...that no-one will hear.
No-one comes near...
What does he care?
God, I love the Beatles. I guess that means my life is officially pointless.

The -point- is, I, in a flash of post-dream inspiration, wrote a snippet of the little story I'm working on. It is, in Anne Lammot's amazing mind, a Sh*tty First Draft, so I'm aware of it's flaws. (See how I censor myself for you, deviantART? I'm kind like that.) Anyway:

"He looked, his epiphany taking just a moment, at his coach, at the other secretly-resentful fans and openly-resentful players. And then he stood, which was important, before slowly replacing his cleats with street shoes, which was even more important. But most important of all was what he said, which was really the first thing he'd told anyone in his pointless life..
"I don't like you. You don't like me. You particularly don't like my family. And the fact that I'm only okay at this sport, not the best but not the worst either, gives you an excuse for hating me and me an excuse for staying. So, I'm going to do something good for both of us. I'm going to leave. And I'm going to remind you what spineless little bastards you all are for hiding your hatred behind the flimsy excuse of a badly executed play." His outburst of righteousness stood in stark contrast with the rather sudden contemplation as he looked at Eva, her own eyes conveying mostly mild amusement and even milder success. He shrugged just slightly, his face conveying certainty only in his confusion, and said rather simply, "Well, it's your mission. I don't take any responsibility."


That doesn't make any sense at all, which is a good thing, because I wrote that right after a dream. I figure you should write in order, but this dream fit rather perfectly for what I had planned later in this story, so I woke up and wrote it (leaving out, of course, the fact that the field everyone's standing on is, for some reason, in a dining room). I haven't even really written the Main Event, or... really, anything else. But I have everything planned out, so I have the skeleton of the story.



Backstory!:


His grandmothers are gay. I'm trying to figure that one out and how it would work with him, you know, existing, but I'll figure it out. Ideas?
He goes to this evangelist-type public school, in and evangelist town, in an as-yet unnamed state. He's very Christian.
I plan on it being a really long story, which is why it's taking so long. Sorry.