear picture of how to find this treasured rock from space that had traveled so many miles at such incredible speeds only to land practically in his backyard. Like, here it was on a silver platter, so-to-speak, waiting for him to find it.

Good Grief ... What Luck!

But today was Friday, HOORAY!  And finally, the bell rang to finish off the school week.

The ’DIY official search map’ he had worked on with so much diligence and care was already safely tucked in his pocket. He kept looking over his shoulder to maintain his secrecy. Nobody noticed his stealth as he blended in with the crowd of other kids on their usual Friday mad exodus to get home.

 

 

 

Jeremy was home in a flash, but it was not fast enough to suit his excitement.  After changing clothes in minutes, he loped to the wooded area behind his house, as quickly as his harnessed ‘Gumpy’ legs would allow.  He was ready to begin the hunt for the meteorite, which Jeremy had started referring to as the  E.T. Rock. He lamented that he didn’t own a drone with a camera to give him an overview of his house's area. That would have made it such an easy task! Oh, man, what a piece of cake that would make the hunt!

It was a good distance from his house, and the trek was long and arduous, given his harnessed legs. Still, he knew about where to start looking, especially using the 'superior and exceedingly accurate' map (HIS OPINION) he had created. He had not explored these woods for over a year, but he thought he remembered the terrain. It had started to get overgrown with bushes and fallen limbs with time.  After a slow and tedious search of the woods, he found the evidence: a path of burned and broken tree branches and bushes.  YES, …THIS IS IT! HERE'S THE LANDING AREA!

He could feel his heart throbbing at his throat again like a marching band bass drum. He then just followed the path it had made.  He knew the meteorite's fall had been slowed down by everything it had hit: first by the air molecules in the atmosphere, then by the trees and bushes, then finally the ground, then thud.

Then, he saw it. WOW...there it is! He thought, about to lose his breath.

The space rock now rested in a shallow depression in the ground.   The broken and charred trees marked the landing path of this extra-terrestrial boulder.  It lay on the ground surrounded by burnt and smoking underbrush and a ring of raised dirt made on impact.  Several scorched and broken pieces of the meteorite had cracked off and lay nearby.

 

 

Jeremy gazed in disbelief, his eyes almost bulging from his head.  He remembered his science teacher saying that at least two hundred million meteors enter the earth's atmosphere every year. However, only a few ever landed because they usually would burn up in the atmosphere, yet here was one!  A meteorite of my OWN, well, for now anyway. Wow -- an E.T. rock!  He stared at it like it was a whale-size priceless gem.

As he looked the large rock over, the boy noticed it was more like a scorched boulder. A large dark gray-and-black pocked-marked chunk of stone about 3 feet in diameter and almost five feet long, and part of it had buried itself in the dirt. He knew it had been bigger before it entered Earth’s atmosphere, and the friction and heat of entry had burned and carved away some of its bulk. Except for the scorched surface, it looked so much like any other rock boulder here on Earth, but that didn't lessen his excitement.   He could barely stand it as he reached out his hand to touch it.  Feeling slight warmth coming from it as he approached it, he jolted to a stop with a gasp.

WAIT!  What if it's infected with a new space germ like in the movie "Andromeda Strain" and it clots up all my blood?  Or what if it's radioactive and my eyeballs get fried, and my teeth all fall out? He thought to himself. Jeremy was often given to view real-life using movies as comparisons.

Shaking with a mixture of fear and excitement, he sat on a nearby fallen tree to ponder his dilemma before a plan came to mind.  He had to make sure he and the entire world were not in any danger, and Jeremy knew he had to work fast to beat nightfall again.  He bolted home, as much as his legs would cooperate, to gather his supplies and for a call to his science teacher. The teacher had told Jeremy, his favorite student, he could call anytime.

 "Hello, Mr. Philips, this is Jeremy, you know, from Second Period."

"Oh, yes, hello Braddock, one of my best students.  What can I do for you, son?"

"I'm sorry to call you at home like this.”

“Not a problem, son.”

 “... Well, you see, I was, um, having this discussion with my friend and, uh, we were just wondering if there was an easy way you can check something to see if it is radioactive?"

"Radioactive? Ah, a good question, Braddock.  You always have good questions in class.  Well, let's see.  I suppose you... could... um, no, that wouldn’t work, or perhaps, no, that wouldn’t work either. Okay, maybe you could find an old wristwatch with a radium dial and, uh, no, those aren’t around anymore..” The teacher was thinking out loud.  “Well, I’m afraid I can’t come up with a shortcut, Jeremy. You simply need to have a Geiger Counter on hand."

