Nothing severe for my first post, just something I have already posted somewhere else. Of course, it would make more sense if I posted the character sheet first, but since when have I ever done things in the right way? This snippet is about a young boy named Kross, I wrote it on a whim one day, trying to get a feel as to why my playboy character had turned out the way that he did. I'm figuring this is the first part in a set of small snippets. We shall see. Pax~
Shaggy blond hair hung into his narrow face, his teeth worried his chapped lower lip till it bled. He stood behind her with a bunch of dandelions and a battered copy of Grimm’s Fairy Tales. His soft green eyes were nervous and a blush covered his normally arrogant face. He shifted awkwardly from foot to foot as he looked away from her. He never thought that it would be so hard for him to ask a girl to be his girlfriend. “It’s hard being ten…” He whispered to himself. He didn’t want to draw attention to himself, not yet.
“Clarice…? That freak is standing behind you…”
The tip of his ears turned red and he lowered his head. To all of his classmates, he was considered a freak. At ten years old, he was too tall, all arm and leg. He tripped over his own two feet and more often than not, he was a nuisance. He was considered their class’ troublemaker, his clothes were patched and threadbare, nothing about him was right. “Clarice?” He whispered finally before he tapped her on the shoulder.
She kept her back to him, her long black hair falling richly down her violet cashmere sweater. She laughed at one of her friend’s jokes and turned her head slightly, just enough to prove that her friends were telling the truth. She smirked and turned back to her friends and continued talking, this time a bit louder.
He stopped fidgeting and squared his shoulders. A wise man would back down, tuck his tail between his legs and slink off, but he was no wise man. “Clarice?” He tried again, this time he slid around her and presented himself in front of her. “H-hi. I’m in your class and-“
“Duh.” She cut in smoothly and tossed her hair over one shoulder with a flick of her wrist, copying what the older girls on the playground did. “You’re Kross or something right?”
His eyes lit up when he heard that she knew his name. “You know me?” He said happily before he cleared his throat. “I mean, yeah…that’s me. I just wanted to say: Happy Birthday and…well…I know that you like fairy tales-”
“Creepy.” One boy muttered, glaring at Kross for daring to interrupt their conversation.
“Stalker.” One girl agreed, playing off of one anothers dislike for the boy.
He held out the flowers and the book. “I couldn’t get any wrapping paper…”
“Because your parents were too poor.” One of Clarice’s friends jeered at him.
“He doesn’t have any parents!” Another one chimed in and laughed as though she had made the best joke.
Kross’ face paled, the blood draining from his face, his hands shook as he continued to hold the book and the flowers out to her. “Clarice…” He half pleaded. “Here, Happy Birthday.” He repeated.
The dark haired girl finally reached out and took the book and the flowers. She pretended to look over the gift before she handed it over for her friends to look over. “That’s really sweet of you.” Her voice had gone sweet, but her eyes were devilish, full with a child’s desire to hurt. “But I have a better copy of this book at home; my daddy bought it for me. I don’t want another one.”
The boy nodded, he felt the Earth tilt, as if it was going to unbalance him and throw him onto the ground. A bead of sweat trickled down the side of his face and his hands went clammy. “But now you can have two, in case you lose the one that your father got you…”
Clarice snorted and rolled her eyes. “Do you really think that I’d lose my father’s book and then use yours instead? I’d as him to buy me another book, and he would because he loves me, something my momma says that your parents don’t because they left you.”
“They did not!” Kross protested suddenly, his voice cracking with the uncertainty of his own words. He stepped back and looked around, trying to find a place where he could escape to. “My parents didn’t leave me, they just…” He couldn’t tell the others where his parents had gone. They got lost trying to find me? He thought to himself. They had to go and save the world, they were going to come back but they got lost. They never would have left me here.
The book flew the air and caught him hard in the shoulder, causing his eyes to fill with tears that were from more than just pain. He raised his arm to his shoulder and held where the book had hit him. He looked around the assembled group and saw one of the boys looking at him defiantly. He looked back at Clarice. “Tell them to leave me alone.” He said, trying to sound like the attack hadn’t hurt him, but his voice wavered, the tears threatened to fall, and he barely held on.
“He thinks that he can be your Prince Charming! Hey Prince Charming, where’s your white horse?” The boy that threw the book yelled out, stepping up to stand next to Clarice. “Go on Clarice, you should kiss him.” The tides turned dangerously on the girl as the boy shoved her towards Kross. “That’s how all fairy tales end.”
Her face flamed in anger and she balled her fists tight against her sides, her blue eyes narrowed, her lip curled in disgust and she stomped her foot. “I’d never kiss him! He’s disgusting! Just look at him!” She yelled. Her heel dug into the ground, leaving a small divot as she stepped back into the safety of her group.
He winced at her words and bent down to pick up the book, he lifted his shirt up and tried to wipe away all of the dirt and fix the cover. He held the book close to his chest as he looked up at Clarice with a broken expression in his eyes.
Clarice faltered when she saw the state that she brought to boy to, but there was more laughter behind her, egging her on. “You’re no Prince Charming…and no matter how many times someone kisses you, you’re always just going to be an ugly frog.”
That was the final straw; a sob broke through the boy’s lips. He turned away from the group of the children. He heard the laughter and he started to walk, the teacher called out for him, and he started to jog. When he heard the warning whistle, he started to run, and when he reached the edge of the playground, he ran faster. He didn’t stop there, he ran until he was on the sidewalk, across the streets. He ran till the pain spiked in his side and beyond it, he ran until the tears blinded him, till he tore into his house and up the stairs to the room that he and his twin brother shared. With an angry yell, he threw the book against the wall and fell onto the bed, starting to cry.
