Hyrule's New Chosen One
Chapter 1: Greetings
I still feel the pain and suffering throughout these times. I never have gotten over those days, those long nights and days. They live inside me, eating me like a mouse on cheese. The scars still remain on my body, those war scars. Some people are proud of them. I'm not one of them. I will explain all this in my story, my documentary. It shall all make sense soon enough if you pay attention.
The year 2000 was great, at that point. It was November, but it was good. Living life in the fast lane was the best way, or so it seemed.
Now, if your wondering, I was 13 years old, and my birthday is in January, so I would have been 14 in a couple months. It seemed so exciting to grow up, but yet I was so reluctant to change my life and take on new responsibilities. I'll stop the blabber and cut to my story.
* * * * * * *
I took a step outside my house, and felt the breeze run through my inch and a half hair. I looked at the autumn sky. It had a pinkish tint, then some purple, then lastly a dark blue on the outside. My mom and sister always loved that, but I never really saw the joy in it. I might be cold hearted, but I'm just not a naturist.
"Hey, Craig!" one of my best friends, Frank, called from his car. I turned to see his head sticking out the passenger side window. His mom drove him there to pick me up.
"It's 7:15 A.M. School starts in 20 minutes," I murmured to myself. I jumped in the blue car and Frank's mom, Donna, started back down my driveway. It was Donna's week to drive us to school today, the last day of her drive week and last day of school for the week. I was overflowing with joy just a minute ago, knowing the day was important, just because I didn't have school the next morning. I didn't do anything else overflowing with joy this morning. I never was a morning person, never took in the beauty of anything (like I said before, I just lived life as it came).
"So Craig, what's new?" Frank asked.
"Nothing much," I said, not knowing this would be the Friday to remember of both my life, and the lives of my other best friends. When we got to school, I causally went to my locker, jammed my stuff in, then walked down to the cafeteria, the school hangout for my friends. I took a chair from a little 6th grader and ignored the helpless pleas from his little mouth. I dropped in the chair and tried to listen in on the latest happenings, but distracted by a distant something. I tried to shake it off, but it stay, implanted in my brain. Like a virus upon something. I turned to see Frank coming my way.
He looked at me from his 5'2" figure. His blue eyes stared into mine, and his blonde hair stood on end. He always liked his hair straight up. I looked down at him, from my 5'8" body. My brown hair waved around like I just got out of a windstorm. He plopped down beside me and listened in, more concentrated on the social group than I was. I was almost to the point were I was ignoring them all. I sat through their endless jabber and then realized we needed to be in class. I got up, not giving any signal why I was going. I walked alone towards class. It seemed to clear my head a little, but not much. It managed to clear it just enough to get though the day. I walked into my first period and sat in my assigned desk. I'm simply not into school today, I thought. I folded a paper football and flicked it across the room towards one of my friends. It nailed him in the head. I did a little motion with my hands to celebrate the direct hit. He flicked it back, but only to go passed me and hit an empty desk. The teacher, Mr. Meatier, walked into the room. Everyone in school was terrified of him. He had jet-black hair. He looked around 50's or 60's. He made a lot of comments on how he'd do something bad if we didn't obey, so I was quite frankly terrified myself. I knew he was only joking when he said some of the stuff he does, but I never take him lightly.
"Alright, finish you journal write, then one of the males in each row get a textbook for each person in the row, and I want it done now! I'm not a happy camper," Mr. Meatier yelled, but that was his normal tone of voice. Maybe his softest, I was never sure.
I got up and hurried for my black journal. I had forgotten to get it out, and obviously some other students did. I brought it back to my desk and opened it to the next spot. I quickly copied what was on the bored, and jotted down a response. I took it back, and grabbed six green English textbooks. I dropped the books down on each desk. Luckily, Frank was the last in my row.
"What are you doing after school today?" Frank whispered, keeping his eye on Mr. Meatier, making sure that he didn't look.
