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DarkZeroHyrule · #1 [ ] 10-01-2006, 07:02 PM

The first part of my first chapter of my ZuNoWriMo story! Enjoy, and remember that the chapter is not done yet!

Quote:

History

History repeats itself for those who do not learn it the first time.

The world has encountered this many a time. In the American Revolutionary War, the colonists fought using guerrilla warfare while the British were trying to be professional and the colonists won. In the Vietnam War, the Americans were trying to be professional while the Vietnamese were sniping at them from varied distances and wore them down. In both cases, the professionals withdrew from the field. In World War I, the Americans helped the British by sneaking weapons on passenger ships and cruise lines. The Lusitania was attacked by a German sub and the United States entered the war. In World War II, the Americans did the same thing with the Allied Powers and Japan bombed Pearl Harbor, causing them to enter another world war. Back in 1778, if a British soldier killed a father, then his three American sons would be against a British soldier. Now, in Iraq, if an American soldier kills a man, their three sons are against an American soldier. The Americans should have learned their history much better if they were to avoid this.

Of course, arrogance is the air that causes these things to happen. Another example would be the invasion of Iraq and then staying to “better” the nation, like the British did to the colonists after the French and Indian War, in 1763. Thirteen years later, a war started to break the tie with Britain. Some people might say that this situation is different, but it isn’t. Britain was arrogant in 1763. America was arrogant in 2001 until the large event caused an uproar and eventually lead them to this current day.

A boy awakened to these words. His eyes opened and closed a bit before his vision was focused. A face with light skin, green eyes, and a thick, black mustache looked straight at him. The boy jumped out of his seat, fearing the scowl the man had just held. His chair fell with a loud thud and everyone commenced laughing. The teacher placed himself upright, holding a golf club, or rather a piece of one.

“Robert!” he shouted, “What did I just say?”
“The Mississippi River was a horror!” the boy shouted.
“You weren’t listening, were you?” the teacher asked, “That’s a rhetorical question! Don’t answer it.”

Robert was a sixteen year old boy with blond hair, light skin, and brown eyes, but he was stuck in a class for the History of the United States of America. It was, according to the journal he kept, his most hated class. The teacher would always speak like his country made mistakes, but he knew that America was perfect. No matter what the teacher said, he always thought that America was the best. It was September 10, 2001 and the boy’s thoughts made the teacher do whatever he did to Robert twice as hard. Whenever he spoke about how the country made a mistake, he would repeat it in front of Robert. A paragraph on their knowledge of American History had sealed Robert’s fate and that led him to this very place. On top of everything, it was his sixth day of class. The teacher sighed and allowed Robert to sit down.

“Mr. Miller,” he called out, “How can you say America made mistakes?”

The teacher swung around, the golf club dangerously moved with him and now pointed at Robert. The student had obviously pricked a nerve and was about to get it.

“I’m glad you asked,” he happily said with his genuine smile, “But before I answer, please wake Miss Katherine up.”

Next to Robert was a young lady, three months younger than he. She was still fifteen, but became sixteen tomorrow. She had long, red, flowing hair that surrounded her face. When the boy gently nudged her cheek, she rose like, to Robert anyway, an angel. The hair let the artificial light of the classroom hit her face, showing her tan skin and blue eyes. She looked around and then saw Robert and smiled. However, the finger that nudged her awake pointed away from him to the right. She followed it and saw the scowl Mr. Miller sported. She jerked her head up.

“I’m sorry!” she shouted, “I didn’t get enough sleep!”
“You know what I say about excuses!” the teacher exclaimed, “It’s like the hole in the center of someone’s buttocks. Everyone has one and they all stink. Please don’t nod off in my class.”

She nodded and looked attentively at the blank blackboard. The teacher looked at the class again, remembering the question Robert had posed to him. He positioned himself above his grey, metal trash can and then sat on it. He swung the broken club around with his left, stopped it with his right, and then grabbed it like the metal handle bar on a roller coaster ride. Miller leaned forward, looked around again, and opened his mouth to speak. Out came the sounds of Liberty Bell, and the students began to leave. Defeated, he stood up and asked the two sleepers to stay behind. When everyone left and the second bell sounded, he began something different.
“I do not tolerate sleeping in my classroom,” he stated, “Do you understand?”
“Yes.” The two said.
“I will not hesitate to repeat the trash incident,” he continued, “Do you understand?”
“Yes.” They replied monotonously.
“You’re not listening,” he abruptly stated, “Right?”
“Yes.” They replied.

After a second, they realized what they had just told him, jerked back up, and became attentive. Mr. Miller looked at them again with anger.

“Do not sleep in my class. That is all.” He stated, allowing them to leave.

Robert retrieved his thing from the empty desk to his left and then watched Katherine rise. Her hair fell to her stomach and shined from the light, It always made him happy to see her glow in this light that he hated. Robert smiled as they left the class, holding hands.

The doors of the silent school opened to the sky of the screaming city. New York had always been loud, especially when they were so close to the Twin Towers. While the Statue of Liberty guided immigrants to the light and the Empire State Building lifted its head proudly, the Twin Towers supported more than the world. They supported each other. They stood at about equal height and did not literally lean on each other, but stood with equal pride. It was also called the World Trade Center because of the worldly trade that was conducted there. The sun gleamed at the two with red as it sank into the ground.

Robert led Katherine through the streets of the city into the dark, rushing subways and then went towards the more silent Uptown Manhattan, generally around 200th Street, also named Dyckman Street. The business street was not very well known, but peddlers from all over, except the continent of Asia (Canal Street dominated that), came to sell their items. The two went down the street to 196th Street. It was an unknown little alley instead of an actual street, but it gave the people living there pride. She lived in the red bricked building. It looked brand new. The doorway was painted black and the halls were swept and mopped, letting the light bounce off of the green tiles. The numbers of the building, 610, were white and gleamed. Across the street was where Robert lived. It was a rundown yellow bricked building. The doorway was black, but the paint was fading and the door was open. Inside, the red tiles were being mopped, but he knew they would never gleam. The second number of his building was missing, but the item that held it up left a mark, showing everyone it was 609.

Robert gave Katherine a kiss and went off into his rundown place of a home. They were to meet in an hour at the entrance of the local middle school that was resented by the residents. It was a nice red building and the symbols on the doorway read “Intermediate School 218”. A green gate was there, but it was never closed. Rust was on most of the green, so anyone could prick it open.

The sun had set and the two met outside, ready to go to the only fancy place in the local neighborhood their parents let them go; the Panda Chinese Restaurant. It was located on Nagle Avenue across the street from the Elementary School Public School 152. This fast-food restaurant was the place that was considered the ideal romantic dinner and the romantic walk was the incline up from Nagle to 196th Street, which was usually locked past ten o’clock.

WORD COUNT: 1458