Daniel and the Stranger on the Bench

My name is Aven Derrice. I'm sixteen and I am writing this journal because with the life style that I am now living, these could be my last words. To my parents: I love you. I’ve never realized how lucky I was to have parents like you, especially after seeing how bad some parents can be. To my friends: you guys are the best. I’m sorry about all the things that I put you through this week. I won’t be bothering you anymore.

           

            It started a week ago. I was walking home from the last day of school on my street, Lily Pond Rd., even though there is and there has been no pond ever to exist near us, in Dayton, California, a small town four hours from L.A. Every house was one-story and was different.  The houses were built around the eighties and nothing much had changed since than. The weather was great. The summer sun shone white in the oh-so blue sky. It was about 80 today and there was gentle breeze. I was wearing my school uniform, a dark blue sweater vest over a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a pair of tan khakis.  Kids fresh celebrating the beginning of summer vacation were playing in the streets and in the front yard. I saw my neighbor Miss Collins working in her luscious, front yard garden.

 She was the happiest person I had ever known. She was middle aged, was a bit round but in good health, and she lived alone. Her frizzy red hair was always kept down by the large yellow sunhat. She was wearing the pair of old blue jean she always wore when in her garden. There was something different about the garden. There was something that didn't belong there. It was a girl leaning against the small magnolia tree, the only tree in Miss Collins's garden. She looked about my age but she was so different.

            She didn't belong in the garden with so many colorful plants. She was wearing what looked like a less poofy version of a French maid's dress that dropped down to her knees. and fish net hose. Her shoulder length ink-black hair was straight and glistened like silk and all of it was parted to her right side, covering her right eye. Three dark purple streaks, like purple bolts, went through her hair. The eye that I could see was dark blue. The eye gave me heart-stopping glare.

            Miss Collins looked up and she gave me a big welcoming smile, "Aven!" she called, "come meet my niece."

            I walked slowly, even cautiously. I couldn't help but be nervous. Here was this girl who liked she walked right out Goth town, and now she was staring me down.

            Miss Collins came meet me at the white picket fence waving her arm for the girl to come over. The girl didn't want to but she rolled eyes quickly and dragged her feet to us. When she came out of the shade, her ivory skin glowed like snow in the sun. Miss Collins put her hands around the girl giving her a quick hug. The girl didn't like it.

            "This is Daniel. She's my brother's daughter. Have I ever told you about her?"

            "Um... no ma'am. I don't think so," I nervously replied.

             "Daniel. This is Aven. He lives next door." she leaned in closer to me and whispered, "She's from Canada. She had some issues at home and her dad sent her down here for the summer as- well, he called it punishment but I think that's too harsh. Were calling it a vacation."

            I was able to mutter, "Ok?", but that was about it.

            She turned back to Daniel, "How about you go over to Aven's house for the afternoon. He could introduce you to some of his friends."

            I was about to give her the "I have a lot of homework" but I didn't have time. Miss Collins was pushing Daniel out the gate, "Now you two have fun, but not too much. Ok?"

            "Yes ma'am," we both muttered in a miserable chorus.

            And than for some reason we actually walked next door for my house. My house was a ordinary one-story house with a brown roof and solid white walls. It's too ordinary to go into details. I had no clue why I was doing this. I should have just gave her the excuse and walked away but there was a part of me, a starved "Jiminy Cricket" that had just enough strength to sway my opinion for a second. I didn't want to be rude.

            As we walked up to my front door I decided that there wasn't a better time to start talking.

            "What kind of music do you listen to?" I asked. I was already guessing that she listened to some sort of Goth rock band or something horribly dark.

            She rolled her eyes, "If that's really how you want to start a conversation, I don't listen to any of the garbage that wasn't composed within the last century." There was a pretty good bit of bitterness in her tone. Her voice was very flat and with no hint of any accent. 

            I forced a laugh, "So I'm guessing you like classical?"

            She didn't answer. I opened the door for her and she walked in, keeping her eyes straight ahead into the den.

            “Can you take off your shoes, please?” I requested. She kicked off her black ankle high boots. 

 The den was just as boring, as the outside of the house. White generic carpet, brown couch, and a medium sized TV in front of it was a shelf of all our family photos. She picked up a photo of me back when I was baby, lying down on my stomach butt-naked. I was a pretty chubby baby and I hated that picture. She just looked at with her half opened eye.