"Nothing, but do you think some people would want to hang at the movies and catch a show," I responded and dropped my pencil purposely, bending over to get it to take up time.
"Sounds good to me, as long as permission is granted by the almighty king and queen." I started laughing, but covered it up by a cough, and it was a little too noticeable. No one was looking, I was OK.
By the time 4th our came around, I was very hungry. I was in Mr. Umplara class with Frank and Matt, sitting in the back "working" on a worksheet.
"So, Matt, what do you think about the movies tonight? You think you'll be able to go. We could easily swing by if your parents don't want to take you," I quietly said, making sure to not get any direct attention from Mr. Umplara.
"I'm sure I can get a ride, IF I can go that is," he rasped back, trying to keep it low.
Mr. Umplara turned his head towards us and I looked at my book.
"No Matt, it's the Native Americans fault! They were to harsh on the English, I think," I blurted loudly, mainly repeating random words I saw from our blue 550-page History book. Mr. Umplara turned away, and I continued.
"What movie sounds good to you guys," Frank blurted in, eyebrows raised.
"'Exit Light' looks good! The previews were so funny!" Matt said out loud. It got the attention of the shrimp of a teacher, but one of the meanest ones.
"Alright, m-kay. You need to all split up, m-kay. I heard extra talking not about subject were doing in this lesson, m-kay. I've had enough of that, m-kay," Mr. Umplara yelled out in his deep old voice that he had. He was another oldie, but maybe around 40-50.
"But-," I started
"No, split, m-kay, NOW, m-kay!" I looked at Matt and Frank and almost busted open with laughter. We always had this thing about making fun of him. We liked to call him Mr. Mackey on South Park because of his "m-kay" habit. I'm not sure if it was purely how he learned or if it was picked up when he had an obsession for South Park. We don't really know if he did have an obsession, but everyone says a good imagination is good for the mind.
"What number are you guys on, m-kay?" Mr. Umplara questions.
"Uh," I looked at my paper and stammer the first number I saw. "Number two, number two...m-kay."
Chapter 1: Greetings
I still feel the pain and suffering throughout these times. I never have gotten over those days, those long nights and days. They live inside me, eating me like a mouse on cheese. The scars still remain on my body, those war scars. Some people are proud of them. I'm not one of them. I will explain all this in my story, my documentary. It shall all make sense soon enough if you pay attention.
The year 2000 was great, at that point. It was November, but it was good. Living life in the fast lane was the best way, or so it seemed.
Now, if your wondering, I was 13 years old, and my birthday is in January, so I would have been 14 in a couple months. It seemed so exciting to grow up, but yet I was so reluctant to change my life and take on new responsibilities. I'll stop the blabber and cut to my story.
* * * * * * *
I took a step outside my house, and felt the breeze run through my inch and a half hair. I looked at the autumn sky. It had a pinkish tint, then some purple, then lastly a dark blue on the outside. My mom and sister always loved that, but I never really saw the joy in it. I might be cold hearted, but I'm just not a naturist.
"Hey, Craig!" one of my best friends, Frank, called from his car. I turned to see his head sticking out the passenger side window. His mom drove him there to pick me up.
"It's 7:15 A.M. School starts in 20 minutes," I murmured to myself. I jumped in the blue car and Frank's mom, Donna, started back down my driveway. It was Donna's week to drive us to school today, the last day of her drive week and last day of school for the week. I was overflowing with joy just a minute ago, knowing the day was important, just because I didn't have school the next morning. I didn't do anything else overflowing with joy this morning. I never was a morning person, never took in the beauty of anything (like I said before, I just lived life as it came).
"So Craig, what's new?" Frank asked.
"Nothing much," I said, not knowing this would be the Friday to remember of both my life, and the lives of my other best friends. When we got to school, I causally went to my locker, jammed my stuff in, then walked down to the cafeteria, the school hangout for my friends. I took a chair from a little 6th grader and ignored the helpless pleas from his little mouth. I dropped in the chair and tried to listen in on the latest happenings, but distracted by a distant something. I tried to shake it off, but it stay, implanted in my brain. Like a virus upon something. I turned to see Frank coming my way.
