Well, hi! This is my new fic, 21 Voices. I haven't written anything in a long. I mean, a long time. So, I'm pretty rusty.
Summary: This is the story of Kyle's wild time trying to help his best friend. Stan was somehow in a freak accident and now he has no memory of his three closest friends, believes he is British, and has taken up the art of making sculptures out of pipe cleaners. What's a Jewish boy to do with that?
Read and enjoy. Then, if you feel the extreme need, review!
----
21 Voices
-
Prologue
----
What was he going to do? The rain wasn't stopping. He didn't have an umbrella. It was cold out. The person he was supposed to meet had yet to show up. His life sucked right now. It sucked big time.
The dark clouds cut off all the sunlight and the dull dripping of water over the leaves above were starting to make him nervous. How could he have been so stupid? Why would anyone ever come to meet him? Average, skinny, and now soggy was what his looks now added up to. A soft sigh escaped Kyle's lips as he sat down on a huge up raised root and shook out his squelching Chucks.
A low rumble in the distance had him looking behind and frowning. "This is so gay! Ah, what the hell am I still doing out here?" He pulled his cell phone and reading glasses, flipped one open and put the other on, and sent a text to Stan. He needed a ride home. There was no way he was walking in this shitty weather.
A big, fat drop of water fell and hit his nose, splattering on his glasses. He grunted and took them off, stowing them in his pocket again. "I really hate rain."
Today was the day the note had said. He was to wait under the big oak near the old warehouse. Someone had been slipping heartfelt messages into his locker. Each one made him more and more curious as to who was sending them. At last, the person had asked to meet him. Letting his knack for the mysterious get him, he had tracked up here from school. It was a good two miles from school and another five from his house. Just as he'd leaned against the rough bark of the oak, the sky let out a mumble and opened up it's emotional drench on the world.
Now that his hair was wet and frizzed, his favorite coat soaked through, and his nice Converse washed over with mud, his temper was high and he really wanted to give this person a look and then a piece of his mind! Kyle continued to mutter to himself, missing the plop of mud next to his hand. The next glob landed on his hand, making him yelp and look up. "Stan!"
There stood his friend, completely dripping, slightly burnt looking, and grinning like a mad man with a glazed look in his eyes. Mud dripped off his jacket shoulders onto the ground as he twitched suddenly, eyes looking everywhere. "I-I told you I'd be here!" he yipped to Kyle. Suddenly his eyes rolled into his head and he fell back wards into the mud.
"Holy shit, Stan!" Kyle fell onto his knees, grabbing his friend's arm. "Stan, Stan! Dude, oh my god!" He fumbled his phone out and dialed 911. As the operator calmly asked all the questions, he held him breath and clung to Stan's hand. What in the hell just happened...?
----
Tell me what you think! Give me a review.