"Oh, yes, I suppose that’s the only way.  Thank you, Mr. Philips," the boy said, somewhat deflated.

"Well, I'm glad I could help.  What -- did you find some weapons-grade plutonium or something?"  Mr. Philips chuckled as if he had made a joke.

"Uh, NO... no plutonium, uh, we....were just wondering, you know, having a discussion. But I'll tell you all about it next week. Thank you, and see you Monday, Mr. Philips."

 Jeremy wished his dad were not out of town.  He needed to talk to him, but he would have to do this on his own.  His dad was a hobby-geologist and owned a fancy Geiger Counter, but it was off-limits to the boy. Then he remembered:

WAIT! Dad has a beginner’s one he got when he first started his hobby that he let me use! But where is it?

The hunt began in his dad’s workshop. He flung open one cabinet after another. A short time later, after ransacking several cabinets filled with a mixture of capacitors, old wire, old maps, and digging implements used in geological digging, Jeremy found a sturdy wooden box with the words Images Scientific, Inc etched on the outside.  He could feel the excitement building inside of him. Sure enough, inside was an old small hand-held Geiger counter, complete with a Uranium ore sample used to test the detector.

YES!  EUREKA!

           

 

He raised a triumphant fist into the air. The sample was labeled “Activity: 984 CPM” on the outside and looked official.

He dug up a nine-volt battery to run the detector. Once he inserted the battery, it seemed to work as expected.  He put on gloves, just in case. He opened up the Uranium sample and used it to test the Geiger Counter. He remembered how to do it. Jeremy grinned when it registered like it was supposed to.

OKAY, I’m ready to test the meteorite for radioactivity.  Finally, Jeremy was prepared to approach the meteorite and put his scientifically devised plan into motion.

 

Part of his plan had included using his white pet mouse as a live subject. Jeremy loved his little white mouse but had no choice. He peered into the small portable cage to look at the critter.

“Now, Newton, you have been selected out of a large group of applicants, um, more or less…” Jeremy looked around. “Well,  sort of, …to be part of a crucial experiment for humanity. Be proud to have been picked for this assignment.  Remember, it’s all in the Interest of Science.” He said with a considerable amount of decorum to make it sound significant. He could almost hear his voice echo as if in a large auditorium.

 

 

 

He toted the mouse and all his supplies in a box, along with a six-foot cane fishing pole, to the site of the meteorite and carefully staged the supplies a safe distance from the fallen meteorite. He creased his brow and took a deep breath.

“Okay, Newton, here goes nothing.”  He attached a stiff curved wire cut from a coat hanger to his cane pole with duct tape. Jeremy hooked the small cage to the end of the rod.  Stretching his arms and rod out, he placed it up against and touching the fallen space boulder, then brought back the pole.

Okay, there’s my live subject for this experiment.  “Good luck, Newton. May the force be with you!”

Next, he duct-taped the Geiger Counter handpiece to the end of the pole, turned on the power, and brought it up against the side of the meteorite, making sure the detector’s sensor wand was touching the boulder.

Jeremy felt a slight tremble run through his body as he waited for the Counter to take its reading.  A drop of sweat ran from his temple as he began to feel the slight weight of the Counter on his arms.  It took a few minutes before he could see the dial move.

There. There it is! It took a reading.

He brought back the pole and Geiger Counter to land next to him. He looked intently at the dial, making sure he was not mistaken. The reading was negligible like you would get from any rock.

WHEW!  Earth is safe from dangerous, hostile extra-terrestrial radiation… hooray! My eyeballs and teeth AND the world are all safe!  But now he knew, and just as important--It was safe to touch the meteorite. Well, after he found out if Newton was alright in a little while, that is.

 Now he could walk away and return later to check out the live subject's status -- his brave mouse.

 

It had turned almost dark when Jeremy snuck out of the house and returned to the woods, clutching a flashlight and being careful not to snag on any weeds with his braces.  At the landing site, he grinned at Newton, scampering around the tiny cage.  The mouse was still alive!  HOORAY, no death-germs from space here, he reasoned.

“’Way to go, Newton! You deserve a reward for your part in all this.”

Jeremy brought his face up to the small cage and peered inside. "Newton, for your participation in this important experiment, I will reward you with something special,” he announced to the mouse.  “It will be a nice juicy piece of dad’s fancy sharp cheese when we get home!”  He stopped and turned to look at the cage.  “Just don’t tell dad."

