On the Writing of Books

Post date: Oct 17, 2012 9:22:03 PM

This story, by Rhys Glennon, won First Prize in the 2011-2012 Maple Leaf Book Competition.

On the Writing of Books

By Rhys Glennon

Week 1

***

Leo stared at the piece of paper. $500? He'd never shown interest in writing. The teacher thought he'd be interested in a writing contest?

Actually, he was. It sounded like fun. And a $500 prize, that would get them to France and back. Oh, yes. He was going to win.

***

“The Oak Leaf Writing Project.” Charlotte mouthed the words. Project. She'd never had a real project in her life. $500. Her whole family could go see John in the hospital. Oh, yes. She was going to win.

***

“$500? Sweet!” Ian stared at the piece of paper. A writing contest? He could cheat the judges somehow. 10 weeks? Easy. $500? He could get a new X-Box and Ninja Zombies: 5000, with some to spare. Oh, yes. He was going to CRUSH the competition!

Week 2 ***

Charlie raced up the corridors, dodging past screaming people. He burst through the door and saw the dragon. 50 feet long, its shiny green scales glittering in the sunlight, its two horns protruding out of its head like cat ears. People scattered as the dragon reared its ugly head, opened its mouth, and“Dang!” Charlotte's pencil snapped.

“That wouldn't keep happening if you were typing it out on a computer,” Charlotte's mom said, straightening her glasses on the bridge of her nose as she passed Charlotte's room carrying a basket of clothes. “No one's on there now, you can get on and—do you have any whites that need washing?”

“I don't think so” Charlotte said, grinding her pencil to a point. “And I’m not using the computer. I'll type it eventually, but now I'm using a pencil like real authors do.”

“Real authors use computers, too,” her mother said, “but I don't want to argue, Charlotte.”

“Whatever.” Charlotte knew why her mother didn't want to argue. She was thinking about her brother, John. She sat back down at her desk, wishing she could come up with some words-of-comfort thing, but her mind was blank.

“He's going to be okay, right?” Charlotte hoped she hadn't sounded desperate, but she had been wondering too.

“They don't know. The people at the hospital are doing everything they can.” “When can we go and see him?”

Her mother sighed. “Not for another year, unless...” Charlotte knew her mom wouldn't want to put pressure on her, but winning the contest would mean they could visit John.

let out a burst of fire that engulfed the courtyard.

“Elijah!” he screamed as he charged down the hill. The dragon was in the town square, and Elijah was across from the palace. The guards had set up a phalanx about twenty feet away, locking shields to form a wall that Charlie ran up to.

A guard shoved him back. “Stay away, kid. It's dangerous here!” “But Elijah!” Charlie said, pushing to get in. The dragon suddenly let out a mighty roar, and charged

“Bedtime, you rascal,” her dad said as he knocked on her door. “Lights out.” “Almost done,” said Charlotte, scribbling “the phalanx head on.” as she got up. Time for more tomorrow.

Week 3 ***

promise to tell the

“Leo! Pay attention!” He snapped up, hiding his I-Pod Touch under the desk. He just couldn't stop writing!

truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth,”

“Leo! How many times do I have to tell you?”

“Sorry, just calculating with a calculator.” That sounded extremely stupid, and Leo wished he hadn't said it. He had his reputation as the football captain to uphold. Were football captains supposed to pay attention in math? Was that “cool”?

Mr Spinelli said, hesitating a little before raising his right hand. Zan and the others in the courtroom watched intently as he spoke.

“I was dealing with some matters pertaining to the museum, when I heard a disturbance in the main corridor of the exhibit hallway, close to both my office and the location of the painting in question. I had heard the characteristic squeak of Mr Holliday's shoe for 20 years, and this was not it.”

“Yeah, it was me,” Zan said.

