GUYS! THERE'S NOT AN UNFINISHED BOARD!

[writerstaremily]

So...*makes face*...I shall be a rebel and post my UNFINISHED (puts emphasis on the word) STORY! BUAHAHAH!

[writerstaremily]

Prolouge:
“It’s not so much flying as being just thinking something and being up there,” said George, pacing in his room.

His wife, Nicolette, sat on his bed, patiently listening.

“George, face it. You can’t fly, honey!” she sighed, watching George’s face become confused and annoyed.

“Nicolette, I can! I did it!” he fought, but no emotion came, he was drifting off into thought.

Nicolette stood up.

“George, there’s something wrong with this picture! You can’t fly!”

George’s face filled with rage, a raging rosy color filling his pale face.

“YOU DON’T KNOW, NICOLETTE!” he yelled, storming out of the room. Nicolette was left on his bed, her face confused and stricken.

[writerstaremily]

Chapter 1:
They were a normal couple, in love and young. George was a smart man, a businessman-type person that was usually quick with answering riddles and figuring out hard-to-solve math problems. So of course, Nicolette was artistic. A dreaming writer, she poured over her books and notebooks like they were her children, with a loving air and a sense of beauty.

They were perfect together. Just like a movie, they were meant to be, and they were in love. Married at age 18, George had been shoved into the business world altogether too quickly and Nicolette wasn’t quite ready to be turned down by so many publishers so fast.

But together, they grew. Now in their twenties, they were still in love, and George’s business was doing well—Nicolette hadn’t been published yet, but was in the middle of a novel.

George hadn’t been completely filled up with business. He wasn’t foggy or faraway like most businessmen, he didn’t stop loving Nicolette and he would still be a great father.

Now they were there, living in a small apartment that was randomly placed in a dirty alley near the edge of New York City. George worked for a law firm, and Nicolette spent all her time at home.

Night was the time they were together, complaining loudly about their days, or smiling softly and explaining what had been wonderful about their day. George asked about Nicolette’s characters.

“How’s Sue?” he would say, smiling a carefree smile at her, his gray suit seeming out-of-place with his loving face.

“She’s fine, today she hurt Tony,” Nicolette would say, smiling back, hair falling out of her messy bun.

Everything was fine. George and Nicolette were happy, healthy, and George’s job was getting better by the day, as he was promoted two times. Now he was assistant manager.

Then the day came. It wasn’t bad, but then again—it wasn’t good either.

It was at the kitchen table, the dim light that floated from the setting sun shining on their oak wood table.

“I’m going to have a baby.”

It burst out of Nicolette’s rosy lips before she could prevent it. She said nothing, and stared down at her plate, her cheeks burning a pale pink.

As soon as those words reached him, George’s eyes widened. He hung open his jaw, staring at Nicolette.

“We’re…what?” he choked, grabbing onto the table for support. He couldn’t take this. His mind whirled with questions, his heart thumping faster than it had ever thumped before. Everything seemed wrong all of the sudden. His apartment whirled around him.

“We’re having a baby,” repeated Nicolette, a bit louder this time, staring with intensity at her husband.

George breathed heavily at the thought of having a child of his own. He blinked, trying to regain control of his shaking body.

Then the joy leaked in. Having his own child, being able to brag about how his son or daughter had gotten 100% on his quiz.

“I’m so proud,” mumbled George, wobbling over to Nicolette and throwing his arms around her neck.

“We’re officially a couple,” laughed Nicolette.

“They’ll be great,” promised George, his word stopping its spinning.

[writerstaremily]

Chapter 2:
George was on the phone.

“See, if we got that kind of program, we’d have to redo the whole system,” said George, a sign of weary tugging at his face. It had been months since Nicolette had announced the baby; now her belly was large and round.

George wanted to go to sleep; it had been a long day at the office.

Little did he know, just a couple miles away, Nicolette sat on the bed, panicking.

She had known the baby was coming soon, but she wasn’t quite expecting it. She, in frenzy, dialed George’s number. It just buzzed and told her George was on the phone.

She leapt up, staring at the puddle of water that had sprung onto the ground. Tears tugged at her eyes. Nicolette had nothing else to do—she grabbed the phone and dialed.

“911.”

What else was she to do?

“Hello, 911? Yes, I’m having a baby—and I was wondering if you could send an ambulance…”

The man agreed, asking for her address.

The siren came wailing, blinking lights onto her apartment. It was all vauge and blurry to her as she went into the ambulance.

Before she knew what was happening, she was surrounded by rushes of white, being rushed through the hospital halls.

“Breath,” she told herself, “BREATH!”

It was all so immediate and so rushed, she could hardly breath. But she tried and she pushed and she was rushed…the nurses came, the doctors helped, and all she could do was sit there, amazed and frightened.

