The Last To Post Wins!

[Randoman]

Hiya Rando. XD

I toned down but she's still the best ever

=)

[Zanarkin]

I am currently winning, only to lose soon after :<

MEANIES!

[Breezy Kanzaki]

get wrecked

[Starman]

[Lance Masayoshi]

[Breezy Kanzaki]

TKAM was the best book

[Breezy Kanzaki]

one does not simply butcher TKAM

[Breezy Kanzaki]

Then you must have never laid witness to the many Jem x Scout fanfics that exist.

Those do not exist

any fanfics with incest do not exist

[Breezy Kanzaki]

Sigh

[Breezy Kanzaki]

What?

[Leinex]

Any of you read To Kill a Mockingbird?

Well anyways, I wrote a thing for it, which is basically re-telling the last night through the eyes of Bob Ewells. Had some fun with it.

Yes it's a final project option for school, but my teacher's an idiot who only really grades on organization, paper length etc, rather than how good it actually is.

Haven't written anything since my last short story, so here's this for any who care. Feedback is appreciated.[spoiler=For those who care]The Last Night-Bob Ewell

It’s not like I’m the one to blame in any of this. I drink, I do what I want with my children, and I live as I see fit. Things went by easy enough, no trouble. Until that Atticus Finch came around. A nigger comes in to my house, stirs up my Mayella. We gotta go to court to cover it all up, and then here comes the nigger-lover himself, making a fool of me and my Mayella. Just who does he think he is? Too proud to deal with me like a man, too proud to fight me face to face, on equeal terms, and instead acts so prude-ish and goes around with his nigger-loving sob stories. Sure, sure, Tom’s dead. But ever since that damned trial everyone in town treats us Ewells like dirt, and all because of that Atticus. Alone, in my room, I thought these thoughts on that fateful night, clutching my whiskey bottle. That was the only thing keeping me going those days. Always had to deal with the children, and Maycomb…it’s a good thing alcohol never betrayed me. You know, a man ought to be able to sit with a bottle of whiskey without any trouble, but I couldn’t even seem to get that. Fired from my job, out of everyone in Maycomb’s mind, that is, unless they decided to throw the occasional sneer, as if I was a nigger. I was absolutely sick of all their arrogance, seething. They always had to make themselves feel better than they are, whether it’s in courts, or in the streets. I’m the only one who has any sense around here, I often told myself. I didn’t follow any stupid laws, I said what I meant when I talked to people, and didn’t let anyone have their way over me. People ought to have been admiring the Ewells. Sick of it all, hated it with all my being. Entitlement knew no bounds. Someone needs to pay for this, I kept telling myself, waiting for my chance for veangeance. Gulp after gulp of alcohol just seemed to make me madder. I drifted into darker thoughts, murder, revenge, though it did nothing to satisfy my thirst for retaliation, a thirst that only seemed to grow the more vigorously I drank. Soon, all I could think about was Atticus. Nothing in my life seemed to matter, except bringing that man down. My children were no were to be found, I was jobless, but I fixated ever deeper on the one man who had single handedly ruined my life. I realized I was running low on my alcohol reserves, so I did the only thing reasonable to me at that point: go out and get some more. Unbalanced as I was, eventually I got to my feet, and made it to the door, in a fog of negative thoughts and alcohol. Walking around town did nothing to quell my rage. Seeing each building and store only served to inject more rage in me. Maycomb was beginning to disgust me. Darkness covered most of the town however, and most people I assumed were clustered near the mass of lights near the school auditorium. If only I could find the liquor shop, maybe I could forget all of this, I thought. On my way, I eventually got sidetracked quite a bit, and found myself going ever closer to the school auditorium, and the neighborhoods around it. Fate would have it that Atticus’ little brats were not too far away as well. Looking at them absolutely sickened me. All wide-eyed and laughing, one of them wearing this little pork outfit. They’d be going back to their nice-little home, and to their nice little father, all going along with their happy lives. Atticus must get a real kick out of them I thought, babying his snot-nosed children. Hmm…how would he feel if they never came back? I began to focus all of my anger, and all of my indignation onto those children. I knew I could do it, that I could kill them. I would exact my own justice, I would be the judge, the jury, and the executioner. Nothing would stop me. They would pay, as would Atticus. The desire for revenge blocked out everything else, tunnel vision right onto this children, rage coursing through me. I caught up behind them, determined, but not too hasty. The alcohol made it a little difficult to stay invisible, as I heard them chatter about sounds and noises from afar, yet oblivious to me, as Atticus was oblivious to my suffering, Waiting for the right moment was excruciatingly difficult, though the brat’s own stupidity would help with that. Luckily, it was quiet for me, and not too many people crowded the streets to complicate things. I lacked a gun however, or even a knife, so killing them could be a challenge. I was very confident in my strength however, and assumed they wouldn’t provide too much resistance. Hatred would be my weapon. Slowly, their murmurs became audible, and I felt the gap between us began to close. The inferno of alcohol and anger in my mind was too much to bear, I couldn’t wait any longer. I leapt at the boy with all my ferocity. My hold wasn’t firm enough it would prove, as the little worm squirmed out, dragging the girl behind him. I must have broken something, as the brat screamed, and I reveled in that sound. Lunging again, I grabbed a hold of the girl, and my arms were a vice of envy and vengeance. She kicked and struggled, frustrating enough, but I squeezed ever tighter, through her ridiculous costume. In this frenzy, I barely even recognized the cold iron bite of a knife digging into my skin. Who was responsible for this, I never found it. Then the pain became cruelly apparent. The vague outline of a ghost seemed to be flashing around me, but my mind was a blur. I slid back against a tree, slowly feeling the life drain out of me. I cursed at the wind with my remaining breath. Cursed everything and anything that came to mind, though Atticus remained prevalent even in that state. I could not distinguish if the lights I saw in the distance were my ending life, or the men gathered around in the houses beyond. Perhaps a mixture of both. In the end, I never was able to get that Atticus. Never able to return the pain the town had given me. I would die, and nobody would ever think about the Ewells again, but the Finches would be well and fine. I started to feel an overwhelming chill. Drowning in my own blood, I slowly sank down further into the tree. Never…could get…what I deserved… I gasped, before my eyes closed, and I departed from the world that had so cruelly rejected me.

