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Post by SwitchbladeNymphony on Sun Mar 23, 2008 5:21 am

It's pretty sucky in the beginning. It takes place in 1993-

If someone's named is Edgy, please ignore it because I just missed to change that.


Denise Coleman rolled her black ten speed bike to a stop in front of the familiar, crisp, clean cut yard. This particular yard belonged to her best bud, Corey Nicholson, or as she was referred to among close friends, Nickel. Denise called Nickel hoarsely to come out of the house. She was way to lazy and tired to get off the small boyish bike. Denise was very much the silly tomboy of her group. She was always the one climbing up to the very top of the tallest trees, mooning innocent passerby, and getting dirty enough for people to mistake her for a totally different race. Some angry shouting was heard from inside the quaint little cottage. Denise knew Nickel had trouble with her parents. They were big alcoholics, and Nickel often spent nights sleeping in the abandoned building them and the gang had broken into. Now this wasn’t a real big building, just about 15 ft by 13 ft, brick, and padlocked. There was an opening in the roof you could get to if you climbed a nearby tree, and it was a very difficult tree to climb.

The others and I were aware that Nickel did this every other night. We understood. We all had our problems. I had even stayed with Nickel a couple times before.

I usually kept all my pain inside. I knew it wasn’t healthy. It would all burst out once it became too much.

I guess that was my problem. I knew I was different from everyone else. I was a piece from a different puzzle. I didn’t fit, and others noticed. On the outside, I was a kooky confused teen that often said things that didn’t make sense. On the inside, it was totally different. The inside was dark. Dark and misunderstood. And only Nickel had ever seen it before. That was how close we were.

Nickel suddenly burst out of the peeling screen door. It slammed behind her but was quickly yanked open again by her apparently wasted father.

“You had better be back here by nighttime you bratty little twat!” roared the stumped little monster of a man, swaying violently on his filthy paint splattered boots, the horrid reek of alcohol wafting off of the tub o lard as if a fan were on high behind him. His trailer park potbelly hung over the rags of his good jeans, and between the filthy black suspenders. Looking at him, I suddenly hated him. Pure hate toward this lowlife, no good, worthless piece of sh*t. Mr. Nicholson was a construction worker. I doubted he would be any cleaner if he had a different job. He looked momentarily confused before Nickel nastily exclaimed, “Go screw a goat you racist pig.” “WHAT?! WHAT DID YOU SAY TO ME YOU SON OF A WH*RE!!.” Oh sh!t. Nickel jumped on the handlebars of my bike with excellent skill, and we took off, me peddling for dear life. No one wanted to mess with Mr. Nicholson once he had been crossed. You could still see signs of Nickel’s last punishment across her left cheek, and around her right temple. The split lip had healed quickly. Nicholson’s frustrated and drunken shouts had faded out once we rounded the corner.

“Jesus H. Christ On A Bicycle,” I exclaimed not peddling as fast as I had been. “He’s going to be so pissed when you get home tonight. You didn’t have to say that.”

Nickel hopped off once we had rolled to a stop in front of the secluded park swings, and jumped onto the jungle gym, her skinny legs dangling over the side of the wooden plaything. Not many people went there. It was shady and no one else was there that day except for us, and I was thankful for the alone time.

“Who the hell are you? My mother?”, she retorted. “And who says I’m going home tonight anyways? Like I want to hear that tonight.” When she was done speaking she looked away from me. I could tell she was still angry about whatever she and her father had been fighting over. I leaned the bike against a large pine, walked over, and quietly sat down on one of the swings. A squeeeak was heard as the ancient chain links tightened and rubbed together. I gazed up at her curiously, wanting to know what the issue was, and decided not to ask. If she wanted to tell me, she would. If she didn’t, it was ok. I respected her privacy.