Miles away, George was still on the phone.

“Bill, I’m gonna have to talk about this to you later—I’m going home now,” he said, rubbing his creased forehead. He hung up the phone.

He groaned as it rung again. Looking at the caller ID, his heart leapt. He gulped as he picked up.

“Yes?” he asked weakly.

“Your wife’s having the baby,” said a gruff, deep voice.

That was all George needed. He was up on his feet, running. It was just like the feeling when he learned they were going to have it, dizzying and scary. All he could do was run out, his briefcase banging against his leg as he ran. A feeling of disbelief filled him as he hailed a taxi, realizing he wouldn’t be able to run to the hospital.

“Seren Hospital,” he said, “NOW!” The taxi driver hit the gas. George’s mind was tangled and confused, everything about this was new and different. He watched the city rush by, rushing like his brain.

As they stopped in front of the hospital, George stumbled out. He ran, using all his energy, up the flights of stairs that twisted and turned. Faces floated by, he didn’t care.

George plopped down into a waiting-room chair, attempting to calm his shaking self.

A doctor walked by, his medical uniform poofing out behind him. George reached out his sweaty hand.

“Is my wife…Nicolette Johansen…is she okay?” he asked, his voice shaking.

“Nicolette?” asked the doctor, raising his eyebrows. “Ah, yes.” The doctor turned on his heel.

“Follow me.”

George followed, lagging behind the doctor’s sure steps, following with his weak steps.

“And here she is,” said the doctor, opening the door. There sat Nicolette, her body covered by a thin, white sheet. Her hair was messy, her face disheveled. But that didn’t matter.

George ran to her, collapsing his arms around hers. Then he looked down, looking at the small figure in her arms, joy filling every inch of him. Nothing felt confusing, at least for now.

“Beautiful,” he breathed, “beautiful.”

“She’s a girl,” smiled Nicolette after placing a kiss on George’s thin lips.

“Samantha?” asked George, talking about the time they had been discussing names.

“Samantha,” nodded Nicolette.

And that was the day Samantha was born.

[writerstaremily]

Chapter 3:
Years had passed. George hadn’t been able to keep his stable position as wonderful father and president of a business, of course. He was home late now, later than the time his seven-year-old daughter had gone to bed.

On this particular night, Nicolette was upset.

“George! It’s later than 10:00! What the heck is your problem? We have a family now! You can’t just…just come whenever you want! We have a dead-line. Yes, you, Mr. ‘Family-Man’ have a curfew! Come home at 8:30 from now on, understood?” she yelled, her eyes red and puffy, her face pink and in rage.

George crumpled onto the bed, throwing his briefcase carelessly to a chair and peeling off his black socks.

“Sure, Nicolette,” he yawned, settling back under the covers.

“George, you have to promise me!” she yelled. It was then he heard the tears choked in her throat, and saw his wife’s face.

“I promise, Nicolette,” he whispered, trying to sound as meaningful as possible.

Nicolette frowned.

“You don’t mean it, George, don’t pretend you do.”

George closed his eyes.

“I love you, Nicolette,” he promised and then settling back into a small, uneasy sleep, full of pictures of Nicolette screaming.

“Dada!” called a little voice, peeping out from a small, pink room that was placed at the end of the hallway.

George tip-toed down the hallway, hoping not to wake his wife who slept in the room close to Samantha.

A short stringy-brown-haired girl with big, green-blue eyes stared at him. Her Little Mermaid pajamas looked cold in the air-conditioning.

“I can’t go to sleep,” she said, a little pout coming to her face.

“Want Dada to tell you a bedtime story?” offered George, racking his brain for ways to make his seven-year-old daughter happy.

“No,” pouted Samantha, tugging on his hand and leading him i
~~~
BUAHAHA! IT ENDS HERE! BECAUSE I HAVEN'T WRITTEN THE REST! And I honestly hate that story so much I think I just cried.

[madandfrozen]

OMG!!! What happens next??? That is sooooooooooo sooo sooo good! Please write the rest?

[Bethany]

I definately like the charecters that you have here, but something this story lacks a lot of is indirect characterization. That goes back to the 'showing, not telling' thing I told to someone else. It's where the charecter does something to display a trait about them instead of having the book say "Bob is this." Idealy, an author will want to use indirect charecterization whenever possible.

The beginning of your story sounds almost like a drawn-out summary instead of the beginning of a book. You have to have something happening then!

But all critisism aside, I do like it, and I definately want to see what George will do in the long run.

[wionasfate]

lol. I wrote an intro for a charrie on an rp site, and most of it was inderect characterization. A girl was supposed to read it and put me into a rp group, according to my rp skills. She said I didn't descibe the personality very much. I'll post it up. That is besides the point. Your story so far is quite good.