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RedCurtainStories3

Updated on April 29, 2014

The Flying Boy

Beauty was placed in a higher grade, but she still seemed to know everything and so she was placed higher and higher in grades until there were no more grades to be placed in. Beauty had a choice; she could go to higher education or wait until she was older.

“I would rather go to college now and not wait,” Beauty said she was now twelve years old.

“Are you sure? You’re so small and people in college are in their twenties. It will be scary for a child,” Grandma said worriedly.

“It is my choice, Grandma. I will never let anything bad happen to me. I’ll probably already know everything anyway.”

“I’ll be all alone, Beauty,” Grandma said and grabbed Beauty’s hand and a tear began to form.

“You’re trying to make me feel guilty. I know you will be all alone, but not for long,” Beauty said and gave her Grandma a kiss and a huge.

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t tell you. I must go to bed, but I love you so much, even though it sounds childish. You have been with me all through my twelve years and I will never ever forget how accepting you were to me,” Beauty spoke with a very serious look on her face, and though she never ever cried a single tear ran down her cheek.

“Do you know something I don’t know?” Grandma asked, her face looked troubled, but she smiled.

“Good night,” Beauty said then walked away. Grandma stood there biting her lip and she looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her thick gray hair fell at her cheeks, and her brown eyes stared back.

“I am getting old. But old enough to … die,” Grandma never ever doubted Beauty’s words and she knew exactly what Beauty meant.

Beauty opened her drawing book and found the people in their houses fast asleep.

“Soon you will be the only people I love,” Beauty said to her drawing. Later that night, Beauty walked into her Grandma’s bedroom and found her sitting up in her bed reading a book.

“Beauty why aren’t you asleep?” Grandma asked solemnly. Beauty didn’t say a word; she just crawled in bed with her Grandma and laid her head on her shoulder, “You know I am sick, I don’t know why I tried to hide it from you. Cancer has taken a toll on my body; physically I cannot go on. I tried to deny the facts, but I cannot any longer,” Grandma spoke seriously but there were no tears.

“Dearest Grandma, my only mother I have ever known. I don’t want to lose you. I am not ready,” Beauty looked straight into her eyes and laid her head on her shoulder and both peacefully passed into dreams, but for Grandma she never awoke from hers.

Clyde’s Story

As a child, life was hard; my house was a mansion, my clothes always new, only the most expensive education for my schooling. Not to mention that toys filled my room and anything I wanted, I got. What I didn’t have was love. My dad was a shrewd business man, with a reputation to maintain. My mom was the head councilwoman in the town’s council. I was the troubled son that relished in my parent’s wealth, until the night I overheard my parent’s conversation. I was ten, and usually stayed up late playing video games or playing on my skate board in my well-sized room, when I heard my mom’s velvet voice in the next room, which was my father’s den.

“Milton, Clyde can’t keep doing this to us.”

“Doing what?” I heard my dad speak in an annoyed voice, which meant he was probably watching a football game.

“Milton...” Shirley hinted something.

“Oh, you mean how Clyde keeps failing,” I could imagine my mom nodding.

“Yes, we give him everything, and he never does his homework, the teacher says he is disrespectful and worst of all his favorite color is black,” I heard anger in my mom’s voice, then the low laughter of my dad.

“Ever since Clyde has been born he’s been a nuisance, a pain in my butt-”

“Milton!”

“What, he is nothing like me. If only you could have given me one more son.” There was silence for a few moments, and I walked over to my bed.

“With having Clyde, I don’t want any more children,” My mom never raised her voice, but it was very close this time. Confusion swept over me and my mom’s voice replayed in my head ‘Love you!’... But she didn’t love me.

“So what do you want me to do?”

“Milton I want you to find a solution.”

“No you want me to fund more schooling for our challenged son. We both know he has no hope, not even the teachers fake liking him, and still you, Shirley, try so hard to show love to that mistake of a son.” My eyes grew wide at that blunt remark.

“I want people to think I am a good mother, and I have been a good mother. I can’t help the fact that I dislike my son, and sometimes wish I never-” She stopped herself, “Well, people are beginning to wonder about Clyde. Our son is disgracing us. I think if we send him away for a while, we can focus on our work and, maybe he’ll be taught some skills,” her voice sounded empty of emotion.

“I like the idea of sending him away...”

“Yes, I thought you would.” I sat on my bed, still an immature kid, wondering what that conversation meant, and then I heard a gentle knock on my door.

“Yes,” I could barely speak, but naturally I answered.

“Oh, you’re still awake,” My mom entered with a pleasant smile, “I just wanted to say goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

That changed it all, from then on I knew that my mom was only acting when she was sweet and nice to me, and my dad never felt proud of me for anything I did. The next morning, I subconsciously decided to stop trying, trying to be the perfect son, which I was already failing at terribly. I looked into my full length mirror and pulled on my black jeans, then grabbed a black T-shirt that had white words that said “Forgotten” on it. I might have only been ten, but I held no hope for the future, unless it was possible to become the perfect son. I smiled at myself in the mirror in satisfaction, no my mom was not going to be happy with my appearance, but then again she will never be satisfied with me.

“Honey, your dad and I have been talking,” My mom stood before me as she handed me my packed lunch in a plane blue tin. I rolled my eyes, of course, I knew they were talking, I heard everything.

