1 SmallVille – A New Point Of View
Hi people, I am back! I have been very busy, so apologies towards all the people who have been waiting for me to update my stories. I am updating each story at a time, so as to increase the amount of material in each story, and possibly finishing them, before I move onto the next one. My hope is that I will eventually have all my stories at the same amount of chapters. I couldn't think of a better title, so Review! I think I have already given the disclaimer. Finally, just my own personal view on the final episode. It SUCKED! How, exactly, can they continue it?! They've practically tied up all the loose ends. Lionel dies, Clark saves Lana somehow, with her knowing what he is, Chloe is mightily pissed at Clark for leaving her, until Lana tells her about Clark, despite that Clark told her not to, that reporter is killed by the Tornado! I mean, come on, are they going to force-feed us the storyline?! Well, anyways, here it is!
Chapter 1
Clark woke up from his usual slumber, tossing and turning. He had had an unusual dream, but then again, he always had unusual dreams. This one had involved Lana, and Chloe, and a very large pile of whipped cream…
He shook his head as he swung his legs over the side of his bed, shirtless, and reached groggily for his jacket that hung on the side of the cupboard. He scrubbed his face with his hand, as a lock of his dark hair fell over his square face, and felt a light layer of stubble on his chin. He worried about how he was going to shave, if knives couldn't penetrate his skin. He just hoped that the Excalibur shaver would do the trick.
He stood up as his Mum shouted up, "Breakfast is ready! Come and get it, Clark, Jonathon! Clark, your bus will be here in five minutes!" She moved away towards the goodie-packed table, filled with apples, toast, jam, lemon curd, home-made apple pie and sausages, all placed so as to keep Clark and Jonathon away from the goodies if they were eating the sausages, as she heard a soft "whoosh!" come from Clarks room, and then a slight screeching noise behind her as Clark's large hand grabbed a piece of toast, still struggling with a sock in the other hand. Martha just had to grin. To put on a sock was a mothers job, even if her son just happened to have some… special qualities.
"Here, let me do that," She muttered, as she grabbed his sock and got the 'grateful' face. She had catalogued at least 40 different images on Clarks face, and wondered how he actually moved his skin if bullets couldn't penetrate his skin. She grinned again as she finished pulling his sock up, and started on his shoe. She had a lot to do on the farm, but obviously, she didn't have enough, if she wondered about things like that.
"Thanks, Mom," he said through a slight spraying of breadcrumbs. She handed him his back-pack, filled with Jam sandwiches, his favourite, and he disappeared in a ray of light and out the door. She had hoped he would have stayed longer, due to the large breakfast, but in any case…
"Ahem," she grumbled quietly, and Clark zoomed back, gave her a quick peck on the cheek, and zoomed out the door again. She just had to smile as Jonathon came hopping down the stairs, gripping his sock, with a pained expression on his face.
"Oh, give me that!" she laughed.
Clark barely made it to the bus stop in time. He saw the bus moving along the lane, and stopped his super-speed at the last bend in the lane, where the driver saw him and stopped, waiting. Clark smiled at the dark-skinned, bald driver, as he pulled out his bus pass and panted as if he had been running hard. The driver grinned back, his teeth pearly white in the brown of his face, like a pearl in the middle of a chocolate cake. He knew Clark very well by now, and laughed at him as he sheepishly pulled his backpack onto the bus.
"You should be getting up earlier, farm boy, or you might be waiting here a long time for me one morning!" he chuckled.
Clark just grinned. "Well, maybe I'll just run faster, Alf. And ,anyway, isn't it your obligation to wait for me here?"
Alf just laughed and slapped his leg. "You got me there, yes-siree! In any case, you might want to stop leaving your bag on the tractor at night. It looks like its been dragged at quite some speed, yes-sir." He pointed at Clarks bag, which was ripped and blackened in some places. Clark just shrugged, and forced a grin. "Yeah, I should hold onto it tighter." He knew that it wasn't the tractor, it was just he had been so concentrated on catching the bus that he had forgotten to check whether the straps had been on, and had dragged his bag to the bus at slightly faster than the speed of sound!
Alf laughed again, and closed the door, and Clark sat in his seat as the bus started shuddering. He wasn't happy about the backpack. That was the third one in a month that he had ripped, once from speeding down the lane, one from pulling too hard on it on a very work-filled afternoon at school, and one from throwing it in the air and having it land on his forehead, full of books, on the farm. Of course, his head was fine, but the school books inside had been shredded. His Dad had been furious.
