Creative Writing

[Cheebs]

It would be rad if you made this a movie... It's the latest thing I wrote:

Little Jimmothey Norrington had a pet hamster. He named the hamster Freckles. Jimmothey loved Freckles. He would clean Freckles' cage with new cedar chips and give Freckles those brownish-gray food pellets that hamsters seem to love eating. He would take Freckles out of the cage and let the little guy run around. Freckles would always run up Jimmothey's arm and give him hamster kisses on the nose.

It was freakin' adorable.

Then one night a terrible storm came through Jimmothey's neighborhood. Freckles cowered in fear from the bright lightning and the booming thunder. He sought the only shelter he could find: His excersise wheel.

Tuns out hamsters suck at physics. The lighting came though the house window and instantly sought the metal wheel where Freckles huddled in a shivering ball of fur.

Freckles let out a terrible "ERGAWEEEEPTHBBBWHAEETTT!". Then all fell silent.

The next morning little Jimmothey Norrington came downstairs for school. He turned to see Freckles standing in his cage. On his two back feet. Motionless. Pressed up against the glass. Staring at Jimmothey with a piercing gaze.

"Mommmmm! Freckles is acting weird!" shouted Jimmothey to his mother.

"No he isn't, honey" replied the matriarch in question.

Jimmothey looked back at the cage. Freckles continued to stare right through Jimmothey's soul. Cold. Unmoving. Not of this plane of existence.

With a shudder, Jimmothey left for school.

Later that afternoon, Jimmothey returned home to be greeted by the same stone-faced stare Freckles gave him earlier that morning. It was time for Jimmothey to intervene. Maybe the little guy just needs some excersise...

Jimmothey removed Freckles from his cage. But Freckles did not run and frollick and climb Jimmothey's torso to give him a hamster kiss on the nose. No. Freckles proceeded to march forward. Plodding. Steady. Rhythmic. Slow. Inch by inch, Freckles climbed Jimmothey's arm. When he reached the shoulder, Freckles stopped. And stood up. On his back feet. Motionless. And stared into Jimmothey's soul.

"Whaaaaaa Mommmmmm!!" shouted Jimmothey as he quickly placed Freckles back in his cage. "Freckles is acting really, really weird!".

"I told you he isn't" she replied.

Jimmothey shuddered and tried to watch TV. But even as he turned away to face the TV, Jimmothey could feel Freckles. Standing. Motionless. Pressed against the glass. Staring.

It was too much to bear. Jimmothey grabbed a blanket and covered the cage. For a brief moment, Jimmothey felt the gaze dissapear. Freckles' strangle-hold on his soul was broken. Out of sight, out of mind.

Then it started. Slowly.

"Squeeka squeeka squeeka".

It was the excersise wheel. From under the cage cover came the sound of Freckles turning the metal wheel. It grew faster. And faster. And faster. Before Jimmothey knew it, the sound was almost like a power drill. It was even more maddening than the stare.

"Mommmmmmmm!! Freckles is definately really, really weird today!" Shouted Jimmothey.

"Hamsters aren't weird, honey" replied the confident maternal voice.

As the wheel grew faster and louder, all Jimmothey could do was hide in the hallway closet and put his hands over his ears. But it did no good. For the wheel was far too loud by now. It's speed far too great. And it's tone far too high-pitched.

Jimmothey began to scream at the top of his lungs. Even if that would have drown out the maddening wheel noise, the smell of smoke was now inescapable as the wheel bearings glowed red-hot.

Then, it all stopped. Dead silent.

Jimmothey was shaking. Sobbing. Clinging to his sanity. Slowly, meekly, Jimmothey uncovered his ears. Fear beating in his heart and adrenaline shooting through his veins he opened the closet door and peeked out.

The cover was removed from Freckles' cage. And there stood Freckles. On his back legs. Pressed up against the glass. Motionless. Staring into Jimmothey's soul.

The last strand of Jimmothey's resolve gave way and he turned running, screaming down the stairs into the basement. Behind him in the living room where the hamster cage stood, Jimmothey heard the sound of breaking glass followed by what must have been a tiger jumping to the floor.

Jimmothey didn't look back. Jimmothey couldn't look back. Jimmothey just ran.

Whatever was following him into the basement sounded like it had the size of a bear and the speed of a lion. Jimmothey ran to the washer and drier. He swung the drier door open and hid beside the machine, using the open door as a shield.

Suddenly, Jimmothey's pursuer slammed into the drier. The whole machine lurched back and struck the basement wall with a deafening crack. Plaster rained down.

For a moment, Jimmothey's faculties returned to him. Thinking quickly, he slammed the drier door shut.

"I got you, Freckles! I got you! Ah, ha ha ha ha!"

And it seemed that he did. Standing in front of the drier, all was motionless. All was calm. The beast was captured.

Then, slowly, rhythmically, deliberately, the tumbling drum inside of the drier started to rotate. Like a giant hamster wheel.

"Vwooba, vwooba, vwooba"

The rotations began to grow in speed and intensity.

"No" Jimmothey shook his head "No...It...It isn't fair".

"Vweeeeeeeeee!!!!"

The washing machine was now screaming. Rocking back and forth. Smoking. Plaster continued to rain.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!" Screamed Jimmothey as he once again turned and ran, all traces of sanity and civilization draining from his body.

Up the stairs and out of the house.

Behind him, Jimmothey hear a thunderous crash as the drier gave way. The ground thundered as the beast hurtled forward. Bigger than a rhino. Faster than a gazelle.

Jimmothey did not turn and look. Jimmothey could not turn and look.

As Jimmothey reached the garden shed, he dove inside and slammed the door shut. Instantly, a powerful force slammed the door. The entire structure shook. Shovels fell and riding mowers shifted. Again the door was assaulted. Again a thunderous aftershock.

Then, nothing.

Jimmothey cowered behind the door. Breath short. Tears streaming down his face. Cold sweat covering his body.

He waited one minute. Two minutes. Twenty minutes. Three hours. Or was it 14 seconds? The fear gripped Jimmothey so fiercely that it was hard to say exactly...

Then Jimmothey slowly opened the door.

And there. In the yard. Standing. On his back legs. Two feet from the door entrance. Was Freckles. Staring.

[B-Ri]

sorry for being so late in my reply.

Its good but i dont have time to deal with children.

Any other ideas? anyone else got anything else? This is due... the 14th of december, and i got 5 more finals, 4 art projects, and a 21st birthday all between now and then so i gotta shoot this VERY soon.

[Razor Ramon]

I tried talking to you on AIM about this but you never got back to me. Meh.

[B-Ri]

ive tried messaging you back but i guess your job = you busy since youre never online

[Razor Ramon]

I lost internet at my home lol. It's more broke than the job because this freelance gig is slow as fuck with any assignments.

[Scourge]

What's really fucked up is I had started something, then stopped when Razor said he could probably help out.

[B-Ri]

D= i think im going to be shooting this next friday and saturday (really pushing it here) so anything you can toss my direction this week would be awesome guys. PM, AIM, facebook (youve done it already razor), any way of contact is cool.

[Razor Ramon]

I'll try to hammer out something by Friday.

[B-Ri]

yes plz, dont fail me <3<3

[MarsKitten]

2nded: Steven King's On Writing.