Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)
The first chapter is here. It's kind of boring, but the character is very bored...so I thought it fit.
Title: Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)
Warning: For the mention or exploration of heavy/controversial themes such as abuse, rape, death, religion, and the afterlife. Read at your own risk. I’m not responsible for contradicting the beliefs of any viewer. This is simply a work of fiction.
Author: swampwitch9666
Rating: R to NC-17…this story will probably get ugly
Summary: What happens when two broken spirits crash into each other?
Disclaimer: I own little to nothing. Obviously, many of the characters themselves are not mine. Much of the storyline itself follows a very archetypal pattern, and I must admit based on the lives of people I know personally. I also must plead exaggeration in the name of fiction, as some things don’t make completely logical sense, so try to bear with me.
A/N: This story is really my attempt to perfect the goal of another story I wrote here called The Endless. I am not trying to copy myself completely, but will probably do that a few times…so sorry if anyone recognizes a strange similarity between this new one and the story I never finished so very long ago.
Prologue: http://community.livejournal.com/__vam/2329323.html#cutid1
Chapter 1: Apathetic Mourning
“Open this door! Come on, Bam. You’re already twenty minutes late. Get up!” The screech of April Margera echoed through the house, arousing everyone but her intended son. She yelled and pounded at the locked wooden door, growing increasingly panicked as no response came from the other side.
“Phil! Get up here, please! He’s not answering. I hope he’s all right.”
“Oh, jesus, Ape. Give him a break, he probably just overslept.” An older, wider figure slowly hobbled up the stairs, his flat expression demonstrating the bland sentiment that drove his wife insane.
Finally reaching the second floor, he gave the expected response, “Come on, Bam! Get out of there. You’re gonna miss your first day of school.”
April chimed in, “Honey, it’s your senior year! Aren’t you excited at all?”
The husband and wife shared a look of confusion with each other. Complete silence swamped the upstairs.
Suddenly there was a loud thump, followed by a muffled, “Ape, I’m up!”
“Okay, well you better hurry! Your first class is already half-way finished!”
“I know…”
“Bam, honey…Open this door!”
“God, I’m coming…” The door swung open to reveal a young man with scruffy curled brown hair and half-lidded blue eyes.
“What happened?”
“Nothing,” the man replied dryly.
“Oh, okay. Well, just get ready and try to make it to your second class.”
“I know…”
~~~
Well, it was already turning out to be a wonderful day. Ape had been so loud in the hall that his face had hit the floor due to her noise. He’d missed the first part of the day…he really wasn’t surprised with himself, just annoyed. He had to get up. ‘Move,’ he silently commanded.
So, now he struggled to throw on some clothes that were clean for the most part, scrub his face and teeth, run a hand through his hair, grab some deodorant, and stuff his feet in shoes. Dressing while half asleep was a far cry from fun. He was at least decent this way, though, not embarrassing on top of being late.
There was really no use hurrying. This day was going to suck just like all the rest before it had, and probably even worse since he was going back to ‘prison’. Senior year. Pfft. There would be nothing new this year, nothing after either. He would just go to college next where even more was expected of him, and he had even less rules to keep him in line. Then he would get a job and be miserable like his parents. He wasn’t fooled anymore by silly thoughts of grandeur. This was how things worked. It didn’t matter what you did, everything ended just the same. You got old, if you were lucky…then you died.
He dragged himself out of his room, down the stairs to the floral-decorated kitchen where Ape and Phil kept their distance from one another, and directly through the front door where the early sun could be found shining on the dewy grass and disrupting everyone’s vision. ‘What a bitch’. He trudged to his car anyway.
~~~
Bam Margera walked through the door to his second class, Film. He was immediately greeted by a frowning middle-aged man.
“Yes?”
“Sorry, I’m late,” he spoke uncomfortably, placing a thin stack of papers in the teacher’s expectant hand. A class of twenty blank faces stared through him. He walked to the back of the class, disheartened that there would be no one here that he even recognized.
Mr. Fiddles, as the schedule Bam held informed, continued with his gloomy lecture.
“Now, where was I? For your first project, and your last, you will be directing your own film. You will work on this throughout the course of the year, as we explore the different elements of film and directing techniques. So, be thinking about this one. It will count for 10% of your final grade!” A chorus of groans floated about the room.
‘Oh, god,’ Bam thought, ‘I’m going to die this year…Just die.’ He wasn’t sure if he would be able to survive through another year of school-directed ‘projects’. He loved film, and he loved his camera, but this just wasn’t the same. What with all the limits and rules he was sure he’d be hearing soon.
The day looked traumatizing as expected. ‘Why can’t Jess be here,’ he thought, wanting to scream, ‘even this stupid project would have me jumping around if he was with me.’ He sighed, exhaling the idea immediately. Best to just forget about that. Everyone else had seemed to; besides they had all done everything they could do.
As Torture Number One of the day ended, he walked through the halls glumly, wondering what he’d missed in first hour…his schedule said Speech class? Holy hell, when had he decided to take speech? This year…oh the dread he sensed. What did he really have to look forward to? American History? And, maybe (only if he were remarkably lucky), Dunn would be there. Where had his miserable summer gone?
The day dragged on, as predicted. Soon it was after third hour, and he still hadn’t seen Dunn, or even Jenna. He was turning a corner, just as one of the most unwelcome surprises spotted him. He braced himself for the oncoming crash.
