So, my library is having a 'Write Stuff' contest, (Enter here) -It has to contain the phrase "Well, that was unexpected"- and I wrote an entry. This is really just a rough draft, but I wanted you guys to read it and send me feedback. Please, not just "I loved it!" or "It was boring" feedback- I want "I liked it, but maybe change the part where. . ." feedback.
Also, I need a name. Preferably something short, but I want to here all ideas!
Thanks for your help!
Alex hated being lost. Honestly, he should know his way
around, after living here for three years. But nooo. He squeezed through the crowd.
“Excuse me,” an elderly woman called. “Have you seen my grandson?
He ran ahead. . .”
“No, sorry.” He moved on. A few streets later, a little boy
ran up to him.
“Hey! Hey, have you seen my friend? Toby has brown hair, like
me. . .”
“No,” said Alex. Eight more people asked about a Toby on his
way home.
“Sir, have you-”
“I’m going to be late. . . let me through, please.” Then,
when he made it past a particularly thick group, he saw the street sign. Good-
it was only a block from here. Alex quickened his pace.
“Could you keep an eye out. . .”
“Please, he has brown hair and eyes. . .”
“It would just take a moment. . .” They grew more desperate
the closer he got. Finally, he made it to the house. Alex sighed in relief, shaking
his head, glad to be inside.
“How did it go?”
“Not so well,” Alex admitted to his friend, as he dropped, exhausted,
on the couch. “They know you’re staying here. . .but they can’t get a search
permit. They’ve resorted to disguises, again.” The boy next to him sighed.
“At least they’re getting desperate. Maybe they’ll give up
soon...?”
“Toby,” he said seriously, “they will stop when you’re dead.”
Toby moaned.
“I won’t have to move again, will I? I was hoping for a few
more weeks, at the least.” Instead of answering, Alex walked to the kitchen.
“Did you eat yet?”
“Don’t change the subject.” Toby grumpily caught the orange
Alex tossed. “I liked it here. . . The last place was an apartment, no room at
all. The one before that. . . Well, sometimes I wonder if it’s worth it.” Alex
froze, mid-slice, the knife hovering over a loaf of bread. “I mean,” he
continued, “there’s only so much a guy can take. Hiding, going from place to
place. . . When will it stop? Should I just pack my bags?”
“Well, that was unexpected, Toby-”
“I can’t handle much more of this.”
“Toby, if-”
“Should I just turn myself in? Get it over with?”
“Tobias,” Alex
snapped, “you stop there. ‘Is it worth it’? ‘Turn yourself in’? What happened to you? You know what’ll happen,”
he said, softly, “If they get the one person who. . . who. . . you can’t give
up. All those people. . . you give them hope.” Toby sighed.
“Just one more week?”
“Yeah,” Alex smiled. “Just one more week.”
(The End.)
