to be titled at a later date

I am trying a new concept, let me know if it works

Luke Sharpe stumbled along the dark alley. The moon was a blur and he could have sworn he saw two. Luke was not like the other teens his age, and it was not the usual things that separated him from the others. Luke had killed his parents, the years of abuse, countless escape attempts, countless reprisals for trying to escape, had become too much to bear. In the ultimate act of self preservation, he poisoned them. He called the police, who were all but too familiar with the situation.

He pleaded self defense and won, after all his medical record spoke for itself. For a while things were fine, and then nightmares, which were followed by drinking. He was an alcoholic at seventeen. In the last two years he had been through thirteen foster homes. It was a new record according to his worker, who believed it was nothing to be proud of. After tonight, it would most likely be fourteen.

He stopped at a rusted out dumpster filled with cockroaches, and proceeded to urinate. He whistled as he did so, and even went as far to try and write his name. It proved to be nearly impossible, as his drunken state made it difficult to stand. He thought he heard something, but couldn't be sure, he had been hearing a lot of things when he was drunk lately.

He did hear something, and that something was waiting with a bag to put over Lukes head. Luke while physically taller than his assailant did not have the reflexes to fend it off. Or his assailants companion. He was trussed up with his hands behind his back, and a bag over his head. He was ushered into a vehicle of some kind judging by the height it was an SUV.

A familiar voice spoke, “He smells like an alehouse”, the displeasure in the voice was was clear as a bell.

Luke could not remember where he had heard the voice before, but in his defense he barely remembered where he lived half the time. He turned to another voice speaking.

“I am sorry my lord, this one was the easiest to snatch, none will miss him here. His parents died by his hand. We had a peak at his medical file he has more broken bones than any one child should”, a very English sounding voice said.

The familiar voice grunted, “Mmm, abused I assume?”, it asked, Luke was sober enough to recognize it as male.

Like kept his mouth shut for the moment. His nose detected a fruity smell in the air, not something a male would wear. His seat was extremely comfortable, very uncommon for a normal vehicle. Their proper speech meant they were upper class. He only knew this because he spent some time with a rich family. Luke was rather impressed his alcohol addled mind noticed so much.

A third dumb sounding voice, “Maybe we should remove the bag, milord?”, it asked

Milord immediately nixed the idea, “No, we wait until sobriety has taken hold. There is no telling what he will do”, there was a finality in the sentence.

“So what are your plans for me?”, Luke asked with a bit of a laugh.

Milord cleared his throat, “That depends greatly on what happens when the bag comes off. Tell me boy how often do you drink?”, His voice cracked a little, as if talking to Luke was painful.

“I have been drunk for the last three days”, Luke saw no reason to lie to his kidnappers.

Milord spoke to his associates, “Drying him out will be our first priority gentlemen. I refuse to present him to my wife like this. She has suffered enough, there is no need to put her through more”.

Luke realized where he knew the voice from and started to panic, “No, No NO! I killed you, I watched the life leave your eyes. I was free I WAS FRE...”, his tirade was cut short by a blow to the side of the head.

The great thing about alcohol is you sleep so deep you don't dream. For Luke this was the only escape from his past. His dreams were of his parents rotting away, all the while pointing at him. Their corpse like faces mocking him, telling him he would never achieve anything, and his worthless hide was only good for selling to the next pervert.

He awoke to the clink of chain, the musty smell, and softness underneath him. He opened his eyes, head pounding. He was in a lavish room, it reminded him of something he saw in Romeo and Juliet movie once. The bed itself had been carved, and the name Lucanus was staring at him. The sun was in his eyes and he hid from it like a vampire hissing at it. His ears picked up arguing in the hall.

“Dearest I do not think it wise to see him right now. I could kill Seymour for opening his mouth”, a male voice said angrily

A female voice shouted back, “He needs to be loved and cared for. That medical file was hair above the drivel Edgar Allen Poe wrote”

“He is not Lucanus”, the male voice shouted

The female voice screamed, “I know that. Nothing will ever replace what we lost. That young man is profoundly lost, and despite what you think husband of mine, he is still our blood. I will treat him as family end of discussion”, she burst through the door.

Her long honey blond hair and bright hazel eyes, and the familiar heart shaped face came closer

Luke scrambled cowering in the corner of the bed, “It's not real, Its not real. I died and I went to hell, this is my punishment for what I did...”, he said his eyes were darting wildly back and forth, he was shaking involuntarily, and the guilt he felt twisted in his gut like a knife.