            “This is you?” she asked.

            “When I was like one.”

            She put it back down and back came the uncomfortable silence.

            “Wana go to my room?” I suggested.

            “Can’t be any more boring than it is down here,” she muttered.

            We walked down the narrow hall, which had a few pictures of scenery hanging on the wall. I pointed to a door to our right.

            “That’s the bathroom. So you don’t have to ask.”

            She didn’t respond.

            “Ok…. My room is right here,” I reached to open for the next door but she grabbed my wrist. I looked at her and she was actually grinning.

            “I’m thirsty can you get me a glass of water?” she asked so politely.

            “Um. Sure.” It was so weird to see a smile on this girl, “You can go on in and make yourself at home.”

            “Ok.” She kind of tilted her head.

            I walked back through the den and into the kitchen. It was a modest kitchen. White counter tops and off-white tile. Dark brown, wooden cabinets. I reached into one of the cabinets and pulled out a clear glass. I filled it up with water from the sink, hoping that she wasn't picky. Than came a loud thud. I ran back to my room and found Daniel getting off from the floor. When she stood up I could see that the shattered remains of my digital alarm clock was on the wood-planked floor.

            "I'm sorry," she pointed to a messy stack of old gym clothes, "I tripped on that pile of clothes." She clenched her teeth, "This room is filthy but it's not boring." She had noticed the small book shelf, packed with some of my favorite novels. My collection consisted of mainly modern science fiction and fantasy.

            I got out the broom in my closet and swept up the pieces of metal and plastic, "How hard did you fall?"

            She ignored me. She walked over to my bookshelf and ran her finger across the books, examining them closely.

            "I spoke too soon. You only have fiction?" she mocked.

            I gave her a shrug, "I get what I like."   

            "So you'd rather read about fictional worlds and fictional events than read about real things and try to gain some sort of useful knowledge."

            "In a nutshell, yes, and I really don't care what you think," I growled, thinking that was going to anger her.

            She showed that ghoulish grin, "That's a nice way of living."

            I was lost at words. She pulled out a book from the very top of the shelf. It was a children's book, my favorite as a kid. It's cover showed a knight riding on a horse and seven green, stumpy goblins covered in warts chasing after him. It was called The Knight and the Seven Goblins.  I remembered how much I loved the book and every night I looked forward mom would read it at bed time.

            "I'm guessing this is what started it all?" she asked with soulless voice.

            "It was my favorite as a kid."

            "So what's it about?"

            I had the plot memorized.

            "It's about this knight that was the wisest in the land. He was riding through the forest when one goblin came up to him warning, "This forest belongs to us the seven goblins." The knight than decides to make a deal with the goblin, "If you seven goblins can give me a riddle I can not solve, than I can make sure that no one comes to this forest again, but if I win than all seven must leave this forest." The goblin accepts and tells his brothers. The first goblin came up to him and gave him this riddle, "I have hands that do not hold and a face that doesn't see or smell."

            "A clock," Daniel answered.

            "Yeah. I know. That's the easiest."

            "So is that all the knight had to do?"

            "Pretty much but the riddles got harder, and harder as he went. The second goblin asked hi-"

            "Yes. Yes. He answers another childish riddle and does the same thing six more times. What makes this story so special that you still keep it in your personal collection?"

            "Well it's the last riddle. The last goblin was the oldest and smartest of the seven. His riddle was a little odd. My mom couldn’t figure it out when she first read it. The goblin told him a story.

 

“There once was an evil wizard. He took 3 women from their homes and turned them into rose bushes that looked exactly alike. He put them in his garden. One of the women had a husband and children and begged the wizard to let her see them. He agreed. At night, he brought the woman to her house. In the morning he came and took her home. One day the husband decided to go rescue her. So he snuck into the wizard's garden. He looked and looked at the 3 identical rose bushes trying to figure out which could be his wife. Suddenly, he knew the answer and he took his wife home. How did he know which rose bush was his wife?””

 

            She actually looked interested, “So how did he do it?”

            “The wizard brought the rosebush to her home at night and returned her to the garden in the morning. Therefore, she was the only plant without dew.”

            “That’s not too bad for a children’s book.”

            “Yeah, so the knight solved it and the goblins left the forest forever.”

