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August 12, 2008

Revised ||Destroying Damon Black: The Jerk Next Door|| Chapter 1

Hey friends, fans, and fellow writers! Welcome to the new and improved Destroying Damon Black.

Seeing as how I move out of my house in less than a week, updates on this story will be slow.

The story has changed a bit, although the main plot remains the same. There's still Novalie, protagonist, and her ultimate battle against her enemy, Damon, antagonist. There's still some creepy stalker who lurks in the shadows. More characters have been added, and some have, unfortunately, been eliminated. But don't worry Cody, Cole, and Mitchell fans because the Three Stooges are still a big part of the story.

So please read the new chapter 1 and leave a comment. I want to know if you, the readers and critics, like the revised version as much as I do. Enjoy! Hopefully.....

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"City fellers flock to small town girls like vultures to a carcass," --Gas Station Clerk

Well, it's official. The worst day of my life has arrived. Moving Day. I'd be lying if I said I was thrilled to be moving to a tick-infested, corn-obsessed, rural town like Coldwater Creek. Population: A bunch of hicks and loonies.

When presented with the option of moving into a plush Manhattan apartment with my mother Renee and her husband Timothy, I almost jumped at the chance. That was until I found out who else would be living with us: Dean Sheppard, Timothy's son from his first marriage. Let's just say that Dean and I get along about as well as two Tasmanian devils locked in a cramped cage. Our feud started in elementary school when I presented Dean with an astonishingly assembled bouquet of Daffodils. The snot-nosed brat threw my bouquet on the ground and stomped on it. To make matters worse, he whipped "it" out and preceded to water my show of affection. When he was finished, I fractured his nose with a fist-to-the-face, and after that, our grade school romance was dead and buried.

My other choice was to move to Coldwater Creek with my father David, his new wife Cheryl, and my little brother Benny Boy. Although the thought of living with my so-sweet-she-rots-your-teeth new stepmother in the middle of nowhere was not very tempting, I figured that it would be easier fighting off shotgun-carrying rednecks than my stepbrother, who had since developed a habit of torturing me in the most unpredictable ways.

So here I am. Sitting in the backseat of my fathers new 2008 Dodge Grand Caravan, I began to rethink my prior decision. My brother's laughter interrupted my thoughts. "What's so funny?" I demanded, glaring at him.

Benny Brat shrunk back in his seat under my intense glare. "The movie," he said, motioning to the built-in DVD player.

"What's the point of having a freaking DVD player in a vehicle?!" I exclaimed. "What's next? Bathrooms?!"

"Actually," Benny Boy began to say before I cut him off with another disapproving look.

"Shut it," I snapped.

"It's a luxury vehicle, Novalie," Cheryl explained in one of those voices that grade school teachers use when they're talking to first graders.

"I'm not stupid," I said under my breath, then added in a louder voice, "I know that, Cathy--err I mean Cheryl. Who was Cathy again? Oh yeah, Dad's last wife." I watched as Cheryl shifted awkwardly in her seat, and as David stiffened. "Anyway, I know what it is. I just don't see the point in it." I had nothing against Cheryl aside from her overly perky demeanor, but she was the reason that we were moving to, in my opinion, hell on earth. It was my brother this time who gave me a look of disapproval. I ignored him. "What ever happened to Cathy?" I continued.

David sighed. "Novalie..."

"What, Dad? I'm only being curious." I knew it. It really was a mistake to choose David over Renee.

David Caulfield was a good, honest man and a lovable, doting father. But when it came to being a husband, he's about as skilled as a hippo on roller-skates. In the past, David had been married about five times. Cheryl made wife number 6. My mother, Renee, was number one. David always loved his wife. He was one hundred percent faithful. He was everything a wife could ask for in a husband except...he had the habit of ignoring his wife's needs and concentrating on his children. When it came to Benny and me, my father was always overprotective and treated us like we were both still in Pampers. My father, himself, was even a bit childish, with a love for stuffed animals and children's shows. These bad habits were what chased away David's ex-wives.

