Iridescent
A Chris Lang Story
Prologue
Ninety percent of the school thought he was weird, ten percent thought he was a legend, everybody thought he was a genius.
- Ellie Linton, Tomorrow When the War Began
He wrote poetry.
It wasn't something that he advertised much because really, a seventeen year old boy with a passion for words wasn't all that cool. Instead, he hid behind this label that he'd become accustomed too; the one where all he did was light up joints and smoke his way into oblivion. But he liked words. People didn't understand them much, not even Ellie Linton who he was sure only commented on them to be nice. He liked the way he could express himself with them, how he could use a sentence to bring something to life.
Plus, it was something his father wasn't able to do.
Chris Lang didn't hate his father, he would never hate his father, but there was something about the man that always wore the collars and the ties that just annoyed him. His father was just so…his father. There was possibly no other way to describe it. Chris didn't know if he'd ever had fun in his life, which led him to the dream of one day getting his father completely and utterly baked just to see what happened. His mother on the other hand, he was sure his mother had been like him in her youth. She was just so…not innocent compared to his father. Chris could see that she'd changed herself, put away the smokes and only limited herself to the wine, after she'd started going out with his father. But Chris had seen the way that she looked at his cigarettes sometimes, the longing in her eyes.
But he hadn't offered her one yet and now, he thought, he may never get the chance too.
It wasn't because there was this war going and all these people were dying, and maybe, just maybe, in the back of his mind he knew he could be next. No, it was because, as much as he hated to admit it, he wasn't a bloody genius. He was just a teenager crying out for some attention, hitting the booze and just being. Chris wasn't like the others, he didn't have family in the country – his were safe and sound overseas, probably sipping their drinks and maybe caring a little that he was stuck in Australia still. And because of this he didn't care about fighting back, he didn't care for anything in the war, really.
He got bored and he got stupid and now he's nothing.
Nothing.
He's not a genius, he's not a legend and he's not a teenager crying out for help.
He's just Chris Lang.
And he's just nothing now.
This is going to be my Chris Lang Story. I don't know how it's going to pan out, but I like his character and I think that he changes from when Ellie and the others first run into him until when he dies. Not by much, but still. I believe he hides behind the alcohol and the weed and I wanted to explore that, get deeper into Chris' mind.
The next chapter will start from the beginning, from when Ellie asks if he can come on their trip and his father says no. The story will go from there, including his time in Hell while the others are gone and his death.
R&R?