Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-25114042-20140703060837/@comment-24381191-20140705105323

TerrorStories wrote: I woke up this morning to the wonderfully exotic sound of rain drumming on the tin roof of my old house. The sound of my mother's soft, cooing voice, politely asking me to wake up tremendously complimented this. The dark gray clouds eclipsing the sun tinted my blue room a comforting, subtle shade of white, rather than the ugly, screaming bright yellow of most days. I live in Oregon, and it hasn't rained in months, so I woke up knowing that today would be a good day. For the first time in years, the depressing thought of having to put up with another day of school didn't phase me. I gleefully got out of bed and prepared for the hell that was school.

I happily walked to school under the shelter of my umbrella. For the first time in weeks, no bullies tried to jump me along the way. I arrived, and once again read the large letters spelling out "Moutain View High School" in my head. I went straight to my homeroom, class 113. Besides being an awful source of education, my school had a bizarre way of organizing things. I just so happened to be "lucky" enough to be put in "lucky class 113". Though thirteen is widely known as an unlucky number, "13" is actually considered a lucky number by the imbacilles at my school. Every class thirteen (113, 213, 313, and 413) in the whole school is stocked full of jocks and cheerleaders. And, of course, there's me. A Pokemon-loving, glasses wearing geek.

I'm considered an omen at my school. I'm completely ignored by everyone. The only people around me who dare acknowledge my existence are people who I simply can't stand being around. They're all jocks who have fun making up rumors about me and spreading them like wildfire. Today, during lunch, they came up to me whispering to each other and laughing like insane hyenas, obviously making fun of me in front of my face. They then cleared their throats, trying to pretend to be serious, and started asking me weird questions about myself, like "Do you masterbate to Pokemon?", "How many balls do you need to catch a legendary?" and "Do you peek at girls in the shower?".

They all laughed, as if I thought they were legitimately being serious.

As a fan of sarcasm, I replied to them in the most sarcastic voice I could manage. "Of course, I mean, who doesn't? Pokemon are soooo hot.", "Psh, I don't need any balls. I never had any to begin with.", and "Of course. When they notice me watching them, I say 'Man, I love to Pikachu!'"

They pretended that they thought I was the funniest person in the world, then they all stood up and went to the table of their fellow brutes in the corner of the cafeteria. Then they told them about everything I had said as if I was completely serious when I replied so sarcastically. All of them were staring at me and laughing, saying things like, "What a weird fucked up kid!" and "He should go to hell for beastyality!" I ran to the bathroom and locked myself in a stall. Hot tears were streaming down my face. "...Pussy." I muttered to myself in a shaky voice.

Apparently, the jocks had followed me into the bathroom, because I was startled by the sound of a fist pounding on the door of the stall. "Can I come in? I want you to squirtle on my jigglypuffs!" One jock mocked me in a stupid girl voice as all of his friends laughed. I didn't say anything. "...Okay, sweetheart! I'm comin in!" He easily crawled under the stall and opened the door behind him, allowing his friends to see the awful events about to take place. I stared at him in awe and terror. It was the head of the football team. Jeremy Joyce.

Now, I had known Jeremy way before I started going to Mountain View High. We met in sixth grade at my old middle school. We both had braces and wore glasses, as well as liked Pokemon, and games like it. We were constantly made fun of. But we had each other, so the hatred didn't phase us. We were best friends, I went to his house after school everyday and he slept over at mine every Saturday.

But after summer, when wein seventh grade, we were enrolled in seperate classes. Jeremy had gotten his braces taken off, and he now wore contacts. All of the girls adored him, obsessed over him. He was the new hottest boy at our school. But I wasn't so lucky. While I was being made fun of, Jeremy was recieving mass amounts of praise. He didn't hang out with me anymore. For the first time in my life, I was jealous.