Before David could say another word about my rudeness, Cheryl exclaimed, "We're here!" David, Benny Boy, and I studied our new town as we passed through Coldwater Creek: Three, no four, gas stations; one public library; one grocery store; a restaurant and a diner; a city hall; a car dealership; a general store; a park complete with a public swimming pool; four churches; two banks; a professional photography business; a nature house; a furniture store; one run-down motel; the oldest movie theatre I've ever seen; a bar; two hairstyle shops and a barbershop; a doctor's office; a hospital; a boarding home; a post office; fairgrounds; five cemeteries; one mortuary; and one public school.

"Where's the McDonalds?" I asked.

"It doesn't have one," Cheryl answered cheerfully.

I felt my jaw hit the floor. "You're kidding, right?" What kind of freaking town doesn't have one freaking McDonalds?!

Answer: Coldwater Creek.

David pulled over at one of the gas stations, and we all stepped out. As my father pumped gas, as Cheryl went inside to use the restroom, and as Benny Boy bought a Milkyway, I looked over the bulletin board inside of the gas station. There were ads and fliers of all sorts. Pink Girl's Bike For Sale. Dog Missing, $100 Dollar Reward Offered For Fido's Safe Return. I turned to the Missing Persons section of the board, which was filled from top to bottom with fliers. Most of the Missing Persons were teenage girls between the ages of 15 and 19. There had to be at least fifty girls missing in the last decade.

"Ran off," someone said behind me.

"Eh?" I asked, turning to face the store clerk.

"I said 'they ran off'." The clerk, a man in his mid-fifties, wiped off his almost-bald scalp with his sleeve. "All of them girls ran off with some big city fellers that passed through here. They ain't missin', they're pregnant. They're off livin' with their boyfriends in some rundown apartment. That's where they are."

I nodded my head only because I wanted the old geezer to shut up. I turned back to the board. One Missing Persons flier caught my eye in particular. In the picture, a young woman in her early twenties was wearing a sundress and carrying a large sunflower. The woman's hair was long, dark, and wavy. She looked like a supermodel. I read the lines below the picture. Missing For Three Years: Evelyn Black. No Reward Is Offered At The Moment. If You Have Any Information Regarding Evelyn's Disappearance, Please Contact The Sheriff At...I stopped reading. "What's her story?" I asked the clerk, jerking my thumb towards the picture of Evelyn Black.

"Why that's Evelyn Black," he said.

The clerk rubbed his stubby chin for a moment, then answered, "Well, no one is sure if she's really missing. All we know is that no one outside of her family has seen her in the past three years. Some people say there was horrible accident that left her disfigured. She's so ugly that she's unrecognizable. Others claim that her whack-job husband murdered her and hid her body in their house. But no one really knows. The only people who might know something are her husband, Leroy Black, and her two sons. I personally think she ran off with some young city feller." I rolled my eyes. This man's theories always came back to one source: City fellers. "If you would see her husband, you'd understand my theory. There ain't no way that some young beauty like her would stay with an older guy like him. Leroy Black ain't bad lookin' or nothin', he's just older. He isn't bad, but he isn't great either." The clerk spit out a glob of tobacco. "In reality, he ain't nothin' but crazy."

"I'd be careful if I were you," the clerk said.

I paused in the doorway. "Why is that?"

"You don't seem like the kind of girl that would fall for any of those slick city fellers. But you might be one of those girls who'd fall for Damon Black."

"Damon Black?" I repeated.

"Yep. He's Leroy and Evelyn's oldest son. He's a mighty fine looker, but he's downright evil. You'll steer clear of him if you know what's good for ya."

"Thanks for the warning," I said, waving as I left.

"I mean it! He's the antichrist!"

If I had turned around back then, I might have seen the dark figure approaching the clerk from behind. I might have been more suspicious the next day when I found out that the gas station clerk went missing. I might have been cautious when they found the clerk's body the following week. After all, where there's one murder, there's bound to be another.
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I formally apologize that chapter 1 is so short. The rest of the chapters should be twice as long as this one.

Anyway, what'd you guys think?

Just to let you know, the town I live in doesn't have a McDonalds either. We have to drive fifteen minutes to nearest town with one to get a Big Mac or to buy something at Walmart. The same thing goes if we want KFC, Pizza Hut, Hardees, Chinese, or Mexican. Even so, I still like my small town. I'll miss it when I move to a bigger townish-city for college. I move out the 22nd of August.

Enough jabbering. Comment! Comment! Comment! And Thank you for reading and commenting. ^-^

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