I am big into music, and I recommend listening to, Teardrop by Portisnumb featuring Massive Attack, It will set your mood while reading this.
He rested his body back against the sand. Everything was a blur, a complete blur. His mouth began to quiver and chills appeared all down his arms. It was cold, freezing. He couldn't seem to remember what he had done an hour before, maybe taking a couple pills and packing a bowl. Marijuana was Seth's escape. An amazing escape for that matter. It's the greatest relief he feels every time he takes a hit. Feeling his body let go of everything, it was a time to relax his tension. As he lay there, his arms and legs lying back on the sand, spread so far out. He closed his eyes, letting the moon's light reflect upon his eye lids. The t-shirt and white shorts he had been wearing probably reeked of marijuana. His hair was messy, and grains of sand were scattered all over him. He was ripped. Seth hadn't been this high in awhile. He felt nothing, and it felt so good. Everything was gone; it was just him, the sound of the ocean, the softness of the sand, and the light of the moon. His necklace, that he had made about a month ago, was beginning to hurt around his neck. He tried to shift his head, but he couldn't, he felt way too good to move. Vibrating in his pocket was a black razor phone that had a cracked screen and looked as if it was going to fall apart. He slid his hand down into his pocket and searched for his cell phone. Finally, he answered with slow but quiet voice.
"Hey there pops."
"Where are you Seth?" A lower voice replied, but he was worried. You could tell, Sandy, was worried.
"Chill dad I'm about to be, I'm about to be, be on my way back to the house pops . . . you just give me some seconds."
"I'm not 'chilling' Seth, your mother and I are worried sick . . . it's four a.m . . . What could you be doing at four a.m. . . You have fifteen minutes to have your ass in your bed, or I'll call every cop in Newport to tuck you in."
Sandy slammed his phone shut and looked over at his wife who had just walked into the room. He was sitting on the edge of the bed.
"Where is he?" She had dark circles under her eyes and her cheeks were flushed, she walked over to him. "Sandy, Sandy we are calling the pol- - -"
"He's on his way, he will be here . . . I know our son." Sandy stood up and looked at the confused face his wife had.
"How Sandy . . . We obviously don't . . . Our sixteen year old son is out until four a.m. and we have no idea where he is . . . Or where he was . . . He's going to be grounded until the summer . . . I hate doing it and I know he hates it, but something has to be done Sandy."
"Now c'mon, honey you know we were kids once . . . Don't be too hard on him."
Kirsten looked at her husband and rolled her eyes. She walked out of the room and slammed the door.
By then Seth had managed to lift his weak body. He felt amazing, as if he were floating. He walked the wooden stairs back up to the parking lot. Grabbing his board, he rolled down the street and felt the cool breeze hit his skin. He kicked his foot against the pavement, turning a corner and riding all the way back to his house. As he almost reached his house, he heard a truck pulling up behind him. It was blue and big. He recognized this one, for whenever he was at school. The music was loud, and the bass probably woke up everyone who was trying to sleep. He was now walking up his driveway, but still halfway paying attention to the truck and who was all inside. It was mesmerizing, the blue color, caught his eye, and so did the girl that stepped down from it, adjusting her shirt.
i am new so dont be too harsh...i was bored and i felt this coming on, ill post very soon if people like this.