He looked at me from his 5'2" figure. His blue eyes stared into mine, and his blonde hair stood on end. He always liked his hair straight up. I looked down at him, from my 5'8" body. My brown hair waved around like I just got out of a windstorm. He plopped down beside me and listened in, more concentrated on the social group than I was. I was almost to the point were I was ignoring them all. I sat through their endless jabber and then realized we needed to be in class. I got up, not giving any signal why I was going. I walked alone towards class. It seemed to clear my head a little, but not much. It managed to clear it just enough to get though the day. I walked into my first period and sat in my assigned desk. I'm simply not into school today, I thought. I folded a paper football and flicked it across the room towards one of my friends. It nailed him in the head. I did a little motion with my hands to celebrate the direct hit. He flicked it back, but only to go passed me and hit an empty desk. The teacher, Mr. Meatier, walked into the room. Everyone in school was terrified of him. He had jet-black hair. He looked around 50's or 60's. He made a lot of comments on how he'd do something bad if we didn't obey, so I was quite frankly terrified myself. I knew he was only joking when he said some of the stuff he does, but I never take him lightly.
"Alright, finish you journal write, then one of the males in each row get a textbook for each person in the row, and I want it done now! I'm not a happy camper," Mr. Meatier yelled, but that was his normal tone of voice. Maybe his softest, I was never sure.
I got up and hurried for my black journal. I had forgotten to get it out, and obviously some other students did. I brought it back to my desk and opened it to the next spot. I quickly copied what was on the bored, and jotted down a response. I took it back, and grabbed six green English textbooks. I dropped the books down on each desk. Luckily, Frank was the last in my row.
"What are you doing after school today?" Frank whispered, keeping his eye on Mr. Meatier, making sure that he didn't look.
"Nothing, but do you think some people would want to hang at the movies and catch a show," I responded and dropped my pencil purposely, bending over to get it to take up time.
"Sounds good to me, as long as permission is granted by the almighty king and queen." I started laughing, but covered it up by a cough, and it was a little too noticeable. No one was looking, I was OK.
By the time 4th our came around, I was very hungry. I was in Mr. Umplara class with Frank and Matt, sitting in the back "working" on a worksheet.
"So, Matt, what do you think about the movies tonight? You think you'll be able to go. We could easily swing by if your parents don't want to take you," I quietly said, making sure to not get any direct attention from Mr. Umplara.
"I'm sure I can get a ride, IF I can go that is," he rasped back, trying to keep it low.
Mr. Umplara turned his head towards us and I looked at my book.
"No Matt, it's the Native Americans fault! They were to harsh on the English, I think," I blurted loudly, mainly repeating random words I saw from our blue 550-page History book. Mr. Umplara turned away, and I continued.
"What movie sounds good to you guys," Frank blurted in, eyebrows raised.
"'Exit Light' looks good! The previews were so funny!" Matt said out loud. It got the attention of the shrimp of a teacher, but one of the meanest ones.
"Alright, m-kay. You need to all split up, m-kay. I heard extra talking not about subject were doing in this lesson, m-kay. I've had enough of that, m-kay," Mr. Umplara yelled out in his deep old voice that he had. He was another oldie, but maybe around 40-50.
"But-," I started
"No, split, m-kay, NOW, m-kay!" I looked at Matt and Frank and almost busted open with laughter. We always had this thing about making fun of him. We liked to call him Mr. Mackey on South Park because of his "m-kay" habit. I'm not sure if it was purely how he learned or if it was picked up when he had an obsession for South Park. We don't really know if he did have an obsession, but everyone says a good imagination is good for the mind.
"What number are you guys on, m-kay?" Mr. Umplara questions.
"Uh," I looked at my paper and stammer the first number I saw. "Number two, number two...m-kay."