Well I scrounged through some of my very old stuff…and I mean old stuff looking for something I could revive and breathe life back into again. One thing you should know about me is that I keep almost everything I have ever written…..poems, journals, writing assignments, grocery lists, etcs…..
In my pot of gold of stuff I found theeeeeee very first story I ever wrote for an writing assignment in my 10th grade English class. Its one of those assignments where the teacher gives you a list of ten vocabulary words your learning for the week and you have to use them in a story. You are only given the class time to complete the story so you have to be quick.
The title of the story scribbled in blue ink on the top of my paper was “The Place Down Under” . On the top of the paper in red ink above the title was my letter grade of an “A”. Don’t let that fool you. I believe we were just getting graded on us knowing the vocabulary and not really for story content or grammar.
I will let you be the judge whether it was a good story for a sixteen old to write or not. After that I will reveal what the teacher wrote and said to me later regarding this very story which affected me greatly…so here goes…enjoy this little story. MY FIRST EVER! (also I will italicize the vocab words for you I had to know just for fun)
“The Place Down Under”
There once was a man named Henry Pym, who believed that he was the perfect human. He had a good job and a nice family; he was healthy and expected to live a long happy life, but suddenly his life was snuffed out by a man, who was more or less a little crazy that stabbed him in the bathroom of an exquisite restaurant in the heart of New York City.
Well we find Henry Pym dead, walking down a never-ending hallway. The decorum was little less than conventional; blood-red portraits hung on the walls of the hallway, dead bodies littered the floor causing Henry to trip over them occasionally.
Henry Pym must have guessed that this was hell because he called for Satan himself.
“Oh Satan! O Satan!” Henry called.
Suddenly his surroundings changed and he found himself in a darkly lit cavernous room in which sat a man on a throne of bloody bones. Henry was very optimistic that he had found Satan or perhaps Satan had found him. Just to make sure he asked the man on the throne if he was indeed truly Satan.
“Would you be perhaps be the unholiest of holys my dear sir. The foulest of fiends that ever existed? ” Henry tried not to sound rude to the man but how do you ask such a question and not.
The man threw back his head and just laughed at him.
“No, you little egotist. I’m the Tidy Bowl man come to clean your toilet. “
“You must think I’m pretty gullible to believe a lie like that?” Henry replied
“No, I don’t think your gullible I just think your pretty stupid.” the man on the throne replied.
Henry ignored the reply and asked Satan; for he was pretty sure now that this was Satan, why he had ended up in hell. Satan produced a clipboard from thin air and started thumbing through it and flipping pages and scanning down some list Henry could not see.
“Hmmm…it seems your soul took a wrong turn somewhere ..or perhaps God made a mistake on purpose and sent you to me. He does that on occasion you know; maybe he doesn’t like you either.”
Henry stomped his foot and told Satan to send him to heaven or he would do something to harm him. Satan laughed again and stood up from his throne of bones. Which Henry thought idly, didn’t look very comfortable to sit on.
“This is my domain. I rule here! You cannot give me an ultimatum ordering me to do anything! Besides, God and I are not on the best of terms. We have very incompatible natures you might say…we don’t see eye to eye on certain subjects. He has this crazy obsession with goodness and well-being and things like compassion…blah blah blah…which I can’t stand. Oh I must stop talking. It’s starting to make my head hurt bringing up all those horrible things.
Satan sat back on his throne and put his head down. To Henry Pym he almost looked depressed. Then a small trickle of a tear fell from Satan’s left eye and his body shuddered and he started to cry full on into his lap.
Henry thought it would be indiscreet to say anything more. Henry had never been very good at consoling crying people, let alone the Devil, so he left in a very versatile manner out of the cavernous room through a small dark tunnel.
Henry could still hear Satan’s loud sniffling and bawling carrying to his ear as he crawled down the tunnel far away from him. Henry soon forgot about him and wondered where the exit door was hiding to get him the hell out of hell…
Conclusion forthcoming soon as I get another
assignment to write a another story or until Superman stops wearing
my long underwear.
I hoped you found that entertaining. I know the story wasn’t riveting but hey I was sixteen. Needless to say I never did a get a chance to write the sequel to this and get Henry Pym out of hell. He has unfortunately been wondering there for quite some time.
Well my teacher wrote at the very bottom of this story on the last page in red ink this phrase. “What an imagination!”
She later came to me and recommended that I switch from regular English to Honors English because she thought my time was being wasted here in her class. Her recommendation propelled me into various books I never would have read at an early age and an appreciation for literature that excites me and guides me to this day in my reading and writing…and for that I want to thank her very much.
Than you Ms. Sikkema wherever you are. Did I mention she was a lesbian…before it was cool to be a lesbian and that she had told us story of her stealing a school bus when she was younger..she was so cool…I guess that’s why I have such a fondness for lesbians now…(sorry that last part I was thinking out loud). Thanks for listening.