            It felt like my words echoed somewhere. We stood there in yet another moment of awkward silence. She slid the book

            Believe it or not, she broke it. "So what did you have planned."

            "What?" I tried to look as if I didn't know what she was talking about.

            "You were about to give some excuse to my aunt before she forced me over here. I know you were. So what? You have plans with friends or something?"

            She had me. I was never any good at lying. I did make plans with my best friends Ivan, Bret, Nana to go bowling.

            “Yeah I’m going to the bowling alley to meet them. I have to change out of these clothes first.” I told her walking to where my second closet was. I had two closets, one for clothes and one for junk. My bed was pretty low so nothing could really fit under it but maybe a few board games, which there I haven’t owned since like 5^th grade.

            “Do you need me to leave the room?”

            “No. I have a walk in closet. I’ll change in there.”

            She turned and went back to looking at the books. I stepped into my clothes closet and closed the door behind me. I felt for the switch in the dark and flipped it. I wouldn’t exactly say my closet was a walk in but there was no other way to describe it. It was only few yards long and less wide. I barley had room to change. I put on a pair of jeans and a black Polo shirt. I pulled my cell phone and wallet out from the khakis. I put the wallet in my back pocket and flipped open the phone.

            I text to my friend, Ivan, “Come get me. Bringing over new girl. She’s odd”

            After a few seconds, the phone vibrated. “What u mean by odd?”

          “I mean that she’s a bit gothic. Don’t be rude.”

            “K '_'”

            I put the phone away and walked out.

            "I'm ready. Do you need to change?" I asked Daniel, who was sitting on the bed, staring off. I actually wanted her to change. It would have been, well, emberassing to be seen with someone dressed so oddly.

            "I'm fine as I am," she announced as she got up, straightning her dress out.

            "Ok than. My friends are going to be here soon."

            "Your friends don't have names?" She sounded interested to meet them. I was starting to think that this terrifying girl with the sharp tounge was just a lonly softy, looking for friends.  

            I gave her a grin, "I'll introduce you when they get here."

            We walked back to the front door when I heard the muffled sound of a honk. I opened the door and there was Ivan's silver 98' Mustang sat in front of my front of my house.

            "Oh! Are you two going somewhere?" Misses Collins shouted from her yard.

            "Yes ma'am," I replied, "Were going going to the bowling alley."

            "That's fine, dear. Daniel don't forget your curfew."

            I turned to Daniel, "And what would this curfew be?"

            She rolled her eye, "I have to be home at ten. That's when my dad calls to check in and makes sure that I'm trapped in that horrible house."

            I looked over to Misses Collins who went back to tending the plants and said quietly, "You don't like your aunt much do you?"

            "No, not much. That's why my dad sent me here. Living with someone that charasmatic is well like living in hell."

            "Try living next door with that for your whole life," I muttered with sympathy and for the first time I heard her laugh. It was chilling and had a chime to it. It was as if she let some alter ego loose for a second.

            We got in the back of the car where there was room for three in the back. We were greeted by three curious gazes. Ivan, a very tan guy with spiky black hair and eyes to match, was in the driver's seat and Nana, a tall, slim girl with silky blonde hair and brown eyes, was sitting up front. Bret had moppy brown hair and had hazel eyes, and was sitting at the end of the back seat. I got in the middle and Daniel sat by the window. He didn’t say a word and didn’t seem as fascinated by Daniel as the others. He was probably just shy. He often went nights without saying a word unless spoken to.

            "Guys, this is Daniel, she's staying next door with her aunt."

            Ivan looked at Daniel in the rear view mirror as he pulled onto the road, "How long are you down here, Daniel?"

            She looked down, at her feet, "I'm stuck down here till school starts."

            Now Nana turned, "And where are you from?" she had a bit of harsh tone.

            Daniel looked up and gave her a cold look in return, "Toronto," she sighed

            "Oh wow," Nana said sarcastically, "Isn't it hot in that- uh- dress?"

            "I'm fine," Daniel continued very calmly.

            "Is that how everyone dresses in Canada?"

            "Yes we all dress like freaks."

            Nana turned around, "Hey. You said it not me." I could see that she was grinning. Nana wasn't mean. This was just a test of character. I know it sounds weird but that's what happened when your dad was a psychologist that didn't keep his home life and his work life very well separated. She wasn't sweet either. She was some where in the middle of nice and cold hearted.