On the floor lay the discarded Fairy Tale book, it had fallen onto its back and the front cover was open, exposing the inside. Underneath a smear of dirt from the playground were the words:
To my Prince Charming on his first Birthday, love forever, Momma.
“Clarice…? That freak is standing behind you…”
The tip of his ears turned red and he lowered his head. To all of his classmates, he was considered a freak. At ten years old, he was too tall, all arm and leg. He tripped over his own two feet and more often than not, he was a nuisance. He was considered their class’ troublemaker, his clothes were patched and threadbare, nothing about him was right. “Clarice?” He whispered finally before he tapped her on the shoulder.
She kept her back to him, her long black hair falling richly down her violet cashmere sweater. She laughed at one of her friend’s jokes and turned her head slightly, just enough to prove that her friends were telling the truth. She smirked and turned back to her friends and continued talking, this time a bit louder.
He stopped fidgeting and squared his shoulders. A wise man would back down, tuck his tail between his legs and slink off, but he was no wise man. “Clarice?” He tried again, this time he slid around her and presented himself in front of her. “H-hi. I’m in your class and-“
“Duh.” She cut in smoothly and tossed her hair over one shoulder with a flick of her wrist, copying what the older girls on the playground did. “You’re Kross or something right?”
His eyes lit up when he heard that she knew his name. “You know me?” He said happily before he cleared his throat. “I mean, yeah…that’s me. I just wanted to say: Happy Birthday and…well…I know that you like fairy tales-”
“Creepy.” One boy muttered, glaring at Kross for daring to interrupt their conversation.
“Stalker.” One girl agreed, playing off of one anothers dislike for the boy.
He held out the flowers and the book. “I couldn’t get any wrapping paper…”
“Because your parents were too poor.” One of Clarice’s friends jeered at him.
“He doesn’t have any parents!” Another one chimed in and laughed as though she had made the best joke.
Kross’ face paled, the blood draining from his face, his hands shook as he continued to hold the book and the flowers out to her. “Clarice…” He half pleaded. “Here, Happy Birthday.” He repeated.
The dark haired girl finally reached out and took the book and the flowers. She pretended to look over the gift before she handed it over for her friends to look over. “That’s really sweet of you.” Her voice had gone sweet, but her eyes were devilish, full with a child’s desire to hurt. “But I have a better copy of this book at home; my daddy bought it for me. I don’t want another one.”
The boy nodded, he felt the Earth tilt, as if it was going to unbalance him and throw him onto the ground. A bead of sweat trickled down the side of his face and his hands went clammy. “But now you can have two, in case you lose the one that your father got you…”
Clarice snorted and rolled her eyes. “Do you really think that I’d lose my father’s book and then use yours instead? I’d as him to buy me another book, and he would because he loves me, something my momma says that your parents don’t because they left you.”
“They did not!” Kross protested suddenly, his voice cracking with the uncertainty of his own words. He stepped back and looked around, trying to find a place where he could escape to. “My parents didn’t leave me, they just…” He couldn’t tell the others where his parents had gone. They got lost trying to find me? He thought to himself. They had to go and save the world, they were going to come back but they got lost. They never would have left me here.
The book flew the air and caught him hard in the shoulder, causing his eyes to fill with tears that were from more than just pain. He raised his arm to his shoulder and held where the book had hit him. He looked around the assembled group and saw one of the boys looking at him defiantly. He looked back at Clarice. “Tell them to leave me alone.” He said, trying to sound like the attack hadn’t hurt him, but his voice wavered, the tears threatened to fall, and he barely held on.
“He thinks that he can be your Prince Charming! Hey Prince Charming, where’s your white horse?” The boy that threw the book yelled out, stepping up to stand next to Clarice. “Go on Clarice, you should kiss him.” The tides turned dangerously on the girl as the boy shoved her towards Kross. “That’s how all fairy tales end.”
Her face flamed in anger and she balled her fists tight against her sides, her blue eyes narrowed, her lip curled in disgust and she stomped her foot. “I’d never kiss him! He’s disgusting! Just look at him!” She yelled. Her heel dug into the ground, leaving a small divot as she stepped back into the safety of her group.
He winced at her words and bent down to pick up the book, he lifted his shirt up and tried to wipe away all of the dirt and fix the cover. He held the book close to his chest as he looked up at Clarice with a broken expression in his eyes.
Clarice faltered when she saw the state that she brought to boy to, but there was more laughter behind her, egging her on. “You’re no Prince Charming…and no matter how many times someone kisses you, you’re always just going to be an ugly frog.”
That was the final straw; a sob broke through the boy’s lips. He turned away from the group of the children. He heard the laughter and he started to walk, the teacher called out for him, and he started to jog. When he heard the warning whistle, he started to run, and when he reached the edge of the playground, he ran faster. He didn’t stop there, he ran until he was on the sidewalk, across the streets. He ran till the pain spiked in his side and beyond it, he ran until the tears blinded him, till he tore into his house and up the stairs to the room that he and his twin brother shared. With an angry yell, he threw the book against the wall and fell onto the bed, starting to cry.
On the floor lay the discarded Fairy Tale book, it had fallen onto its back and the front cover was open, exposing the inside. Underneath a smear of dirt from the playground were the words:
To my Prince Charming on his first Birthday, love forever, Momma.