Uhmmm, I'm running on pure exhaustion right now, but I like this. I think this captures his emotions and overall self-victimization really well. My main complaint would be that it's written in first person, but the writing style seems too...neat for Bob Ewell. I'm guessing you did that because of your teacher, judging from what you wrote up there.

What?

Everything is going to be otay.

[Interest]

It's all otaku from here.

[buttmuncher.ops]

what the fuck does that even mean

[Interest]

Beats me, I'm being random.

[Breezy Kanzaki]

Oh

Crizzie's back...

[Leinex]

Oh
Crizzie's back...

Yes, I am actually alive.

Oh, Crizix.

Yes, I was too grandiose for Bob, but it'll have to do.
Hey, Scout narrates in a much more neat way then she talks, so enh.

Hi Shezzy.

Ah, true. 0:

[Breezy Kanzaki]

Yes, I am actually alive.

Hi Shezzy.

Ah, true. 0:

yaaaaay

[Leinex]

It won't matter in the end.

The teacher barely even cares about things that actually matter in writing.

In fact, she turned me off from it for a while, and wasn't until the writing competition that I started writing again.

Oh well, how are you surviving the end of the year madness Crizix?

Wow, that's not good at all. At least the year's almost over? ^^;

It was pretty hectic for me, but now I'm on vacation haha. I'm being expected to find some summer job or something, so I'm not too excited. >~>

yaaaaay

^o^

[Breezy Kanzaki]

*hugs Crizzie*

[Leinex]

-late hugs Breezy back-

[Starman]

so late crizuzu

[Acacia Sgt]

Better than never.

[Leinex]

so late crizuzu

Better than never.

Exactly!

[Interest]

[spoiler=Oh gawd.]

*thinks perversely*

[Leinex]

Interest why