Status: This is a story I am doing for NanoWrimo so it will be hopefully 50,000 words
Is this a Dream or Reality?
Chapter 3
Ian was free of all high school classes that day, it was a Saturday. He was most definitely not ditching and most certainly not suspended. Expulsion was not even in his vocabulary. He was not the kind of person to find himself involved in fights. He might have been if it were not for his grandmother. His grandma, or Nana as Ian refers to her, raised him from infancy. His mother had died in child birth and his father is unknown. It never bothered Ian though. He loved his Nana. She was his mother and grandmother all in one and she had raised him to respect women, people in general, but mainly women, quite opposite of his father.
What Ian did not know was that his biological father, Steve, was a drunken bastard who loved to go around and torment people in a, well, drunken rage. His mother, Ivana, was one of Steve’s many girlfriends. Steve beat Ivana whenever he was drunk, so basically every day, until he was done. Ivana swore that he didn’t mean it, she claimed it was all the alcohol’s fault and that Steve had promised her he would quit. What she didn’t realize, the simple minded, trusting person that she unfortunately was, was that Steve was a horrid person, rotten to the core, like an apple. And as soon as he found out the news that Ivana was pregnant with Ian, he was gone, never to be heard of again. Up until the very end, Ivana loved the retched man.
Nana had named Ian after his mother in an attempt to keep her memory alive within him. As she raised him, she taught the boy that respect and care were the most important traits but she also cautioned him of the evils in the world like Steve. Now, at 17 years of age, almost 18, he was the spitting image of the perfect gentleman. From his visual appearance with his dark brown hair, hazel eyes, and muscular enough build, to the way he dressed clean cut but modern, to the way he treated living things from people and animals and flowers, Ian was the as perfect as perfect can possibly be man. He strives to protect the virtue of women and uphold the integrity of men. In the sports he played he was always named captain and his lyric were smooth and clean, singing of an idealistic world that he felt only he could see. He hoped, however, that through this music, he would be able to convey that and, while he may not have realized it, Ian already had an enormous fan base.
Like on all days he had off, Ian awoke around 8 to the smell of bacon wafting into his room from the kitchen. Before managing to climb out of bed, he was already picturing the mountain of eggs, toast, potatoes, and bacon that his precious Nana had prepared for herself and Ian. He stretched, put a shirt over his somewhat sculpted body ( no six-pack yet for this boy), and left his abnormally clean room for a 17, almost 18, year old. Then again, Ian didn’t have much more than his guitar, computer, and clothes.
“Mornin’ Nana. And how are you this morning,” Ian asked with a smile as his grandmother plated their breakfast.
“Oh fine. Just fine. You are just in time to eat. I was a little worried that you weren’t going to wake up this morning,” the old woman cackled.
Ian glided over and grabbed the plates from his guardian but not before placing a kiss on her wrinkled-with-wisdom forehead. “I’ll grab those for you.”
“Thank you son. That’s very nice of you,” Nana cracked a smile. As she hobbled over to the chair, Ian placed the food on their small table, big enough for just the two of them, and held open her chair for her. Slowly, the old one eased herself down, joints popping here and there.
Ian moved to refrigerator and questioned looking over his shoulder, “What would you like to drink Nana?”
“Oh, some milk would be nice. You know, got to keep these bones as healthy as possible with my age and all.” The woman was a pleasant enough person and easy enough to get along with.
As Ian pored the glass of her request for Nana, the wrinkled woman asked, “And what would your plans be today my dear?”
“I wanted to go out to the park and practice my guitar. Is that okay with you? You didn’t need me to help you with anything now do you?” Ian finally took his seat.
“Oh now you aren’t giving me enough credit. I’m not old enough to not be able to cart myself around the neighborhood,” the woman attempted slyly. Ian was not fooled.
“Just remember what the doctor said. No driving. Your motor skills are just not what they used to be.” He stated before shoveling a large bite of potatoes and eggs into his mouth.
“Oh pish-posh. That doctor doesn’t know what he is saying. I am perfectly fit to drive. All I need is my glasses and I am good to go.”
“Now Nana. That’s not how things work. If you are going to go anywhere, I don’t want you driving. Let me know if you need a ride somewhere and I will come and pick you up.” He shoved another forkful of food into his rather large mouth.
“Fine. But I’m not going to call you for a ride. You know how I hate depending on other people for a ride.”
“Yes I do Nana,” Ian chuckled. After a few more mouthfuls of food, he kissed his grandmother goodbye, grabbed his guitar, and was out the door, headed for the park.
Ian’s most precious possession was his guitar. It was how he planned on making a living. He hoped that maybe, just maybe, a scout might catch him playing the very instrument he was currently carrying in the park, singing his song to whoever cared to listen, that the scout would like his music, his look, his presence, and offer a contract to Ian with his company. The chances of that happening though were slim to none. Still, Ian had his dream and if he would not be found in the park, he was going to make it in auditions and competitions.
His thirst for knowledge is another drive of his. Ian had a strong desire to get into the college of his choice and so he worked extremely hard in school, not wanting to disappoint himself or his grandmother. Now, a senior, he has been offered a full ride scholarship to UCLA on merit of both his grades as well as his achievements and level of play in soccer. In other words, Ian’s future was looking pretty good.
He played his guitar in the park for several hours, entertaining mothers, children, dog-lovers, joggers, music enthusiasts, and plenty of women. Some girls dragged their boyfriends along to hear him play his music and sing his songs. The men were not all too happy about that. A few of the other women that passed asked for his number which he refused saying, “It would be impossible for me to have a relationship with one woman seeing as I am so involved in my music and not fair to you to have a relationship with more than one woman at a time. I’m sorry.”
