Heading Out

This really is me just testing out an idea ive had for a while. NOTE: This is not the main story, just practice. A sheltered boy who just entered adulthood and is setting out to the big city.

The engine revved suddenly, sending strong vibrations throughout the aged cadillac.  Paint flakes, loosing their will, crisped off the sides floating downwards toward the pavement.  The sight of the vehicle was repulsing, bringing an embarrassed blush to its owner's pale cheeks.  This was hardly what he would call a "pumped up" ride, or at least thats what the others said. Groans from the engine erupted as if scolding its owner for the rude thoughts that flowed through is head.  

The young man, barely 18, scoffed, turning his head away from the crusty car given to him by his father. 

"People in New York City are gonna kick my a*s if they see me in this…thing." He breathed out an empty sigh before turing his attention to the piles of luggage that towered over him.  The view was intimating causing the man to huff out another sigh.  

"Why didn't dad ever take up that gym membership offer," he whispered as he felt his fragile arms.  Tenderly he glided his fingers over the fabric of the first bag before catching the handle in a firm grip.  True to his former predictions, the bag was indeed quite heavy.  The man hitched his breath and heaved the bag up over his shoulder.  Sweat had already formed on his forehead slowly dripping down to the tip of his nose. 

"What a bother…," with much effort he commanded his feet to move.  Inch by inch he went with rattling knees, biting his bottom lip to keep from cursing.  Rounding his slender body to the trunk, he plopped the bag down. His brows quivered in frustration as he dramatically collapse on top of the hell sent bag.  Life, so far, had majorly gone down hill.

"Wilbur! Son! What are you doing?" The door of the house creaked open as the large man proceeded out.  Wilbur placed his hands on the bag, slowly shoving himself upright to greet his father.  

"I was taking a nap in the trunk of my car…you know like i always do…," Cracking a weak smile, Wilbur's blush returned as he felt the awkward excuse hit his ears. The man studied his son with a scowl, he knew the boy was weak, but surely he couldn't be so weak that he couldn't carry a duffle bag to the car.  

"Stop being such a baby. Here let me help with the bags, just this once though! I won't be there in the city with you," he gave the boy a stern look and then marched over the pile of luggage.  Wilbur sighed in relief, at least his Dad wasn't beyond helping him pack.

He smiled, slowly tilting his head upwards to stare at the cloudy sky.  So far, life on his own seemed promising. 

Author's Note

ahhhh so bad so -dead- so tired haha