1Prolouge
I run, given the sound of my feet sliding in the muddy sand on which I live. I hear the ocean waves tumbling up to greet me, licking my feet. I hear the ocean cry my name, I hear my little sister whispering to me, for me to join her, but I can't. I can't do it. I can't let it go. I can't let her go. But I did. I did let go. I let go of everything. You. Her. Him. Everything; including me.
Ch. I
I awoke to the sound of rushing waves echoing through my head. Lifting my head off of the cold, hard stone, I felt around for my hollow shell, the one that held water. It was gone. Cursing I got up to look around. It was nowhere to be seen. They were nowhere to be seen. I hit myself on the head, Of course they're nowhere to be seen, you moron, they're dead! I screamed in my head, convicting myself for about the fiftieth time that week.
Hearing a Plunk! of a rock hitting the water I looked around for someone, maybe my sister, Wait! I shrieked to myself silently, She's dead, too! Slowly, I instructed myself to stop doing this to myself, because I was just hurting myself even more. Once again I heard the sound of a rock making contact with a glassy spread of water. I looked around, only to see the rest of my undisturbed make-shift home, or so I thought.
The next moment I was being dragged ashore by a diver. But I didn't remember any of that, and if I did, it wasn't that important, because I remember something else about that diver, something was funnily familiar about that diver, but I just can't put my finger on it. Or on that day, but from that point on in my life, I knew things were going to change.
Ch. II
They, the state of Hawaii, put me in an orphanage in Idaho. A nine hour flight was pretty much my life story, the turning point, the point where the butter in the churn starts to look like butter, the point where boy turns to man, the only thing good.
In the little town of Melba is where I lived for two and a half years. They kicked me out when I was fourteen, or so they said I was fourteen. I lived in the streets. On Main Street to be exact. The locals knew me and gave me food, they also called me Torque. (Pronounced TOUR"REEK)
So there I was, Torque the homeless boy who lived on Main Street in the little town of Melba, Idaho. They had good potatoes. They were actually quite excellent. You are probably wondering about how this is written so well, so let's get on with my story.
The next day there was a car swerving here, then there, everywhere on the road, a siren was blaring, people were screaming, and running. A tornado warning. But you don't get tornados here! I thought. Diving to take cover in a garbage can, something caught my leg. It was old man
Whats-his-name. "Not there, son." he told me, while dragging me to the church's basement. "WHY HERE?" I cried out to him, but he was already gone, leaving me in the pitch black basement of the blessed church. Looking up I watched as the top of the church went flying up in the tornado, and so did I.
Ch. III
I was holding onto the chair, or what was now air, but everything was calm. I thought back to the lessons in the orphanage, Tornados. Tornados. Tornados. Yes!! I got it. I must be in the eye of the tornado. Waiting for it to throw me out, I settled into the safety position, holding my legs to my chest with my arms.
WHOOSH!! And there I went flying to the ground in Oregon. I landed in a Sofa Mart Warehouse on a stack of ten mattresses. Thanking god, I bowed my head in prayer.
