Michael's World

This evening, I had the idea to start a book. In a flash of inspiration, I think I thought of a pretty fun plot which nobody would ever predict...although you wouldn't guess that from the start.

Well, here's the beginning...a couple hours of writing. Perhaps I should do more outlining first? Nah...I've tried that before, I know what the major plot points are so I will just keep on writing on-the-fly from point to point. I'll try posting here as I go.

Without further ado...

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There was a window, with warm light flooding in through it, silhouetting a row of plastic figurines posed along the sill. They were covered with a fine later of dust which glowed in the light. Patterns of light and shadow cast by the slats in Michael's half drawn blinds played across a landscape of white sheets. Michael lay motionless staring at his Ninja Turtle figures, breathing slowly and evenly.
Donatello gripped his staff, and faced off against the foot-bot. "Come on and get it, I'll kick you in the face!" he shouted. The foot bot grimaced, and pulled a knife. They both froze as their came the knock at the door, followed by a pause.
"Michael? Time to get up, honey." The handle turned slowly, and his mother entered, wrapped in her pink fuzzy bathrobe. Michael lay motionless, closing his eyes. She walked over to the bed and gently shook him. "Time to get up, honey."
"Okay mom." He didn't open his eyes. He wished she would go away, or wake him up…because he didn't want to get himself up. She rose and left the room. Michael continued to lay motionless, and drifted off for a few minutes. He awake again a few minutes later, to the sound of laughing from his little brother, and the clank of dishes. They didn't seem to care that he wasn't up. He wished they would just drag himself out of bed so he didn't have to, but they trusted him too much.

At the breakfast table, his little brother Sam was still eating. He waited for Sam to take a gulp of milk and then made a face. Sam smiled and shook his head. "I'm not gonna spill it, dumbass." Michael kicked him under the table. He missed and hit the chair leg, and Sam laughed again, and this time almost did spill his milk. Michael kicked him again and made sure to get him solidly in the leg.
"Mom, Michael's kicking me," whined Sam. He was such a brat, always calling mom in to mediate between them. "Hey, that's not funny Michael. Stop kicking your brother."
"I wasn't…," Michael pleaded weakly, and went about eating his Cinnamon Life cereal. Sam kicked him under the table. Michael kicked back, harder.
"Hey!" mom came back over, and pulled his chair out from the table to face her. "I said no kicking. Ok? Hey, listen to me ok?"
"He kicked me."
"Oh, hahaha, do you expect me to believe you? This is not funny, leave your brother alone."
"Ok," he submitted. Sam poked his cheek with his tongue to hold back laughter as he continued to eat in silence.

It was a long morning until recess. Finally they were let out, and Michael was first to get the good new rubber kick ball. A few kids followed him out to the old flat section of the wall where the paved road met the school and they played wall-ball. Michael was pretty sure he was the best, but it wasn't a good day for him. He kept missing, damnit. ******* ball. He was still winning, though.

The ball bounced out and rolled towards Danny, who was already walking towards them.

"Oh great, I bet he wants to play," one of the boys said. Danny was a little whiner, nobody liked him. He picked up the red ball cradling it against his chest, and walked up to them.
"Right here," Michael said and held out his arms. Danny didn't throw the ball, just walked up to them. "Can I play," he asked, adjusting his thick glasses.
"No you can't play with us, Danny," Michael said, and punched the ball out of his grasp. It hit the pavement and bounced up into his face, knocking his glasses to the ground. One of the lenses popped out.
"You're such a jerk, Michael! I just wanted to play!"
"You can't play wall ball with glasses, idiot. That's why you can't play." Michael served.

A few minutes later, he noticed Ms. McNeal walking over with Danny close at her side. What a surprise, the little whiner couldn't keep his trap shut.

Another afternoon spent in the teacher's office. Michael sat at the small desk they held on reserve in the office, running his fingers over the etchings in the desk from a hundred kids before him. There were swear words carved into it, pen scribbles. He leaned over his shoulder to watch the fat secretaries at their desks. Eventually the door opened, and the principal ushered him in.

"Tell me what you did, Michael."
"Nothing."
"No, you didn't do nothing. I already talked with Ms. McNeal, she told me what happened. Why do you have to cause so much trouble, Michael?"
Michael stared at the poster behind him depicting a mountain fraught with challenges. Little people worked their way up and at the top it said, "Success." He sighed.
"I don't know, he doesn't know how to play. He'd just mess it up."
"Well, you could teach him to play."
"Yeah right."
"I mean it Michael, that's no reason to exclude him. And you broke his glasses?"
"No, it was an accident." Michael stared at the floor. He wouldn't have done it any differently. He wished everyone would just leave him alone, so what if Danny cried. It was just an accident anyway.

That night, Michael watched the lights of the cars pass by their house, sending long Ninja Turtles shadows through his room. He tried to guess when the next one would come. His mom talked on the phone, probably with her sister Jamie…he guessed by the tone in her voice, but he couldn't hear what she said. He lay for hours, until he heard the faint rumbling of the train that gently shook the house. He hated sleep, because it was so hard to find. But it always came, after he was done waiting for it, and without him noticing it. And then it came.