Comments are addicting. All sorts of comments, it doesn't matter. Criticism is even nice.
Title: Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)
Warning: For the mention or exploration of heavy/controversial themes such as abuse, rape, death, religion, and the afterlife. Read at your own risk. I’m not responsible for contradicting the beliefs of any viewer. This is simply a work of fiction.
Author: swampwitch9666
Rating: R to NC-17…this story will probably get ugly
Summary: What happens when two broken spirits crash into each other?
Disclaimer: I own little to nothing. Obviously, many of the characters themselves are not mine. Much of the storyline itself follows a very archetypal pattern, and I must admit based on the lives of people I know personally. I also must plead exaggeration in the name of fiction, as some things don’t make completely logical sense, so try to bear with me.
A/N: This story is really my attempt to perfect the goal of another story I wrote here called The Endless. I am not trying to copy myself completely, but will probably do that a few times…so sorry if anyone recognizes a strange similarity between this new one and the story I never finished so very long ago.
Prologue: http://community.livejournal.com/__vam/2329323.html#cutid1
Chapter 1: Apathetic Mourning
“Open this door! Come on, Bam. You’re already twenty minutes late. Get up!” The screech of April Margera echoed through the house, arousing everyone but her intended son. She yelled and pounded at the locked wooden door, growing increasingly panicked as no response came from the other side.
“Phil! Get up here, please! He’s not answering. I hope he’s all right.”
“Oh, jesus, Ape. Give him a break, he probably just overslept.” An older, wider figure slowly hobbled up the stairs, his flat expression demonstrating the bland sentiment that drove his wife insane.
Finally reaching the second floor, he gave the expected response, “Come on, Bam! Get out of there. You’re gonna miss your first day of school.”
April chimed in, “Honey, it’s your senior year! Aren’t you excited at all?”
The husband and wife shared a look of confusion with each other. Complete silence swamped the upstairs.
Suddenly there was a loud thump, followed by a muffled, “Ape, I’m up!”
“Okay, well you better hurry! Your first class is already half-way finished!”
“I know…”
“Bam, honey…Open this door!”
“God, I’m coming…” The door swung open to reveal a young man with scruffy curled brown hair and half-lidded blue eyes.
“What happened?”
“Nothing,” the man replied dryly.
“Oh, okay. Well, just get ready and try to make it to your second class.”
“I know…”
~~~
Well, it was already turning out to be a wonderful day. Ape had been so loud in the hall that his face had hit the floor due to her noise. He’d missed the first part of the day…he really wasn’t surprised with himself, just annoyed. He had to get up. ‘Move,’ he silently commanded.
So, now he struggled to throw on some clothes that were clean for the most part, scrub his face and teeth, run a hand through his hair, grab some deodorant, and stuff his feet in shoes. Dressing while half asleep was a far cry from fun. He was at least decent this way, though, not embarrassing on top of being late.
There was really no use hurrying. This day was going to suck just like all the rest before it had, and probably even worse since he was going back to ‘prison’. Senior year. Pfft. There would be nothing new this year, nothing after either. He would just go to college next where even more was expected of him, and he had even less rules to keep him in line. Then he would get a job and be miserable like his parents. He wasn’t fooled anymore by silly thoughts of grandeur. This was how things worked. It didn’t matter what you did, everything ended just the same. You got old, if you were lucky…then you died.
He dragged himself out of his room, down the stairs to the floral-decorated kitchen where Ape and Phil kept their distance from one another, and directly through the front door where the early sun could be found shining on the dewy grass and disrupting everyone’s vision. ‘What a bitch’. He trudged to his car anyway.
~~~
Bam Margera walked through the door to his second class, Film. He was immediately greeted by a frowning middle-aged man.
“Yes?”
“Sorry, I’m late,” he spoke uncomfortably, placing a thin stack of papers in the teacher’s expectant hand. A class of twenty blank faces stared through him. He walked to the back of the class, disheartened that there would be no one here that he even recognized.
Mr. Fiddles, as the schedule Bam held informed, continued with his gloomy lecture.
“Now, where was I? For your first project, and your last, you will be directing your own film. You will work on this throughout the course of the year, as we explore the different elements of film and directing techniques. So, be thinking about this one. It will count for 10% of your final grade!” A chorus of groans floated about the room.
‘Oh, god,’ Bam thought, ‘I’m going to die this year…Just die.’ He wasn’t sure if he would be able to survive through another year of school-directed ‘projects’. He loved film, and he loved his camera, but this just wasn’t the same. What with all the limits and rules he was sure he’d be hearing soon.
The day looked traumatizing as expected. ‘Why can’t Jess be here,’ he thought, wanting to scream, ‘even this stupid project would have me jumping around if he was with me.’ He sighed, exhaling the idea immediately. Best to just forget about that. Everyone else had seemed to; besides they had all done everything they could do.
As Torture Number One of the day ended, he walked through the halls glumly, wondering what he’d missed in first hour…his schedule said Speech class? Holy hell, when had he decided to take speech? This year…oh the dread he sensed. What did he really have to look forward to? American History? And, maybe (only if he were remarkably lucky), Dunn would be there. Where had his miserable summer gone?
The day dragged on, as predicted. Soon it was after third hour, and he still hadn’t seen Dunn, or even Jenna. He was turning a corner, just as one of the most unwelcome surprises spotted him. He braced himself for the oncoming crash.
Comments are addicting. All sorts of comments, it doesn't matter. Criticism is even nice.