“Hey! Hey Guys!”, I heard a familiar voice shout. Both Nickel and I turned our heads in the direction from which the voice came. It was our good pal Ed, along with Jane. Ed wasn’t her real name of course, just a pet name we had given her a while back. He real name was Edgar Brody. As I’ve said before, we all had our problems, and Ed’s was that she was kidnapped by her crazed Aunt Beatrice when Edgy was 9 years old. Beatrice Brody had escaped from Greenville Mental Institution two days before. Brody had kept Ed in the trunk of a stolen 70s Volvo Brody had jacked for 2 and a half weeks. Edgy almost died from starvation and dehydration. Brody was stopped at the state line. The toll booth man had heard Ed banging on the roof of the trunk and yelling. When Brody realized she had been caught, she drove straight through the wooden gate. Toll booth man called the police and they were caught 3 hours later. Ed had never been quite right after that incident. Not to mention the fact that she was constantly ragged on about her boyish name. I liked it. But of course, I’m weird that way. Jane was the happy bubbly personality of the group. She was a chubby gal, but silly as a goose. Her only trouble was that her father had been put in jail 2 years before for brutally murdering a co-worker and his whole immediate family. No one knew the reason. We all had just guessed the he had been pushed over the edge. It was the only subject that could put Jane in a sour mood. Ed and Jane Gallagher completed the gang. We didn’t have a name, and we didn’t mind. We were just, the gang. Younger kids were awed at us and the older kids just ignored us completely.

Ed was walking along side Jane, pushing her bicycle. Her bicycle wasn’t tomboyish like mine. It was blue, which I thought was a preppy color, and I let her know it. When they reached us, Jane took one look at Nickel and asked dumbly,” What’s up Nickel? Why the long face?”. Both Ed and I shook our heads solemnly at Jane. Her bright smile faded. “Oh” she muttered.

Ed leaned her bike against the ancient pine tree, and quietly sat down in the swing next to mine. Hers made no noise. Jane flopped down on the green wooden bench, and when no one started speaking, started picking at the old chipped paint on the bench.

“Oh My God! Did anyone catch the news this morning?!,” I asked, breaking the silence, not believing I could have forgotten about it.

“My mom did!” Edgy announced. “I couldn’t believe it when I heard. I-I try not to.”

“What? What happened?!”, Jane asked eagerly, giving us her undivided attention.

We didn’t want to tell her, couldn’t, but she had to know.

“River Phoenix….overdosed, last night.”, I couldn’t believe what was coming out of my mouth. River had been an idol of ours ever since we saw Stand By Me many years ago. We had all loved him, all of us had immense crushes on him as well. I had felt my heart break when I heard the terrible news. I had cried my eyes out, alone in my room. My mom had been out, and had told me to not leave the house as I had to baby-sit my little sister, Jeanne. Our phone had been cut off the week before, since we couldn’t make the payment. Same with Ed.

Pure silence. None of us spoke. Rushes of mixed feelings and awe rushed through my body, heart, and mind all over again.

“What do you think you’re playing at?!” We all turned in surprise to see an angry Nickel towering over us on the jungle gym. Her piercing, infuriated voice reminded me faintly of her father, and it was sort of frightening. I could almost see a small tear escaping from her warm blue eyes. “If this is some kind of joke Coleman, it’s not f*cking funny!”.

“I make jokes, but I don’t play around like that! You know that Nick! I’m not as sick as someone who delivers death jokes!”. I had stood up quickly and turned around to face Nickel head on. “How could you ever think that I would be like that?! And about River! River is dead!.”

It was then that I shocked everyone.

I burst into tears. Full on red faced tears. I quickly covered my face and turned around. I never cried like this in front of anyone. No one but family had ever seen me cry.

It was quiet for a while. After a bit I felt someone touch my shoulder. I slowly turned around to see tears escaping Ed’s face. I looked up to see Jane doing the same. Nickel was back in her original spot, except now her face was buried in her thick hoodie.

I sat back down on my swing, and held the chain links loosely in my hands, my face hung low. I studied the marks in the sand, and tried not to think of what had once been.