So I did the thing any seventh grade boy would do in my situation. On the Saturday after the first week of school... I asked him to come into my room for a talk. "Look man, I know how unfortunate it is that you aren't popular, but--" "SHUT UP." I started crying uncontrollably. "You have EVERYTHING you could EVER want. ALL I WANT IS A FRIEND." I tackled him and he fell to the floor. He struggled a lot, but I managed to stay on top of him and flip him over to handcuff his hands behind his back."What the fuck, man?! Really! This is hilarious, ha ha. Just like in GTA. Great joke, I love it. Now can please let me go?!"

I regret what I did to Jeremy. But pouring boiling hot water onto the right side of his face was the only logical thing I thought to do.

Now, looking at his face, I can remember his awful screeching. It was an awful sight, his eyes rolled back into his head and he started wailing in pain as the water made his skin disentegrate. Now, his face had fully healed, no longer was it bumpy and covered in gashes. He was now about 6' 2" and had a mass amount of muscles. Puberty treated him well. I must've been staring for awhile, because Jeremy looked confused. "What's wrong? CAT GOT YOUR BALLS?" That was the stupidest phrase I had ever heard. Yet all the jocks laughed their asses off.

Suddenly, I understood what he meant when those brain dead words left his lips. Jeremy put his large hand on my head and pushed me back, so my short arms couldn't reach him. He then grabbed my genitals and pulled as hard as he could. I screamed. The pain I experienced as he tightened his iron grip was unbearable. Almost as painful as having to hear the jocks laughing. I couldn't stop bawling. "SUCK IT UP, DICKHEAD." Jeremy yelled as he clenched his teeth and pulled harder. My screams became louder. Tears and mucas streaming down my face.

The jocks' laughter died down. Only my screams were heard. I looked down to see my pants soaked in urine... As well as a darker liquid. Blood. "HAHA, GUYS, I THINK HE'S ON HIS PERIOD!" Jeremy laughed, a psychotic grin spread wide on his face. The jocks looked worried. One of them spoke over my screams, which were becoming progressively more and more quiet as I was running out of breath. "JJ, uh, I think that's enough."

Jeremy's head turned towards the kid. "DON'T TELL ME WHAT TO DO, ASSHOLE." The first bell rang, signaling kids to start heading to class. "Saved by the bell..." The jock mumbled. I watched as everyone left. None attempting to help me. I was now alone with Jeremy. I couldn't take the pain much longer.

Thirty seconds later, the second bell rang, signaling kids that class was now in session. I kicked Jeremy in the calf as hard as I could. "FUCK." He let go of me and I started breathing heavily. He then pushed me and I fell backwards and into the toilet. He moved his face uncomfortably close to mine. "Don't fuck with me, kid." He kept his eyes interlocked with mine, until he was out of the stall. Then he smirked maniacally and ran to class. That was... Odd. I thought to myself. Jeremy's never been THAT mean to me before... Heck, he's never been that mean to anyone before! Jeremy had never been the type of kid who would hurt people he hated. Even for vengence.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);">After this traumatic experience, I decided it would be best to skip the rest of the day and head home.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);">---

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);">I changed it a bit.

<p style="color:rgb(212,212,213);">.-.

These changes actually made the story way better. But there's still some problems, mostly grammatical.

Every time you capitalise an entire word in a sentence, it makes me wanna bash my head. Use italics instead.

Also, "DON'T TELL ME WHAT TO DO ASSHOLE."

It should be, "Don't tell me what to do, asshole!"

Also, how can everyone see what Jeremy is doing? Shouldn't he be the only one, as you were locked in a bathroom stall, and he was the only on to crawl inside.

Unless I know nothing about bathroom stalls, they aren't see-through.

You spelled mucus wrong and you don't even need to use it, just keep the tears.

Every time a character says something, you have to start a new paragraph, rules of grammar.

The ending was pretty boring and bland. Readers will look at the ending and be like, 'Well, that was pointless." This isn't a story, it's one event.

Also, what about the mother's blood thingy?

If you kept that mother part short and in third person, it might become a popular urban legend but that's not likely so include it in this.