 

Finally, the moment had arrived; all had checked out to be safe. He just HAD to touch it.    Jeremy reached out with a trembling hand, first with his index finger like he was testing his mom’s iron to see if it was hot. Now he placed the rest of his fingertips on the rock's surface, followed by his palm.  The excitement was almost too much to take.  It felt rough and no longer warm, like a natural rock boulder �"�like an an Earth rock �"� would feel.  That almost deflated his enthusiasm a bit -- but not by much.

He rapped on it with his knuckles, almost expecting something to knock back from inside.  Good grief, Jeremy, you've been watching too many sci-fi movies!  He thought to himself.

The meteorite felt as hard as a chunk of lead.  After basking a bit longer in his excitement, Jeremy called it a night.

Tomorrow I'll tell Mr. Philips.  Maybe the University will want it, or perhaps even NASA, so they can study it to see what it’s made of.

Before turning to leave, he looked around on the ground. A brilliant idea had just occurred to him.  Fragments had broken off from the brand new meteorite upon landing. He saw the broken pieces scattered on the ground. He found a ragged chunk the size of a cantaloupe and held it like it was the Hope Diamond.

"Wow, look, Newton; I own a piece of outer space.... a space rock! [voice echoing in the cavernous auditorium in his head again �"�people standing up, yelling and applauding, followed by a parade down Mainstreet…!]

“And I owe you a big piece of cheese!  Don’t worry. I won’t forget your reward."  He carefully clutched his treasure, hugging it to himself along with all the other stuff balancing against his chest, and wobbled precariously all the way home.

 ~    ~    ~    ~

Two weeks later, Jeremy sat reading for the umpteenth time the newspaper story he had cut out and put into a plastic protective sleeve.

It read:   "LOCAL BOY FINDS METEORITE." The newspaper showed a photograph of him standing next to the large gray boulder, holding Newton's cage and sporting a huge, toothy grin.  The article explained how Jeremy had 'scientifically' tested it for dangers to humanity. Scientists from the University congratulated him on how he handled this incredible find. Astronomers assumed the meteorite had burned up in the atmosphere and didn't bother to look for it.  Much to Jeremy’s surprise, they had named it the Braddock Meteorite.

 

Now he grinned at his prized space rock, a dark gray chunk resting on his bookshelf.  A sigh of accomplishment escaped from his lips.

"Newton, I wonder if my space rock flew close to Jupiter, or Saturn, or maybe Mars before landing here?"  The little mouse looked at him again and went back to nibbling on his seeds, the chunk of cheese long gone.

The Braddock Meteorite was put on display, first at his school ---which created many new friends for him--- then later at the University.  To his surprise, he became somewhat of a local celebrity.  Jeremy admitted that he enjoyed that a little.  Okay, I enjoyed it a lot!

 An unexpected side-effect was that his news seemed to have raised newsworthy awareness of his medical condition -- Acute Flaccid Myelitis.  The national association even contacted him to see if they could use his photo and his story. WOW!

 

      

 

      All that had happened within the last few weeks was still spinning in his head.  Slowly he began to relax as he thought about his beloved stars and his AWESOME Space Rock.

Now, he turned out the light and leaned back on his bed.  Sleepily, he looked up through his window at the constellation Orion in the black night sky peppered with a myriad of billions of sparkling diamonds. With starry eyes and a slight grin, Jeremy wondered how long it would take to fly to Betelgeuse…

 

The End

 

 

 

 © 2019 Ralph H. Proenza

Reviews

[JayG]

Your bio says that you’re serious about writing, and that you’ve self-published a few novels, so while what I’m about to say is going to sting, I thought you’d want to know about the problem that’s getting in your way—especially, given that it’s related to both your professional life and a major misunderstanding that dates back to our school days—one that shapes your approach to presenting a story.

To understand the problem, think back to your training in the art of writing. During those years did even one teacher mention that a scene almost always ends in disaster for the protagonist, and why? Did they explain the difference between point of view, as defined by pronoun usage, and viewpoint, and why viewpoint is critical to fiction?

How about tag usage, and the three things a reader needs to have addressed quickly, on entering any scene? I’m betting the answer is that no time was spent on those, or even what the elements of a scene on the page are, and why they differ so dramatically from one in film and on stage. But there’s a reason for that, which is directly connected to the ratio of fiction to reports and essays as writing assignments.

Simply put: We learn nonfiction writing techniques because for the vast majority of students, it’s the kind of writing we will be doing throughout our employment career—throughout YOUR employment career.