"I'm not bothered about the bag, son," he had said in his deadly quiet voice, "but I'm more bothered about what you're going to revise from." Clark was sick of hearing that. "How's you're revision?" "What you going to take exams for?" Well, he was just going to take a combination of Pete's and Chloe's subjects, and at least have a friend in each class. And maybe Lana's books…maybe he could get tuition…he started drooling at the thought of being with LANA LANG alone, without that stupid necklace…
His head hit off the seat in front, denting it, as the driver stopped the bus abruptly.
"Well, lookie, lookie, what have we hear, little Missy? How'd you get here?" Alf shouted out the bus. "You could have got run over!"
The doors opened, and Clark, being sorely interested, bent the metal bar of the seat in front, which he had dented, and looked down the aisle-
-to see Lana Lang.
He was shocked, to say the least. What was she doing all the way out here, in the middle of – he looked around him – fields? Why wasn't she at home?
"I was – uh, I was driven here. By my guardian. She's at home, now, but she drove me here and dropped me off before going back to Metropolis. I've just started today." It sounded rehearsed, to Clarks ears.
"Metropolis, huh? That should explain why you ain't got a bus pass. Well, get on, and don't run in front of a bus like that again!"
"Yes, sir," she said meekly, and sat in front of Clark, her head down.
Clark just stared at her as the bus rattled on.
"Lana? You don't have –" he gasped as she turned at the sound of his voice
She wasn't Lana, but she looked a hell of a lot like her. She had dark hair, and full red lips, but the hairstyle was different, and her eyes were a dark blue, not green. Also, she had a heart-shaped face, and her eyes were set much farther apart. Still, you would need a second glance. She tilted her head as she stared back at him.
"I'm sorry, you appear to have me confused with someone else," she said quietly. "I don't think I've met you before." She extended her hand. "Maria Longsett."
He took it. "Clark Kent." He shook her hand, and then retracted his hand. He grinned at her sheepishly. "Actually, you look a lot like a friend of mine at school. The resemblance is…uncanny."
She grinned back. "Well, I hope you can introduce me to your friend. And maybe, show me around the school? I'm new, like I said. And furthermore –" She looked around the empty bus. " –how come you're the only one here?" she stared at him. He shifted uncomfortably.
"Well, I live on the farm just a few kilometres back. I'm always the first on this bus before it starts going into town. So, what's it like in Metropolis? I've never been there."
She grinned. "It's, well, big…"
Hi people, I am back! I have been very busy, so apologies towards all the people who have been waiting for me to update my stories. I am updating each story at a time, so as to increase the amount of material in each story, and possibly finishing them, before I move onto the next one. My hope is that I will eventually have all my stories at the same amount of chapters. I couldn't think of a better title, so Review! I think I have already given the disclaimer. Finally, just my own personal view on the final episode. It SUCKED! How, exactly, can they continue it?! They've practically tied up all the loose ends. Lionel dies, Clark saves Lana somehow, with her knowing what he is, Chloe is mightily pissed at Clark for leaving her, until Lana tells her about Clark, despite that Clark told her not to, that reporter is killed by the Tornado! I mean, come on, are they going to force-feed us the storyline?! Well, anyways, here it is!
Chapter 1
Clark woke up from his usual slumber, tossing and turning. He had had an unusual dream, but then again, he always had unusual dreams. This one had involved Lana, and Chloe, and a very large pile of whipped cream…
He shook his head as he swung his legs over the side of his bed, shirtless, and reached groggily for his jacket that hung on the side of the cupboard. He scrubbed his face with his hand, as a lock of his dark hair fell over his square face, and felt a light layer of stubble on his chin. He worried about how he was going to shave, if knives couldn't penetrate his skin. He just hoped that the Excalibur shaver would do the trick.
He stood up as his Mum shouted up, "Breakfast is ready! Come and get it, Clark, Jonathon! Clark, your bus will be here in five minutes!" She moved away towards the goodie-packed table, filled with apples, toast, jam, lemon curd, home-made apple pie and sausages, all placed so as to keep Clark and Jonathon away from the goodies if they were eating the sausages, as she heard a soft "whoosh!" come from Clarks room, and then a slight screeching noise behind her as Clark's large hand grabbed a piece of toast, still struggling with a sock in the other hand. Martha just had to grin. To put on a sock was a mothers job, even if her son just happened to have some… special qualities.
"Here, let me do that," She muttered, as she grabbed his sock and got the 'grateful' face. She had catalogued at least 40 different images on Clarks face, and wondered how he actually moved his skin if bullets couldn't penetrate his skin. She grinned again as she finished pulling his sock up, and started on his shoe. She had a lot to do on the farm, but obviously, she didn't have enough, if she wondered about things like that.
