Boy Reading

So, this story is suppose to be for school. I really liked it, and included one of my poems into the story. I hope you enjoy! It's about a boy, and how reading can really possess you.

Gingerly, the boy stepped around the mountains of trash. He was almost there, almost to his solitude.  As he pushed through the piles of rubbish, the boy attempted to block the memories threatening to consume him.
When he reached his final destination, he collapsed on a pile of rotting newspaper and cried. He hoped no one could hear him, and he prayed he would not get caught. But after a moment of thinking, the boy decided that it didn't matter if he got caught and taken away. No one would care. He had no one, and there was no one there for him.
The memories all came flooding back, and the boy let out a heart wrenching sob. They had taken his family away, every single one of them. Somehow he had been forgotten,  and now here he was; all alone, fending for himself in the dark, bitter world.
How he longed to hear his mother's beautiful voice, and his father's hearty laugh. Now they were both gone, and he had no idea what he was going to do.
The boy wondered if he should just give up, and he considered how easy that would be. He could run out into the open, wave his arms, and instantly he'd be taken away. As the boy thought about doing just that, he heard footsteps approaching. Out of instinct, he dived behind the newspapers. The boy scrunched into a ball and waited in silence for the footsteps to fade away. He cautiously tried repositioning himself, and gasped when something from behind made a rustling sound. He jerked and saw a small raccoon, tearing away at the remains of an old book. The boy made sharp, hushed sounds in an attempt to frighten the raccoon, and finally it scurried away, leaving the disassembled book behind. The boy listened for the footsteps, and when he heard none, he hurried and snatched the book.
Curious as to what the book was about, the boy slowly wiped at the cover, but there was no title to be found. He gently turned the first page and discovered that it was a book of poetry. The boy felt his entire countenance lift, and a slow smile spread across his face as he softly flipped through the delicate pages. He remembered when his mother was alive, and she would snuggle him close as she read from books of poetry. He wiped the tears, once again forming on his face, and cradled the tarnished book in his arms. The boy panickedly glanced around, and when he saw no one, sat back on the newspapers and stared at the book in his hands. He caressed the cover and slowly opened the book again, letting it fall open to a page that had clearly been opened to several times before. The pages were practically disintegrating, and the binding was unraveling into a heap upon his lap. He carefully wiped away the years of dust and grime, and tried to make out the title of the poem.  "Storm." The boy read in a hoarse whisper. He shuddered with excitement and quickly cleaned the rest of the page. He looked up from the book for only a moment to be sure he was not being watched, and quickly glanced down to read the poem. He immediately became consumed with the haunting words of the rhyme. The boy read in a hushed, attentive voice, being careful so he would not be discovered. "And through the pouring rain... A still, silent storm brings my life awake, and little by little, rain drops threaten my soul to take." He began, his voice trembling with emotion. "They begin to drop rapidly, bearing into my skin, and in my mind, I know something terrible is about to begin. They gently caress my hair, whispering in my ear, words of sorrow, words of horror saying, 'The end is near.'" The boy was now completely oblivious to any of his surroundings, and did not even notice the man watching from a very near distance. The boy continued on, anxious to hear the ending of the captivating poem. "The more I struggle, the more I die, and then the more they speak. They take my soul, my heart, my mind - leaving me very weak." He flipped the page and scrubbed the grime hastily and started to read on, when he heard footsteps approaching. He slammed the book shut and jumped up to face the intruder. The boy gasped in fear when he saw the gun the man now had cocked and aimed. "What do you think you're doing here, boy? Ain't you 'pose to be with your family?" The man took two steps forwards as the boy took two back.  "P-please sir, I know I got no right being here, but I just came to read." The boy pleaded with his eyes. The man just laughed and lunged towards the boy. But the boy was quick, and sprinted as fast as he could, as far away from the man as possible. He looked behind and realizing that he could not run forever, the boy glanced at the book in his hands. Shaking frantically, the boy opened to the last page of the poem and read as he ran. "I cry out in anguish, my body to the ground. The rain gently soaks me in, drowning me with no sound." The boy glanced behind at the man quickly gaining on him, swallowed his fear, and read on. "I know this is the end, how could I be wrong? They left me suffering, suffering for so long." The boy choked on his tears, and started sobbing. The tears blurred his vision and he tripped on a small pebble in his way. The boy fell to his knees and covered his face in his hands, heaving uncontrollably. He heard the man approaching and looked at the last verse of the poem, and read with great courage, "As tears form in my eyes, I give up my last of hope. And through the pouring rain..." A shot rung out, and the boy collapsed into a heap. He watched the blood spew from his chest, and the book fell from his hands, "I let go of my ghost."

Reviews

[Nick.B]

Interesting story you managed to pin here, really like the idea...good job

[IcYLuVa]

Thank you so much for your review! :)