            I kicked the back of Nana's seat and whispered, "Go easy on her. Non of your mind games, please?"

            "You know, Aven your no fun sometimes."

            "Well I don't think this the kind of girl you'd want to start a fight with."

            She didn't listen and turned right back to Daniel, "So why did you leave lovely Toronto?"

            "Is it really any of your business?"

            Nana shrugged, "I guess not, but hiding things doesn't really make a good first impression."

            I was getting ready to jump in between the two to keep them from getting in a cat fight.

            "And neither does picking a fight with someone you just met. You know Mom doesn't like it when you do that to people," Ivan inserted, giving Nana a discouraging glance. Ivan and Nana were stepsiblings. Her dad married Ivan's mother six years ago. Ivan was a basketball player but he was an outcast to the jocks. He wasn't a meathead like most of them were and he didn't like anybody he played with. The only thing that kept him on the team was his love for the sport.

            Nana rolled her eyes, "I'm sorry for picking at you like that,” she apologized half-heartedly, "You seem like a nice person."

            "I understand, but I'm not nice. I just know when someone is attempting to aggravate me."

            Nana unbuckled seatbelt and turned around her grew a large smile, "Your not bad.”

            Daniel tried to give a small smile, but she looked uncomfortable, "You’re not too bad either."

            "I really do like your dress. If more people would dress like you with out being embarrassed, than there would be a less stress."

            Daniel raised an eyebrow in confusion, "Um.. Thanks?"

            "Nana, seatbelt!" barked Ivan.

            “What ever you say brother dearest”

            She got back in her seat.

            I took a deep breath of relief, since the drama appeared to be over with. I looked out the window to see that we were already in the business district of Dayton. Little stores lined up the street and we came to a halt at a red light. There weren’t that many people walking on the sidewalk, but there was one person who didn’t belong.

            It was a guy that looked a little older than me. He was wearing an Angel’s t-shirt, an Angel’s baseball cap, and tan cargo shorts. There was bushy white hair that reminded me of all those pictures of Albert Einstein, sticking out from the sides of the cap, but he looked too young for it. Was it a wig? He just sat there playing a Play Station Portable, and if I didn’t know any better, I could have sworn that he looked up and gave me wink as if saying “I see you”. I turned around to see Daniel deep into a little, black book that apparently came out of no where, and Bret was giving me a worried look. He obviously saw the guy too.

“Do you know him?” Bret asked

“No,” I quickly answered, “I guess he thought I was someone else. Do you?”

He shook his head and whispered, “Not personally. I heard he moved into a place out of town. I think his name is Bert Stienen, or something like that.”

 I was about to ask if anyone else knew about him, but I just told myself, staring at Daniel, it was just another oddball I had to put up with this summer.   

Reviews

[Kevin Vorshak]

Hi CL, I saw your request on the Pagemaster's group and thought I'd check out your story. I want to start out by saying that your first paragraph is a really good hook. Something that is hard to do. I've not seen your other work, but this is good. With that said, I want to make a few suggestions if I may. One is, you need to go back through this and edit it. There are a number of small typos and misspelled words. Another thing you may want to look at is how passive many of the sentences are. The more active a writing is, the more engrossing readers find it.

I would suggest (and I have this book myself) Strunk and Whites Elements of Style. It's an exceptional reference book for writers, even if it is almost 100 years old! Its amazing how helpful it can be for understanding good writing.

As far as whether or not you should continue writing stories, my answer is YES if you want to. My only suggestion is to start with short stories and submit those before tackling something as involved as a book. I have ideas for books, but am still working on getting some of my short stories published (yes, I am not published. I'm hoping to be and part of what doesn't help me is that I don't submit my work). Even if I never get published, I enjoy writing stories and do it for that reason only. If you enjoy writing stories, I suggest you continue. Good luck and I hope you find this helpful.

[Nick Erickson]

That is a good start. I especially like how you described your house, very plain. Your beginning paragraph, telling your friends and family they wouldn't have to worry any longer is a nice attention grabber, one to build on for a great ending. You built up, (who I think are your main characters - Aven & Daniel) fairly fast and good. All in all, this is a good start to a possible story, one that you can build on. You even have the "stranger"...