"Thanks, Mom," he said through a slight spraying of breadcrumbs. She handed him his back-pack, filled with Jam sandwiches, his favourite, and he disappeared in a ray of light and out the door. She had hoped he would have stayed longer, due to the large breakfast, but in any case…
"Ahem," she grumbled quietly, and Clark zoomed back, gave her a quick peck on the cheek, and zoomed out the door again. She just had to smile as Jonathon came hopping down the stairs, gripping his sock, with a pained expression on his face.
"Oh, give me that!" she laughed.
Clark barely made it to the bus stop in time. He saw the bus moving along the lane, and stopped his super-speed at the last bend in the lane, where the driver saw him and stopped, waiting. Clark smiled at the dark-skinned, bald driver, as he pulled out his bus pass and panted as if he had been running hard. The driver grinned back, his teeth pearly white in the brown of his face, like a pearl in the middle of a chocolate cake. He knew Clark very well by now, and laughed at him as he sheepishly pulled his backpack onto the bus.
"You should be getting up earlier, farm boy, or you might be waiting here a long time for me one morning!" he chuckled.
Clark just grinned. "Well, maybe I'll just run faster, Alf. And ,anyway, isn't it your obligation to wait for me here?"
Alf just laughed and slapped his leg. "You got me there, yes-siree! In any case, you might want to stop leaving your bag on the tractor at night. It looks like its been dragged at quite some speed, yes-sir." He pointed at Clarks bag, which was ripped and blackened in some places. Clark just shrugged, and forced a grin. "Yeah, I should hold onto it tighter." He knew that it wasn't the tractor, it was just he had been so concentrated on catching the bus that he had forgotten to check whether the straps had been on, and had dragged his bag to the bus at slightly faster than the speed of sound!
Alf laughed again, and closed the door, and Clark sat in his seat as the bus started shuddering. He wasn't happy about the backpack. That was the third one in a month that he had ripped, once from speeding down the lane, one from pulling too hard on it on a very work-filled afternoon at school, and one from throwing it in the air and having it land on his forehead, full of books, on the farm. Of course, his head was fine, but the school books inside had been shredded. His Dad had been furious.
"I'm not bothered about the bag, son," he had said in his deadly quiet voice, "but I'm more bothered about what you're going to revise from." Clark was sick of hearing that. "How's you're revision?" "What you going to take exams for?" Well, he was just going to take a combination of Pete's and Chloe's subjects, and at least have a friend in each class. And maybe Lana's books…maybe he could get tuition…he started drooling at the thought of being with LANA LANG alone, without that stupid necklace…
His head hit off the seat in front, denting it, as the driver stopped the bus abruptly.
"Well, lookie, lookie, what have we hear, little Missy? How'd you get here?" Alf shouted out the bus. "You could have got run over!"
The doors opened, and Clark, being sorely interested, bent the metal bar of the seat in front, which he had dented, and looked down the aisle-
-to see Lana Lang.
He was shocked, to say the least. What was she doing all the way out here, in the middle of – he looked around him – fields? Why wasn't she at home?
"I was – uh, I was driven here. By my guardian. She's at home, now, but she drove me here and dropped me off before going back to Metropolis. I've just started today." It sounded rehearsed, to Clarks ears.
"Metropolis, huh? That should explain why you ain't got a bus pass. Well, get on, and don't run in front of a bus like that again!"
"Yes, sir," she said meekly, and sat in front of Clark, her head down.
Clark just stared at her as the bus rattled on.
"Lana? You don't have –" he gasped as she turned at the sound of his voice
She wasn't Lana, but she looked a hell of a lot like her. She had dark hair, and full red lips, but the hairstyle was different, and her eyes were a dark blue, not green. Also, she had a heart-shaped face, and her eyes were set much farther apart. Still, you would need a second glance. She tilted her head as she stared back at him.
"I'm sorry, you appear to have me confused with someone else," she said quietly. "I don't think I've met you before." She extended her hand. "Maria Longsett."
He took it. "Clark Kent." He shook her hand, and then retracted his hand. He grinned at her sheepishly. "Actually, you look a lot like a friend of mine at school. The resemblance is…uncanny."
She grinned back. "Well, I hope you can introduce me to your friend. And maybe, show me around the school? I'm new, like I said. And furthermore –" She looked around the empty bus. " –how come you're the only one here?" she stared at him. He shifted uncomfortably.
"Well, I live on the farm just a few kilometres back. I'm always the first on this bus before it starts going into town. So, what's it like in Metropolis? I've never been there."
She grinned. "It's, well, big…"