“Please do not interrupt me; I was just getting to that,” Mr Spinelli said, rudely, in Zan's opinion . “I hastened to my door, and caught a glimpse of this boy,” he gestured toward Zan, “walking in the general direction of the painting. I did not know that it was Bill's son, so I assumed it was an intruder, and followed. He passed behind the wall, then moved toward this column,” he pointed at the column in the map of the museum. “I heard footsteps in a place I couldn't see, and the boy ran after them. I also heard footsteps behind me, and decided to hide behind the pillar. I saw Mr Holliday come into view, and then I felt a sharp pain in my head. I fell to my knees, and can't remember anything until about 5:00 in the morning.”

“I see. And when did this take place?” asked Judge Fort. “Must have been between 11:30 and 12, I

“Leo!”

Week 4 ***

Ian had just completed the third level of Alien Warfare 3 when his mom pushed open the door. She gaped at the mess inside: two popcorn bags thrown onto the bed, popcorn falling onto the carpet. A jumble of dirty clothes, discarded books, and video game disks lay in a pile by the TV. Aerosmith blared from the boombox at his feet. A giant mother ship loomed on the television screen, and reclining on beanbag chairs in the center of the room, Ian and Mike, controllers in hand, blasting aliens as though their lives depended on it.

“Ian! I said no video games until you had 600 words! It's due tomorrow!”

“Okay, mom, I’ll just finish this level.”

Mike stared at him. “You entered that dumb contest? What is it, Maple Leaf?”

“No, dude, that's stupid,” Ian said, laughing uneasily. “Did you thing I’d enter that? No, that's for school, you know.”

“Right.” Mike blew up an alien.

Week 5 ***

Charlotte trudged through the downpour to school, her notebook held close so as to keep it dry. Elijah was saved. Everyone thought Elijah had let the dragon out of the forest on purpose. Now Charlie felt horrible because the dragon had caused so much damage( it had carried off two sheep, a cow and a little boy named

Davy before the spears took it down. No one found the boy. ) that no one would speak to Elijah. Charlie had to make it up to Elijah, somehow. Charlotte reached the school and ducked inside, lipping open her notebook to see what she'd written.

Charlie spotted Elijah walking along the edge of the forest. He ran to his side. “How you feeling?” he asked.

“Terrible,” Elijah replied, his head bent low.

“I wish there was something I could do,” Charlie said truthfully. “I feel so––

Elijah cut him off. “There's nothing you can do, but thanks,” he said.

Charlie looked at the forest, black and mysterious. The dragons were by far the worst things in there, but there were said to be all sorts of beasts and monsters. “Did you see anything?” he asked.

“What do you mean?” Elijah asked, looking at Charlie for the first time. “I mean, when I dared you to come here, did you see anything?”

Elijah raised his eyebrows. “No,” he said. “I came down here and got about twenty feet in when I heard this growl, like a dog, but louder. I couldn't see anything. Then there was this massive roar, and the dragon came out of nowhere and zoomed high into the air, and I bolted. When I got out of the woods it was in the middle of the square and I couldn't get around it until it carried off Davy. Do you think he's still alive?”

“Hopefully,” Charlie said. “Hey...” He stopped suddenly. “We could save Davy!” Elijah stared at him. “Hilarious.” Charlie just stared back. “You can't be serious. That dragon's probably

ripping Davy to shreds right now.” Charlie

“Ouch!”

Charlotte dropped her notebook. It hit the floor and lay open as a large, wet, muddy boot stomped on the page.

“Oops, sorry,” said Ian, his face working hard to suppress a smirk.

“You jerk, Ian!” Charlotte shouted. “That will take days to rewrite!”

“Oh, boo hoo,” Ian said in a mock baby voice. “Going to go cry to your mommy?”

“Shut up, Ian,” said Leo, who had just approached them, and was glaring at Ian from underneath a large yellow raincoat.

“Sticking up for your girlfriend, Chandler? I hear you weren’t so brave last night. Sacked four times?” Ian turned around and kicked Charlotte's book. It bounced off the wall and came to rest at Charlotte's feet. She picked it up and dried it off as Ian shoved Leo out of the way and walked down the hallway.

