So! This is the new, improved, first chapter of my story. My lack of updating was caused by lack of inspiration. This, I believe, was due in part to the fact that I was never really that fond of the original first chapter. So, for everyone who has read this story before, this is entirely new stuff! BETTER stuff! I sure you'll like it more than the old one. And if you're new, well, then you never had to see the original so enjoy that bliss and continue on. Inspiration has returned, and this story is ready to re-commence
Thanks for staying with me so long, and review to let me know what you think.
Original Author's Note:
I've been playing with this story idea for quite some time. I read a Clockwork Orange quite a few years back and have been mulling over it ever since. This is the product of that thought...
So, something I should mention- the content of A Clockwork Orange is significantly disturbing. However, it also has essence. I found that (putting aside all the violence and rape) there was a very important message. Personally, I have not seen the movie, therefore I cannot say for sure if this is the case for the movie, but the book is very moving. This story is in honor of the book, and events are based off of the novel instead of the film. I am sure film-goers will still be able to appreciate it though :)
Some events in the book have been modified (the whole Alex-has-a-stepsister thing is my invention) as well as the development of technology (my creation may be more technologically advanced than the book's world). Other than that, I have tried to stay fairly close to the Clockwork Orange universe. I'm keeping my use of Nadsat to a minimum (though it is still present) to enhance understanding for the readers (and let's face it- I'm not Alex. My Natsat wouldn't hold a candle next to his).
Anywho, I hope you enjoy :)
I don't own a Clockwork Orange.
Unwelcome
def: "to be received unwillingly or with disappointment"
Alex was not a boy accustomed to getting everything he wanted. His parents were firm believers in moderation, and his father liked to say that a little wanting developed character. However, this mentality seemed to have little effect. He wanted many things, and never understood why they shouldn't belong to him. After all, hadn't all his school teachers called him special? Always, little Alex was praised. They called him intelligent, called him creative and gifted and wise beyond his years. Surely, such positive feedback should garner some kind of award? His father was firm in thinking otherwise.
"Son. We talked about this before. I'm not going to buy you something every time you bring home a good report." The elder Mr. Delarge sighed, running fingers through thinning black hair.
"Dad." He was exasperated. Why didn't anyone get it. "Did you even read the report? Ms. Xiper made no effort to conceal her pleasure with my recent test scores. And Dim got a new video game and his marks were way lower than mine."
"Between you and me, Alex, I think we both know that you are capable of far more than your friend. In fact, I expect you to perform well. I will not reward you for something that is an expectation." When the boy moved to interrupt, Mr. Delarge held up a silencing finger. "And it's your birthday in a week. You're old enough to start acting responsible."
Alex dropped his spoon into his cereal bowl. In clanged loudly, and his mother shot him a look from across the small kitchen. The boy chose to ignore it, whining. "But dad-"
"No buts." The tone was solid, left room for zero arguments. "I will not waste any more money on your ridiculous music obsession. You want more of that garbage, get a job."
"It's not garbage." Alex hissed under his breath. He felt a slight wave of anger but calmed it by humming softly to himself. A piano concerto, something soft and relaxing. Mozart. He let a lazy smile slip across his face, knowing that it would infuriate his father even more. He couldn't understand how Pee couldn't understand, couldn't feel the gentle tendrils of the great artist tugging at his soul. In his opinion, it was his father that listened to garbage, a bunch of junk with loud scratchy vocals and drums and guitar riffs that made his ears bleed.
"Alex." His father's voice broke into his daydream. The boy was not impressed. "I know you think I'm being harsh, but you're turning into a man. I just want to make sure that you are a strong man and a good citizen. Someone your mother and I can proud of. You understand, right?"
Alex didn't argue, just nodded. He found that the nod response was generally acceptable to his father.
"For your own good. I'm glad you understand. Now, there is something I wanted to tell you." The frown vanished and was left smiling brilliantly. "Your mother and I have picked out something special for your birthday. You'll be turning twelve, and we think you're ready for this."
The boy looked up just in time to see his parents exchanging quick, and in his opinion goofy, looks across the room. His interest was piqued. "Oh? And what might this surprise be?"
"Now Alex." That was his mother, putting down the dish she was currently cleaning to face him. "Telling you that would certainly ruin the surprise. You'll just have to wait."
Rolling his eyes, Alex picked up his breakfast dish and walked it to the sink. He left it there for his mother to clean. She deserved it anyway. Why did adults always have to do that? Dangle something sweet right before you but yank it away before one could take a bite. Typical. He left the room to head back to his, faint whispering following his footsteps.
At school the next day, Alex made the mistake of telling Dim about the conversation from the day before.
"So that means you're not getting the new CD-thing, umm, Bak or whatever his name was?" Dim questioned, mouth full of half chewed hamburger.
Alex placed his fork, speared with his own hamburger, down on the plate. He was definitely not hungry after seeing that. "It's Bach. And you're right. My stupid parents don't share the same appreciation for fine art as I do, it would seem."
"Sucks." Dim shoved a French fry in his mouth, seemed dissatisfied, and picked up the whole container before dumping the entire thing in at once.