Nonfiction is designed to inform, clearly and concisely, unencumbered by emotional baggage, so it’s focused and accurate: fact-based and author-centric. And, it’s every bit as exciting, when used for fiction, as a report or history book. And when was the last time you heard a history book called a page-turner?

What we all miss is one critical fact: Professions are learned IN ADDITION to the Three R’s we’re given in school. And Fiction-Writing is a profession, though the fact that the word writing appears to name both the skill we learned and the profession fools us into believing that the two are more than casually connected.

In reality, with a goal of moving the reader emotionally, as against giving them an informational experience, fiction’s methodology is emotion-based and character-centric. Our goal isn’t to make the reader aware of what happens, it’s to make them FEEL as if it’s happening to THEM. And no way in hell can someone external to the action and talking about it, dispassionately, do that.

Because words of our own story are filled with emotion when we read it, we forget that we cheat. We have intent, and knowledge of the plot and characters driving our perception of the words as we read. The reader has no access to our intent, and must do with what our words and their placement suggest TO THEM, based on THEIR background.

That leads to a divergence between what you intend the reader to get and what they actually get. Look at a line or two from the opening to see what I mean:

• The boy stared up at the ceiling from his bed.

So this obviously isn’t our protagonist, because instead of a name, we get a generic term that could refer to someone four or fourteen. So you visualize Jeremy in bed, thinking. The reader gets an unknown male, eyes locked on the ceiling for unknown reasons.

• His thoughts bounced around like ping pong balls on a hard tile floor going from one thing to the next.

What useful thing does this tell the reader? You know the subject of the thoughts. You know his mood. The reader? Not a clue of who he is, where he is in time and space, or what’s going on.

• The night sky was one of his favorite places to look.

Okay, then what was all that business about him watching the ceiling? Why does a reader care what he was looking at if they don’t know why? Here, after introducing the character, you leave him in that room and stop all action, while you provide an info-dump of astronomical data meaningless to him at that moment. And it’s his story, which should relate to what’s happening that matters to HIM, not to you.

• "Yes, there it is, Jupee---It's reddish. See it?”

You have just used him as a shadow puppet. You talked about astronomy, and then have him make a remark designed to complement that lecture and demonstrate that he’s interested in astronomy, in a childish way. How can he seem to be a real person if he act and speaks in support of your storytelling, as-if-he-can-hear-you?

In the first three paragraphs, 351 words, he looks at the ceiling and out the window, and speaks/thinks a total of twenty words. So we’re close to the top of the third standard manuscript page and what’s happened? A kid looked out of his bedroom window. Yet it’s supposed to be HIS story. Why, then, isn’t he living it? Why doesn’t he turn to you and ask how you got in his bedroom, and who you’re talking to? To see the problems inherent to that approach (and to laugh), watch this:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?reload=9&v=TXfltmzRG-g

Bottom line: The fix for the problems I mentioned is simple: Add the skills of the fiction writer to the nonfiction skills you already own, and practice them till they feel as intuitive as the nonfiction skills you now own. It’s not an overnight process, but it’s worth the effort, if for no other reason than that the act of writing becomes a lot more fun when the protagonist is your co-writer.

For an idea of the number of issues involved, and how they work for you, the articles in my writing blog might help. For the nuts-and-bolts techniques of creating fiction that sings to the reader, though, you need a book like Dwight Swain’s, Techniques of the Selling Writer.

Some technical points that also get in the way:

1. If the meteor was, as you say, coming at him, he couldn’t see any tail or trailing debris because the meteor blocks his view.

2. A radium dialed watch became a thing of the past in 1968. So no teacher would refer to it at a time when Styrofoam is in use as it is in this story.

And, radium glows due to its own radioactive nature, and doesn’t “charge up” by being exposed to light. Today’s glow in the dark toys in effect, store light, and don’t glow in response to radiation. So the science teacher’s advice is wrong.

In the end, this critique was NOT what you either wanted or expected when you posted the story, and for the “ouch” factor, I’m sorry. Though I wish there was a more gentle way of breaking such news, I’ve not found one. But still, I think you’ll find that the learning, in and of itself, will be fun, as you slap your forehead and say, for the tenth time, “But that’s so obvious. Why didn’t I see it myself?”

So dig in. And of course, hang in there, and keep on writing.

Jay Greenstein
https://jaygreenstein.wordpress.com/category/the-craft-of-writing/the-grumpy-old-writing-coach/