“Don't pay attention to him,” Leo said to Charlotte, who didn't answer. Something had fallen out of her book when Ian had kicked it, and she was looking at it with an odd expression. A second later, Leo realized that she was fighting back tears.

He walked over to her and looked over her shoulder. Partially obscured by mud was a photograph of a boy of around 17. He had dark, curly hair, blue eyes, and was smiling up at the camera.

“Who's that?” Leo asked, which, he realized a second later, was a very personal question.

“Huh?” Charlotte said, realizing that Leo was looking at it. “Oh, my brother, John. He's at Rich Creek Hospital with cancer.”

“Oh,” Leo said. “I'm sorry.”

“It's okay. If I win the writing contest, I'm going to use the money to take our family to see him. We would need a hotel, and everything.”

Wow, Leo thought. That's certainly better than my reason. I hope she doesn't ask what it is. “Why do you want the money?” Charlotte asked.

“Oh. I want to go see my sister in France. She's been there for five years, working for a big magazine company.”

“Oh.” Charlotte looked disappointed, which confused Leo. “Well, see you, then.” “Oh, right.” Leo looked at his watch. He was a minute late for class. “Bye!”

Week 6 ***

“But, had I been walking toward the painting, I would not have passed Mr Spinelli's office. So, logically, either Mr Spinelli was lying, or someone else passed his office door.”

“Are you suggesting that I lied?” Mr Spinelli said lightly, a note of amused skepticism in his tone. “Certainly not. Merely that a detail of possible importance was overlooked.”

A woman in the jury smirked, as though she could not believe that anyone was taking this boy seriously, and indeed, not many people were. Zan stopped pacing, and turned to face the jury. “I next walked around the painting, as Mr Spinelli said, and caught sight of a woman entering through the rear entrance, correct? Mr Spinelli,” he said, turning to him. “What was the temperature in the museum on this night?”

Mr Spinelli seemed taken aback. “According to my thermostat, it was 60 degrees in the museum, while 32 outside.”

“Then,” Zan continued, turning to the jury. “This woman could not have gotten a good look at me.” “And why is that, Alexander?” said Judge Fort, peering over the top of his glasses, a bemused smile

curling across his face.

“Because, had this woman just come into the 60 degree museum from 32 degrees outside, her glasses would have been fogged up. She could not have seen more than my outline.”

“Leo!”

Week 7 ***

Charlie crouched behind the rock, listening. He heard the grunt again, closer. They were near. He peered out from behind the rock, but the forest was so dark, he couldn't see anything. Suddenly, a movement in the bushes startled him, but it was only Elijah.

“See anything?” Elijah whispered. Charlie shook his head. “We're close, though,” he murmured. Elijah crept out from behind the rock, and

approached the source of the noise. Charlie followed him, trying to be silent.

They crept along like this for about twenty yards, then Charlie gasped. Elijah clapped his hand over Charlie's mouth.

They had come to the edge of a gigantic hole, like a massive rabbit's burrow. From it they could hear loud grunts and noises that sounded like snoring, but louder than any human snore. This was the dragon's den.

“Are those–– human?” Elijah asked. Charlie nodded, for strewn along the edges of the tunnel were thousands of skulls, grinning up at them, as though inviting them to join their ranks.

“Don't think about them,” Charlie muttered. “Think about Davy. He's alive, we have to save him.” Elijah nodded, and together they slid into the hole.

The dank and gloomy tunnel's dirt walls were held up by a crude scaffolding of bones. They turned corner after corner, until they came to a large cavern, fifty feet high, and twice as long. They could just see a figure at the other end, fighting to escape from a sticky substance that held it to the wall. But their path to him was blocked by an enormous, green-brown drag

“Dang.” Charlotte got up to sharpen her pencil.

Week 8 ***

“For all we know, Mr Spinelli may not have followed me at all. The only evidence he did is his own word, and the fact that he was lying unconscious at the scene of the crime.”

Everyone stared at him skeptically. “Stop!”

Everyone froze, transfixed, staring at the gun in Mr Spinelli's hand, that was pointing straight at Zan's forehead.