Michael was playing tag on the playground. Suzie Sharon was it, the girl with the red hair and freckly face. She had the prettiest smile. Michael hid under the board walk. It was a good spot. He worked his way in deeper and deeper, sliding over the chalky gravel like a worm towards the other side. Then there was something he had never noticed before, a dark tunnel in the gravel that went deep. He had been here a hundred times, and never seen this before. Michael crawled into the tunnel, and a cool breeze hit his face. The sound of laughing and the thudding of running feet on the board walk above slowly faded into silence as he continued down the dark tunnel.

It grew wet, and the rocks grew sharper and larger. Michael was no pussy, he crawled on. His leg slipped on the smooth wet rock in the darkness, slitting his knee. ****. He rubbed it with his hand, squeezed it, then pressed on. Gradually his eyes began to adjust to the lower light so that he could see…or perhaps it was light. With each turn the tunnel grew lighter, until eventually there was a shining column of light from above…illuminating millions of tiny particles of dust as they slowly swirled in the musty air.

Michael pulled himself out of the hole, and into the majestic daylight. Being back on the surface, it felt like a whole new world. But something was strange. The play ground was out of sight. There were no sounds except the peaceful sounds of the forest which he loved. But that was not all. He picked up a leaf, it was a maple…but it was tiny. The trees, the bushes, they were all too small. Michael stood up. His head poked through the canopy, and he could see as far as he wanted in every direction, over a lumpy layer of green treetops.

He could see the end of the forest, and trails of rising smoke. Looking closely, he could see rooftops. Michael headed in that direction, walking with a squat to avoid the limbs from smacking him in the face as he walked. It was difficult passage, and by the time he broke out of the trees his neck had a bad cramp.

He was now in a golden field, and the village was far off yet. Movement caught his eye, and Michael looked down to see a tiny figure hiding behind a tree. It was a boy, about his own age…but at least five times smaller.
"Hello, boy," said Michael. "What's your name?" The boy was hesitant…then stepped forth.
"I'm Dotty," he said.
"…and I'm Snotty," said another voice. Michael turned to see another tiny boy sitting on a rock. Michael smiled. "I'm Michael. What are you guys doing out here?"
"We're looking for toads," said Snotty. "Seen any?"
"No, sorry. How come you guys are so small?"
"I don't know, how come you're so big?"
"I'm not big, you're small," said Michael. He marveled at the boy's tiny features.
"Got one, got one!" said Dotty. Dotty cupped his hands, and Snotty ran over to peek. "That's a big one," he said. "Do you want to see it, Michael?" Michael kneeled down and lay forward onto his elbows.
"Yeah," he said eagerly.
"First, you have to promise to be our friend."
"Okay, I promise." Dotty opened his hands to reveal the tiny brown speck that was a toad. It made a toad-sound, and hopped out of his hand and into a bush.
"Hey Michael, can you stay for dinner?" asked Dotty.
"I don't know, I guess so."

Someone was shaking him. Michael mumbled, rolled over and flailed out an arm. "Time to wake up, Michael." It was mom. She was sitting on the bed, her hand on his shoulder. Michael opened his eyes, and stared at her. It took a few seconds for him to realize he wasn't in the forest anymore…how disappointing. Real life was always such a let down.
"I made you some pancakes, you better eat them before they get cold."
"What…why? You made pancakes on a school day?"
"Haha, it's not a school day, Michael - it's Saturday."

She rarely made them pancakes, so this was a big treat. Michael and Sam both had big stacks soaked in maple syrup. There was orange juice, toast, sausage and eggs, too. Mom was still wearing her bathrobe, making more pancakes at the stove.
"Boys," she said, "next weekend is the hearing. Daddy's going to be there, but don't be afraid. All you have to do is tell the judge that you want to stay with me, and everything will be ok, alright?"
"What's a hearing?" asked Sam.
"Oh, um…honey, a hearing is just when people go to a courtroom to make a decision."
"I want to see daddy," said Sam.
"I know you do, honey…but daddy's not the man he used to be anymore. I'm sorry. It's going to be just us from now on, ok? But we can still be a happy family together."
"I'm the man of the house now," said Michael with a smile.
"Haha, that's right you are…but you still have to answer to me big shot."

At lunch time on Monday, Michael got his brown bag lunch out of his locker and went back into the home room to eat with Mr. Jacobsen. They always ate lunch together on Mondays, when the classroom was empty. Michael would watch the younger kids at recess through the window while they ate.

"Mr. Jacobsen?"
"Yeah?"
"Will you buy me a four-wheeler?"
"No."
"Please, please, please? That's what my mom said."
"I'll tell you what Michael, if you're good for the rest of the school year…don't get sent to the office for anything…then I'll buy you a four wheeler, ok?"
"Ok," Michael said with a grin. He could do that. He would just have to be careful. Michael smiled as he ate his sandwich, thinking about how much fun it was going to be to drive that around the play ground next year.

After school Michael had to go to a different place, he forgot what it was called. It was sort of like school except that they didn't even try to teach anything, just kept you occupied for a few hours until the moms would get out of work to pick their kids up. Lots of kids from school had to go, and it would actually be fun if he didn't have to go, and if he had friends.

