Rivelazione
People, I can't believe it. I really do apologise. My other account kind of went a bit crazy so I deleted all of my stories. Anyhow I've got a new one, I've updated it all. My old username was 'Vripter'. On my other chapters, I've still included my responses to reviews because you guys did review it even if it doesn't show. I'm sooo sorry that I deleted it.
Hey everyone. This story is all about, who the real outsiders are! Is it The Soc's? The Greasers? Ponyboy? Johnny? Dallas? Who are the real Outsiders? Each chapter will be devoted to one character and in each chapter we will find out the answer to the question. Please read and review. (Title means revelation in Italian)
Title: Rivelazione (Italian for Revelation)
Author: Vripter- now my new username
Rating: Pg-13, just to be safe.
Warnings: Maybe some cussing, nothing else really. Ah, I've got a warning. The characters descriptions are from the film --- not the book. They look better in the film, I mean Tom Cruise --- is there any better!
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or places in The Outsiders unless you have never heard of them before. S.E. Hinton owns all but my imagination.
Chapter one: The life of Steve RandleA teenage boy who looked about the age of seventeen lay on the murky streets of Tulsa. In actual fact, he lay in a place known to the people as 'the lot'. The lot was simply a piece of wasteland, trash, a piece of land no one liked, the land devoted to the gangs.
The little amount of grass that lay there swayed with the wind. The lot wasn't homed to much grass --- well, much fresh grass. All the greenness of the grass had worn when the grass died. Instead of grass, pieces of broken bottles lay scattered and you could glance the occasional cigarette end on the ground buried by the crisp leaves.
Steve lay face down on the damp, cold floor, not bothering to warm himself up or make any attempt to get up. His jet-black hair had become a mess after his relaxing time on the floor and his slightly tanned skin had several scratches carved into it.
His blue DX shirt was open and if he turned around, you would be able to see a slim, partly toned stomach. Steve was lean but not too lean, as in too lean I mean horribly lean --- he was nice lean. He blinked his mystical green eyes and had a long sigh. His attractive features held a frown that wasn't often seen on his young face.
The juvenile stood up and stretched; his arms lengthened out and his hands went into fists.
As he stood up his full appearance could be seen. His left eyebrow had a long bloody cut slashing through it and he looked slightly wasted. His blue jeans had rips in them and his shoes were scruffed up. He had the appearance of some one who had just been in a rumble --- well he may as well have. Fore, Steve had been jumped. Jumped by 3 Soc's. He did fight them off or at least tried to but he was outnumbered.
He rubbed his sore eye and began to walk the streets of the East side. He felt dizzy, messed up. His sight was blurred. He felt uncomfortable and alert, his muscles were tensed and his body shivered because of the cold. He opened his mouth slightly and felt the smooth, warm taste of blood. His breathing was deep and uneven. His heart raged against his chest like a monster in a cage.
He had reached a building, a small building that he knew as home. It was just like the average house in his neighbourhood – small but nice - home.
He walked towards the mattered wooden door. The window was open and he could see his dad drinking some form of alcohol.
His dad looked nothing like Steve, he had dark hair and was lean like Steve but his eyes weren't mystical green, they were dark, black almost, scary. His father wasn't a bad man but he wasn't exactly a good man either. He didn't look after Steve too great. They didn't have a father/son relationship; they had a lame-father/ juvenile delinquent son relationship. His dad wasn't exactly too bothered if he got into fights, skived school or caused trouble however he wouldn't be too pleased if Steve got in trouble with the police.
But it wasn't just their appearance that differed; it was their state of mind. Steve was his own person, hyper and energetic. He, like most teenagers, liked spending time with his friends, going to the occasional movie to hunt for girls or just chilling.
His father on the other hand was narrow-minded, he was a mess, he often kicked Steve out and then paid him the next day as if to say sorry. But money didn't mean anything, what did Steve want! Love? A father? He didn't know what he wanted, maybe acceptance. But that didn't matter, he'd learned to live with it, he was a greaser, a stupid greaser, he always had been and always would be.
A greaser, not worth any attention.
A greaser, who cares!
A greaser, a juvenile delinquent.
A greaser, a stupid layabout.
A greaser, a waste of space.
That was what they all thought but Steve had learned to live with it, blank it out, enjoy it. He was a teenager; a destructive teenager ready to do anything for fun; a teenager, ready to fight to the death to defend his beliefs; a teenager, living with all the teenage troubles that flooded his life, flooded his mind.
Steve opened the light door that seemed an automatic reaction and took a few steps in. His father lay stretched out on the sofa but as he heard the door slam, he stood up as if by instinct, as if he sensed an intruder…
"Dad, you alright?" Steve asked his drunken father. He was still standing with a bottle of lacquer in his right hand that seemed to be shaking ever so slightly.
"Get out!" He yelled at his son with such power that the words alone could have flattened any unsuspecting spectators. Steve looked at his father, a disappointed frown on his face. "I said get out!" He shouted again.
"Why? Why are you doing this to me? What have I done?" The teenager questioned in such a rage that he felt like curling up in the corner of a dark room to cry – but he never cried. He was sick of the abandonment, sick of the orders.
"ARE YOU QUESTIONING ME, BOY?" The father screamed, his whole body shaking with anger.
Steve, full of fury, ran out of the door as fast as he could even though it pained him to do so.
'What a perfect ending to a perfect day!' He thought to himself as he moved his hands through his hair. He sat on a swing in an abandoned park that no one ever visited except kids but since it was extremely late at night, he doubted they would be there.
The nightly sky sparkled against the fountain and the empty swing next to him rocked forwards and backwards with the strong force of the wind.
Steve sighed to himself as he recapped on the day in his mind. Not only had he been kicked out, he had been jumped, jumped by three daft Soc's. He couldn't help but think how much of a mess his life was, how much of an outsider he really was, even on his own turf…
Okay, so chapter one is finished. Next chapter shall be - you guys tell me who and I shall do it; I have a plan for everyone. Tell me who you want to see next, if not, I'll decide myself!
Please read and review, I'll update once a week.