“We want to send you to camp “Riverside” this spring, for two weeks. Also, in the summer. They have a program for kids like you,” my mom kept her constant smile, though, her eyes showed disgust, “The whole summer.”

“You want to send me away!” I accused ready to start a fight, but then the bus arrived and my mom gently nudged me towards the door, and as I left I could hear her mutter something under her breath. I didn’t know what going to camp meant, but I knew that my mom wanted me gone, and my dad wanted it even more “He’s a pain in my butt” replayed in my head. I wasn’t going to camp willingly; I was going kicking and screaming. I thought about everything during school, when I was usually daydreaming of my skateboard. No matter what, I realized, I was going to CampRiverside, and maybe a little part of me wanted to go.

Okay, I really wanted to go. Staying at home would be boring and hurtful, knowing my parents resented me. That night, when I returned from soccer practice, I saw my dad’s black Hummer and I knew he was home early for a reason. I walked into the door prepared to be the biggest brat my parents have ever seen. They deserved that.

“Clyde?” I heard my dad yell from the living room. I then felt a little sick, like I couldn’t handle seeing my dad, now knowing how he felt about me.

“Yep,” I mustered up enough strength to respond.

“Me and your mother are going to have a little discussion with you, and it would be nice to see you in the living room. Now.” I rolled my eyes, but still fear arose in me, and I felt nauseous. I walked heavily on the wood floors making sure my footsteps were very audible. I heard my mom sigh. Then I revealed my disheveled self and noticed my mom looked perfect as always, and that my dad was still in his work clothes.

“What do you want?”

“Sit down, boy,” My dad’s face was already beat red. I sat on the couch but slouched down immediately.

“Like I told you this morning, your dad and I are going to send you to-”

“Hell?” I mocked, and I didn’t dare make eye-contact. That really set my dad off and he was up in my face within a second.

“You listen to me you little mistake,” he whispered this, though, I knew my mom heard it,

“We will not tolerate your retorts and disrespect any longer. Nor will we tolerate your idiotic brain, how can you possibly be my son?” He kept a constant stare with me, and my face fell in horror.

“I think what Milton is trying to say is that you have been a very disappointing son. And we need time away from you, time to focus on our work,” My mom interjected in her sweet tone, but it sounded like the devil was speaking to me. My dad laughed.

“Yeah, we just need time away from you,” He mocked, “What we really need is a better son. Get it.” I sat on the couch for a moment trying to recover and suddenly a burst of anger welled within me.

“Oh, I get it. I get that you’re both hate me and even if I do try at my school work, only perfection is expected. Maybe black is my favorite color because the only time I’m happy is when you both are at home and that’s only at night when you’re sleeping because you’re too tired to spend time with your only son. I get that you wish I was never born, and that what people think about you is much more important than what I might need.”

“We’ve given you everything you need,” my mother spoke defensively.

“What about you?” I looked at my parents, my dad sat back down on his recliner, seemingly distant in thought.

“I didn’t get a word that you said,” My dad looked at me with a slicing grin, “I don’t want to hear any more of your two-year-old tantrum. You are being sent to camp, and if you get any worse, we might just leave you there.” I looked at his face in utter shock, and then glanced at my mothers, but she held a blank stare. Then I ran with all my might towards the stairs, but something very strange happened to me. Was I actually insane? I was flying, literally flying at a high speed towards the staircase and I couldn’t stop myself. I crashed into the railing, my side cracked loudly and I fell to the ground. I quickly looked up to see if my parents had seen what had just happened and I saw their faces, they revealed horror. My mom didn’t run over to me, and my dad looked at me in disgust as he grabbed his wife’s arm and pulled her to their bedroom, leaving me on the ground holding my side. A couple things were going through my mind, the first was that I was pretty stoked about flying, and yet extremely confused, and the second was wondering how my parents could be so cold, so unparent-like. I slowly stood up grimacing at the pain, yet, still exhilarated…

I was sent to camp “Riverside” that spring and summer, and it wasn’t too bad, except for the rules and restrictions, I could tell the moment I arrived at Riverside, that I was in for some major disciplining. Man, did those counselors hate me. I was always smug and making jokes. After my flying incident I realized that I could do some pretty sweet stuff, it was as if I were a prodigy in everything that took movement. I mean if I wanted to be a ballerina, I would be perfect at it, but rather, I chose skateboards and bikes and when I was completely alone... Flying. At camp I annoyed the counselors and could always out run them, even when I was punished all they would make me do was climb the climbing wall five times, which was super fun. I never got exhausted, well, only when I finally rested at night. But then again, I knew that being so bad at camp would result in something negative, and finally they kicked me out. They told my parents I had talent, but I was definitely beyond uncontrollable. Of course, this upset my parents very much, and they never spoke to me. I could tell my mom was a little frightened of me and the one time I tried to ask her about my “flying” she acted, as though, it had never happened.

Then one day as I came home from hanging out in the park with my skateboard and gang, I saw a slick black car in the driveway. I curiously looked inside the car noticing a folder on the passenger seat; it read “The case of Beauty” on it. I shrugged my shoulders, then started for my house again, but was abruptly stopped by a man, actually I ran into his chest.

“Why, hello Clyde. I’m Mr. Livingston.”

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    • vkwok profile image

      Victor W. Kwok 

      4 years ago from Hawaii

      Looks like trouble is coming. Can't wait for the next chapter.

    working

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