After the school buses went their routes, they would circle back around and drop off the remaining kids at the after school program. The bus would be about half full, and Michael would be sitting near the back end of the bus, staring silently out the stained yellow bus window and daydreaming, as he was today.

After the regular kids were dropped off, he could get a seat to himself finally. But today, Ricky Radar came and sat down next to him. Michael tried to ignore him and keep looking out the window. Ricky stared at him, then pulled Michael's hood down over his eyes. "What's up, doc?"
"Shut up, Ricky." Ricky punched him. "Stop it!"
"No, you stop it!" Ricky said, and punched him again.
"I'm going to tell on you when we get there."
"Go ahead, idiot." Michael tried to ignore him, but the punches kept coming. He didn't want to get into a fight…he wasn't about to lose that four wheeler.

When they got there, Michael marched up to one of the counselors and told her what Ricky had done. Ricky was pulled aside, and they were brought in to talk in the private room. Ricky didn't just wait, though, he cried so that Ms. Finch had to comfort him. Then she let him talk first. Ricky lied through his teeth, and told her that Michael had been punching him. Michael was furious, but there was nothing he could do.

He took the punishment, he had to. He spent the remainder of the afternoon in solitude in the room upstairs, thinking about how badly he was going to get Ricky back. He cried too, but Ms. Finch didn't comfort him.

When Michael's mom came to pick him up, she had to talk to Ms. Finch first, and so of course that meant she had to talk with Michael in the car on the way home.
"That jerk! Ricky is such a jerk, he was punching me mom, and I didn't punch him back because I was trying to be good. And then I told Ms. Finch and he started crying and he said that I was punching him instead! That ******* bastard, he's going to regret it."
"Hey, hey now, calm down Michael," said mom. "I believe you, but don't get yourself in more trouble for this kid, ok? Don't stoop yourself to his level, don't let him affect you."
"I don't care, he's going to pay for this." Mom sighed.
"There's nothing you can do, Michael. You just have to let it go honey."

Michael was still mad when he went to bed. He wanted to get back at Ricky so badly, but he couldn't think of a way to do it without getting in trouble himself. Maybe he could get a rotten egg and secretly put it in Ricky's backpack so that he smelled bad. He smiled. That would work.

There came a tapping at Michael's window. He froze every muscle in his body, so as not to move the sheets. Any robbers might not notice him if he lay still. A shadow moved in the sill, and there was a rustling of the bushes and flowers outside the window. A face pressed against the glass: it was dad's. He tapped again, and motioned for him to come down.

Michael groggily pushed the covers aside and sat up, walked over to the window and slid it up. "What are you doing here?"
"Hey, hey Michael…I came to see you. How are you doing there, partner?"
"Why don't you use the door?"
"Haha, well…your mom, she doesn't want me coming around…you know? So you better keep this our secret, ok buddy? Come on out, I want to show you something."
"No, I want to go to bed."
"Hey now, I came all the way out here for you ok? Now get your clothes on and come out boy."

As soon as he was out the window, dad grabbed him by the wrist and led him briskly up the hill. Michael followed as best he could in his groggy state. He was so tired, he just wanted to sleep. Dad led him to the top of the grassy hill, where they lay down under the stars. The night air was cool and peaceful, and the stars were plentiful and bright. Michael curled up on the blanket next to his dad. He smelled of alcohol.
"Michael, Michael, Michael…rough times, eh? You know, I just wanted to take you up here so we could lay under the stars again, like father like son. I just want you to know that I love you, okay?"
"Okay, dad."
"…and you're mom's trying to take you away, you know that? After all I did for her, she's trying to steal you away from me like a kidnapper! Christ, I never did anything wrong, you know that. But it doesn't have to be that way, all you gotta do is tell that judge the truth, that you and your brother would be better off with me. I've got a new apartment, we could get a TV, it'll be fun."
"But I like my room."
"Well, you can have a new room."
"No, I want to stay here."
"Now don't you argue with me, boy! You don't know what's best for you, now I'm trying to make this easy…but you won't listen, will you? Jesus."
"Can we go back now dad? I'm tired."
"You can go back when I'm through with you. Now, let me make something clear…you will tell that judge that you want to stay with me, or you will regret it. Do I make myself clear?"
"Ok, I will…"
"And don't you go blabbing to your mom telling her that I came over here, neither. You understand?"
"Yeah, dad."

Michael didn't remember walking back to his room. He didn't remember his dad helping him through the window, or climbing into bed in his boxer shorts. As soon as his head hit the pillow, or perhaps before, his mind was lost to the dream world.

There he was again, walking through that miniature forest. Michael looked about over the treetops, and noticed the familiar wisps of smoke from the village beyond. This time, he would go there.

After fighting through the densely canopied forest, he entered the golden wheat fields. It scraped against his shins, irritating his skin as he walked. He kept feeling like the stalks were bugs crawling up his legs, and swatting at them.

Finally he entered the outskirts of the town. It was like nothing he'd ever seen before. The miniature houses were made of mud and thatch.