"But I have to say the surprise is rather intriguing. I have absolutely no idea as to what it could be. I thought maybe a different CD, but then father hates my music. I don't think he's ever gotten me decent music, it's all mom. And I don't think he's letting her have her way this time. Gotten firm, that Pee of mine has."
Dim didn't say anything, just stared at him, eyes glazed over and slightly unfocussed. Alex ignored the fact; he was talking more for his own benefit anyways. "Dad has it in his head that I should act more like a man now. So I think the present's going to be something grown up, maybe a razor blade. All the men have one. I don't think I'd mind that."
"What do you need a razor for, Al?" Dim seemed to paying attention now, and was spitting bits of mush all over the table.
"You are simply repulsive. Did you know that? And don't call me Al." Alex brushed some spit-soaked residue from his pressed shirt, grimacing. "Besides, all grown men need razors. What if some unsavoury type was to attack me? I'd need to defend myself. Likewise, I might do some attacking myself if I feel like it. Apparently some of our classmates are getting into fights and such, cash prizes and the like. I fancy I could use some extra cash, and a razor would guarantee I'd get it."
Dim's eyes were wide. "Do you 'spose you could actually use it? On a real person? There'd be blood and stuff."
"Blood." Alex shook his head, holding his nose aloft so as to look cool and sophisticated. "What grown man is afraid of blood? And besides, I've had this awful anger in me lately. Strange, it really is. I think it's probably all part of growing up. Sometimes I'll be sitting there, listening to my music and then within an instant I feel like hurting something. It's really quite peculiar this feeling, and only goes away after I've punched my pillow until the stuffing falls out. No, I think it'd be fairly easy to participate in some of these fights."
Dim only nodded, disinterested again, and went back to his food.
That evening, Alex tried confronting his mother about the surprise again.
"Really." She chuckled. "I'm not going to tell you. Your father would be so upset."
"Let him be upset. I want to know." Alex demanded.
The woman only giggled, eyes soft as she whispered playfully. "I'll give you a hint if you do the dishes tonight."
"Alright." He'd agree to clean the entire house if it meant discovering the secret.
"Things are going to get a bit crowded around here." Eyes twinkling, Mrs. Delarge turned back to her book.
Alex turned this information around in his head. House-bigger? Maybe a dog! He would quite like to have a dog, all things considered. Someone to spend time with, to train, who wouldn't complain about anything. Though he wouldn't admit it out loud, dogs were also pretty cute.
"Excellent!" Alex exclaimed, grinning widely. Then he remembered the dishes. Smile vanishing, the boy adopted his trademark scowl as he stalked off towards the kitchen.
Saturday night, the night of Alex's birthday saw the boy pacing himself dizzy. He checked the clock on the wall again, for the umpteenth time questioning where his parents could be. It was nine o'clock, and both of them had promised to leave work early so as not to leave him alone on this special day. They should have been home hours ago.
He had spent the last few days in the library researching different breeds of dogs. After many hours of scrutinizing, Alex had decided the Burmese Mountain Dog was his first choice. Hopefully, his parents knew him well enough and had picked that kind up. He was overly eager to find out, and each waiting minute was long.
Finally, after almost an hour of pacing, scuffling sounds could be heard from the front porch. Instantly alert, Alex had to tell himself to be calm. His father would not appreciate the eagerness. A key clicked in the lock, boots in the front hall and voices, and then his father turned the corner into the meeting room.
"Alex." Mr. Delarge nodded the boy's way.
Alex returned the gesture. His father remained standing, across the room from him. His mother was in the doorway, barely concealing a smile and there was movement behind her. Alex strained to make out some sort of shape but it was dark in the hallway. He raised an eyebrow at the woman, hoping she'd reveal something soon.
"Your father and I have talked about doing this for a very long time. We think you're old enough now, and-"
"You'll have to be her teacher, Alex. She was rescued from horrid conditions and everything is new to her. This is going to be partially your responsibility." Mr. Delarge interrupted. "Do you think you're up to it?"
"Yes," Alex rushed. So it was a dog. The boy could barely contain his excitement, he just wanted to see it so bad. It must has shown, as his dad motioned Em to stand aside.
The shape began to move forward, painstakingly slow. Yet something about the figure seemed to be off, and as it drew closer and closer to the light of the room. Alex could make out something unsettlingly humanoid about the shape before it became fully visible.
The excited voices of his parents were drawn out in the violent roar of his mind. Alex couldn't understand, didn't want to understand. This was...not what he thought it would be. It was not what he wanted. The girl in front of him averted her grey eyes, unable to face the sparking anger in his. She was young, taller than him, maybe a bit older? He couldn't tell, didn't particularly care. Yet his mind disagreed, kept taking in more details. Pale skin, faint evidence of bruising on the exposed elbows. Her hair was mousy, and cut just above the shoulders. Combed recently, as it seemed his parents had attempted to make her look presentable. This was evidenced in the fine blue dress she wore, all crisp lines and collared and looking ridiculous on her skeletal frame. The last thing he saw were here hands. That part, at least, sparked a slight interest. They were long and slim and elegant looking, just right for the piano. Upon a closer look he could see they were criss-crossed in scars.
Looking away from the girl and towards his father, he attempted to take a reasonable tone. "What is this?"
"Why son." Delarge's grin was massive. "This is your new sister!"
Alex felt his stomach drop like a stone.