The woman who looked like his mom fought him until she held Luke in her arms. She sighed softly, “You are not in hell Luke, just another reality, one that never came to pass on your world”, she said as she stroked his hair.

Luke stopped fighting and surrendered to her embrace, “I killed you because I couldn't take it anymore. I am so sorry....”, as you can imagine Luke was taking quite the turn over the whole thing. Thoughts and feelings he buried were now surfacing, add sobriety, and a distinct lack of alcohol he was devolving rapidly. “Whiskey”, he said in a shaky voice looking up at the woman with soulful eyes

The alternate mom shook her head, and a tear fell from her eye, she got up and left. Luke was left alone again. For thirty long painful days filled with screaming, shouting, cursing and swearing, Luke detoxed. When he began to level out again, they gave him another ten days to be sure. The situation was beyond delicate considering his history.

It was then the visits from Wentworth Holt began, a man who dressed like someone from the early nineteen hundreds. His tailcoat, pressed shirts and white gloves maybe marked him as a servant. His wrinkled face, and kind brown eyes watched Luke for a moment.

“How are we doing today?”, the man asked in a refined voice, “I am Wentworth, I was the young masters personal attendant”

Luke was not listening to him. His brown eyes were transfixed on a hip flask Wentworth had tucked in his belt. He was hypnotized by it, and now was waiting for his chance to strike. Not a word escaped his lips. His only goal was get his hands on the flask.

Wentworth started to lay out clothes, “I am sorry we locked you up, but we need you sober. I am also sorry you are caught up in something you just don't understand. I cannot imagine how you are feeling”, he paused an tousled Lukes brown hair.

Luke grabbed his arm and his other hand streaked toward the flask like a viper. Wentworth said something, and Luke felt like his hand was hitting a brick wall. Unfrotunately, Luke had leaned too far forward, causing him to crash into Wentworth and the pair tumbled onto the floor. Luke made a second attempt on the flask. Only to have Wentworth say something, causing him to slide across the floor. In addition to being denied the flask, his pride hurt as well. He was larger than Wentworth, he should have been the victor.

Luke gave up and glared at the Manservant, “What did you do?”

Wentworth pulled a chair up to where Luke leaned up against the wall, “Magic, this world is magic”, he said dusting off his uniform.

“Do I have magic?”, it was a valid question. Luke would never had believed had magic not been used on him personally

Wentworth smiled, “There is a strong possibility you will have it. However, we must make sure you have beaten the drink first. Drinking and casting often ends in disaster. Ask yourself do you want to live in a world of wonder, or continue to live in the bottle?”, the manservant did not sound harsh but there was genuine care in his voice.

“I want to try this world of wonder. Can I ask for something to eat?”, Luke was famished, he had barely eaten in the last few days. “Then I want to know why I was brought here”

Wentworth got up and headed to the door, “Anything in particular?”

“Sandwiches, and coffee please”, he said

Author's Note

I am still playing around with stuff so be kind

Reviews

[NATO KRYVAVRY]

P.S. Being abducted into an SUV, not a white van. Haha - see, haha got it wrong there. :)

[NATO KRYVAVRY]

The thought is excellent. Your story had me reading from start to finish and I can point my fingers on why. While there are a few typographical and semantic things that have been overlooked, they are very minor. Of course, all of us commit errors as the length of the work grows.

Going back to the story itself, among the things I appreciate are the transition, flow, and the properly placed descriptions. The transition from the world he was from to the world he came to seemed smooth to me. It even has a touch of irony because being abducted by a white van in this world pretty much spells doom. Meanwhile in this story, you used it as a tool to rescue the character into a seemingly better place. That's quite a pleasant reversal of expectation.

As for the descriptions, I said I find them properly placed because descriptions, especially the ones written in third person POV tend to be overly done and hence bore the reader sometimes. For this story, you have deftly avoided that and made the details work for you.

Lastly, the ending seemed propitious for Luke by the simple contrast of his initial request for "Whiskey" upon his arrival, and his more sober request for "sandwiches, and coffee" at the end of the story. Although it did leave me thinking, is it only because he want the incentive of magic that can only be given him when he's sober?

The fact that he was still overpowered by Wentworth in the same way he failed to fight back upon his abduction though, is indicative that while seemingly progressed, he still has a long way to go.

Cheers on this one!