“Now,” he said to the whole courtroom. “I will not deny that I stole the painting. However, the jury will rule me innocent, and clear me of all charges, OR I KILL THIS BOY!”

He bellowed the last five words, simultaneously walking toward Zan. He stopped next to him, and buried the gun into his forehead. Zan winced, but stayed still.

“Those charges include lying to court, and the attempted murder of this boy. I want to be cleared of all criminal record. Might I remind you that if anyone puts up a struggle, there may be more than one– what the?!?”

At that precise moment, two things happened. Mr Holliday did something that was both extremely stupid and probably saved his son's life. He threw a pencil at the back of Mr Spinelli's head.

Meanwhile, Zan did something equally stupid and equally life-saving. He knocked the gun out of Mr Spinelli's hand and dove away from him, straightening up just as the point of the pencil collided with Mr Spinelli's skull.

“Augh!” he said, as Zan tackled him. They fell to the ground, but Mr Spinelli was much bigger. He pinned Zan, and reached for his gun, but Mr Holliday had it.

“Come on,” he said gesturing toward the door, where two policemen were standing. “You are charged with theft, perjury, resisting arrest, contempt of court, and attempted murder. Take him

away,” said Judge Fort. “Well,” said Zan. “Case closed.” Leo was done.

Week 9 ***

“Quick!” said Charlie, and the three of them hurtled down the tunnels. Behind them, they could hear monstrous roars and what sounded like bursts of fire.

“What did you do?” yelled Davy, his eyes wide and frightful. “I don't know,” said Elijah, as they sped through the labyrinth. “Do you remember which way they took

you in?” “Yes. It was this way.”

They turned a corner and froze. Staring them right in the face were two enormous amber eyes, as big as boulders, with black, slit-like pupils.

It took them a few moments to realize that the dragon wasn't ripping them to shreds. It wasn't even raising its head to fry them to a charred mound. It was asleep.

“What do we do now?” asked Davy. “We can't go around it. The other dragons are bound to wake up soon. We need another––

“There!” Charlie was pointing up at a sliver of light coming down from the ceiling. “There's a tunnel up to the surface!”

Charlie dug his fingers into the tunnel wall, and started to climb. The dirt was very well suited to climbing. In no time at all, they were nearing the surface.

Unfortunately, no time at all is plenty of time for a mob of raging dragons to catch up to you. The dragons hurtled up the tunnel, blasting fireballs all the way, and burst out of the tunnel in a shower of fire. Davy, Elijah, and Charlie were out. They had done it.

Charlotte was done.

Ian was not done. His mother had grounded him for a month when she found out he had been planning to copy Homer's Odyssey as his own story.

Week 10 ***

“Thank you, Megan, you have received third place.”

The announcer finished, they had reached the final round. Leo and Charlotte. They had both read their stories aloud, and the voting was underway. As the ballots were being counted, Leo leaned over to Charlotte and whispered, “Good luck.”

“You too,” she said, smiling. “The votes are in!” said the announcer. “And...” Both Leo and Charlotte crossed their fingers. “There is a tie for first place! LEO CHANDLER and CHARLOTTE BROOKS!” The crowd roared, but there was muttering within the applause. “What about the money?” Charlotte asked.

“Each winner will receive $250.” Charlotte paled. $250 meant her family would have to keep saving for 6 months at least.

Leo was thrilled. $250 meant that he could certainly get to Marseille and back. Then he saw Charlotte's face. She was crying. He walked over to her. “What's wrong?” he asked.

“Oh,” she said. “It's just, $250 won't be enough to get to Rich Creek. We'll have to save up some more money, for a couple months at least.”

“Oh. I wish there was something I could do.” And then it hit him. There was.

“Wait. You can have my money.”

“What?” Charlotte said, startled. “No, it's okay.”

“No. Take it. You need it more than me.” He leaned in closer to her and whispered, “Between you and me, I think your story was the best.”

“You really think so?” “Yeah,” he said, grinning. “And I can see my sister some other time. You need to see your brother.”