My head still hanging, I quietly murmured, “I’m sorry.” After what seemed like 2, 3, maybe 4 days, Jane broke the thick ice. I didn’t hear. I wasn’t paying attention. I was still thinking about River. About all the time I had spent posting pictures of him up on my wall above my bed, all the time we had spent talking about him. Still Jane keeps trying to tell us she saw him down at the Exxon by the YMCA pumping gas.

In an hour or 2, Jane had to leave to go home. Ed followed, since they lived much closer to each other than Nickel and I. The atmosphere was starting to darken. I didn’t have to be home. It’s not like my parents gave a rat’s ass about me anyway. I was constantly ignored, the Invisible Kid.

“Com’ on Nick.” I got up and grabbed my bike. I didn’t get on it, but slowly walked it and Nickel followed me on the other side. The walk was going to take 30 minutes at the rate we were walking, but I didn’t care. It gave us more time to talk.

I could hear the crickets chirping everywhere in the dusk. It was extremely humid but I didn’t dare take off my jacket for fear of itchy, biting mosquitoes which were very common at that part of the year.

“I think I will go home tonight. He’ll probably be passed out by the time I get home. He was really hammered earlier. Probably won’t even remember the fight.” Nickel said, at first looking at the ground but then up at the sky, into the woods, wistfully, hoping, but not really believing.

“If you really don’t want to go back, you can stay at my place.” I offered. I knew Nickel wouldn’t accept. She was too proud to depend on anybody, even me.

“No I-.“ Nickel started but stopped abruptly as a crack was heard in the brush, like a twig breaking. I always had this feeling someone was watching me, and I sure as hell felt it now.

I switched around, staring blankly into the dark, searching for an answer. My eyes caught a glimpse of movement 20, maybe 30 feet from where we stood. We definitely weren’t alone.

“Stay here.” I whispered and starting creeping toward where I had seen the movement. “Deni, I-I don’t really think you should go over there. We should just keep walking-.” As tough as Nickel acted, I sure was surprised inside to see her acting this way now. Maybe she felt something. Something seriously out of place. Something that scared the living sh*t out of her as it was doing the exact same to me.

But still I crept on. Curiosity was killing me inside.

I didn’t know why I had to know what was lurking in the brush. I just felt I had to. An obligation. Like if I didn’t figure it out, it would gnaw at me for the rest of my life. Pick at me until I bled with insanity. I felt like something was pushing me through the darkness. I felt like a blind old man probably did when he was in a dark place, and he gets the feeling someone, or something is there, and he’s scared sh*tless because he can’t see if it’s a beautiful woman or a demon of the night waiting for his last breath. But he creeps on because it’s gnawwws . . . it gnawwws at his tendons and gnawwws at his ancient ticker and gnawwws at his joints like a serial arthritis.

I felt it before I saw it, even before I heard it. A fear. As if a ghoul had flown through my heart and had frozen me solid.

Nickel screamed bloody murder, her shriek ringing through the cold night air. I whipped around to see Nickel gone, the leaves whisping around where she once stood.

Fright gripped my soul and shook it. I flipped around trying to look in 5 different directions at once and saw nothing. Frosted air whipped my face and stung my eyes.

“Corey!!!” I wailed in terror. My eyes wide, I started to run. I ran screaming, my cries tearing through the atmosphere like a knife. My eyes darted back and forth in the blackness and suddenly I saw.

A shape leaned against a tree not 7 yards from where I stopped rooted to the spot. Inching closer, I heard the thing wheezing and heaving, it’s breaths short and quick. Where the face should’ve been was covered in blood. Nickel’s blood. The thing wheezing and heaving was my best friend Nickel.

A long and deep gash etched across her cheek and blood ran down her face. Blood trickled out of the corner of her mouth and slipped down her neck into her jacket. Under her breast her jacket was stained a deep maroon color and the pool was steadily growing.

I ran to her, breathless, horrified at the nightmare I saw that was once my friend. I knelt down and ran my fingers along the stain. It was fresh blood, and the flow wasn’t stopping. I attempted to unzip it and Nickel let out a raspy gasp. Dirty tears were running down my face making tiny racetracks across my cheeks.

I unzipped it all the way. When I took my fingers away, blood was on my pointer and middle. I pulled her jacket open and peeled her bloody wet shirt up off her skin. Four jagged lines of red tore across her side from her bellybutton to almost her ribcage. It looked like a bad Freddy Krueger wound. My imagination made it seem like liquid red was gushing out her stomach.

I didn’t dare touch it. “Oh Nickel . . .” I heard come from my mouth, so quietly. She stared off away from me, straight ahead, her eyes wide and full of fear. She was still wheezing.

I watched Nickel as her breaths started getting less and less, and not as rigid. Then her breathing just stopped.

"Oh Nickel," I breathed again. My face screwed up in a sob, I gently swept her dead eyes shut. I leaned into her, and wept for my dear, my best friend, Nickel Nicholson.


Epilogue-The beast rampaged throughout the small suburban town of Dowry, killing 12 adults, 8 children, and 23 pets before it was hunt down and torn apart by grieving and revengeful residents of Dowry.

Jane and Ed lived on and graduated Parkland Highschool in 1997. They are both happily married with children and Jane expecting.

Falling into a deep depression and an unhealthy lifestyle after her friend Nickel was killed, Denise Coleman overdosed on heroin when she was 19.

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Re: glitter

Post by MintCoco!!! on Sun Mar 23, 2008 5:28 am

Okay thats A LOT of stuff to read!!!!! Laughing Laughing Laughing

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Re: glitter

Post by SwitchbladeNymphony on Sun Mar 23, 2008 5:30 am

you're lucky. it was going to be a novel.

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Re: glitter

Post by MintCoco!!! on Sun Mar 23, 2008 5:34 am

lol..okay

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Re: glitter

Post by Just because I hate u on Fri Mar 28, 2008 11:10 pm

Dude why Denise had to die too No men this was sad Jane and Ed get's a magnifico life Denise overdoses =[ But that was a great story they really did make a perfect group all of them had a famliy problem that ends up scaring them. Nice should been a part to to this about Jane and Ed life after Nickel and Denise death.
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Re: glitter

Post by MintCoco!!! on Sat Mar 29, 2008 1:27 am

huh...??

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Re: glitter

Post by SwitchbladeNymphony on Sat Mar 29, 2008 3:15 am

i think i started this in june maybe and finished it in november.

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Re: glitter

Post by Just because I hate u on Sat Mar 29, 2008 3:26 am

Are you going to write another part to this?
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Re: glitter

Post by MintCoco!!! on Sat Mar 29, 2008 4:00 am

Yeah..she should its good!

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Re: glitter

Post by SwitchbladeNymphony on Sat Mar 29, 2008 5:07 am

maybe. im not a writer. it takes forver to get something out.

i believe this paragaph is influenced by stephen king-
I didn’t know why I had to know what was lurking in the brush. I just felt I had to. An obligation. Like if I didn’t figure it out, it would gnaw at me for the rest of my life. Pick at me until I bled with insanity. I felt like something was pushing me through the darkness. I felt like a blind old man probably did when he was in a dark place, and he gets the feeling someone, or something is there, and he’s scared sh*tless because he can’t see if it’s a beautiful woman or a demon of the night waiting for his last breath. But he creeps on because it’s gnawwws . . . it gnawwws at his tendons and gnawwws at his ancient ticker and gnawwws at his joints like a serial arthritis.

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Re: glitter

Post by MintCoco!!! on Sat Mar 29, 2008 10:59 pm

Woww.....did you write that its lyk kinda gross

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Re: glitter

Post by SwitchbladeNymphony on Sat Mar 29, 2008 11:22 pm

lol no it's not. and yes i did

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Re: glitter

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