Ian used this quite a bit and it worked for him. Probably because his smile at the end dazed them into believing his words. However, he was not really looking for a relationship at that moment as he believed it would only complicate his life further. He must respect women, but that did not mean he had to become involved with them.
Before Ian knew it, the crowds had left and he was all alone. Even the sun was leaving him, going to look at another part of the world and allow the moon a chance to gaze upon this evening. He was worried, after looking at his watch and it reading 9:42 p.m., about his Nana. Quickly, he packed his guitar away snugly into its case and began his journey home.
Ian passed by a man near the oriental bridge in the park on the way home. He seemed to be in a trance of some sort, like his body was moving on its own. It scared Ian a little for the man as he thought what could be wrong with the man. He considered stopping and asking how he was doing but it was already late and Ian really did need to get home.
Then something came over him. Something was calling to him, whispering to him, asking for his help. He looked around but could find nothing. He ignored it, thinking maybe he was just tired but the whisper persisted until it was no longer a whisper. Ian passed a tree that caught his eye. It was strange for its leaves were green despite the fact it was almost winter and most of the trees had lost their leaves in the area. He stopped and then walked back to, admire it? No, to simply look at it.
The last thing that Ian remembered before things went black was all of the leaves suddenly falling to the ground. He remembers that as they fell in a blanket over him at an unnatural speed, he felt as though he was being swallowed up by something. Then, blackness.
What Ian did not know was that his biological father, Steve, was a drunken bastard who loved to go around and torment people in a, well, drunken rage. His mother, Ivana, was one of Steve’s many girlfriends. Steve beat Ivana whenever he was drunk, so basically every day, until he was done. Ivana swore that he didn’t mean it, she claimed it was all the alcohol’s fault and that Steve had promised her he would quit. What she didn’t realize, the simple minded, trusting person that she unfortunately was, was that Steve was a horrid person, rotten to the core, like an apple. And as soon as he found out the news that Ivana was pregnant with Ian, he was gone, never to be heard of again. Up until the very end, Ivana loved the retched man.
Nana had named Ian after his mother in an attempt to keep her memory alive within him. As she raised him, she taught the boy that respect and care were the most important traits but she also cautioned him of the evils in the world like Steve. Now, at 17 years of age, almost 18, he was the spitting image of the perfect gentleman. From his visual appearance with his dark brown hair, hazel eyes, and muscular enough build, to the way he dressed clean cut but modern, to the way he treated living things from people and animals and flowers, Ian was the as perfect as perfect can possibly be man. He strives to protect the virtue of women and uphold the integrity of men. In the sports he played he was always named captain and his lyric were smooth and clean, singing of an idealistic world that he felt only he could see. He hoped, however, that through this music, he would be able to convey that and, while he may not have realized it, Ian already had an enormous fan base.
Like on all days he had off, Ian awoke around 8 to the smell of bacon wafting into his room from the kitchen. Before managing to climb out of bed, he was already picturing the mountain of eggs, toast, potatoes, and bacon that his precious Nana had prepared for herself and Ian. He stretched, put a shirt over his somewhat sculpted body ( no six-pack yet for this boy), and left his abnormally clean room for a 17, almost 18, year old. Then again, Ian didn’t have much more than his guitar, computer, and clothes.
“Mornin’ Nana. And how are you this morning,” Ian asked with a smile as his grandmother plated their breakfast.
“Oh fine. Just fine. You are just in time to eat. I was a little worried that you weren’t going to wake up this morning,” the old woman cackled.
Ian glided over and grabbed the plates from his guardian but not before placing a kiss on her wrinkled-with-wisdom forehead. “I’ll grab those for you.”
“Thank you son. That’s very nice of you,” Nana cracked a smile. As she hobbled over to the chair, Ian placed the food on their small table, big enough for just the two of them, and held open her chair for her. Slowly, the old one eased herself down, joints popping here and there.
Ian moved to refrigerator and questioned looking over his shoulder, “What would you like to drink Nana?”
“Oh, some milk would be nice. You know, got to keep these bones as healthy as possible with my age and all.” The woman was a pleasant enough person and easy enough to get along with.
As Ian pored the glass of her request for Nana, the wrinkled woman asked, “And what would your plans be today my dear?”
“I wanted to go out to the park and practice my guitar. Is that okay with you? You didn’t need me to help you with anything now do you?” Ian finally took his seat.
“Oh now you aren’t giving me enough credit. I’m not old enough to not be able to cart myself around the neighborhood,” the woman attempted slyly. Ian was not fooled.
“Just remember what the doctor said. No driving. Your motor skills are just not what they used to be.” He stated before shoveling a large bite of potatoes and eggs into his mouth.
“Oh pish-posh. That doctor doesn’t know what he is saying. I am perfectly fit to drive. All I need is my glasses and I am good to go.”
“Now Nana. That’s not how things work. If you are going to go anywhere, I don’t want you driving. Let me know if you need a ride somewhere and I will come and pick you up.” He shoved another forkful of food into his rather large mouth.
“Fine. But I’m not going to call you for a ride. You know how I hate depending on other people for a ride.”
“Yes I do Nana,” Ian chuckled. After a few more mouthfuls of food, he kissed his grandmother goodbye, grabbed his guitar, and was out the door, headed for the park.
Ian’s most precious possession was his guitar. It was how he planned on making a living. He hoped that maybe, just maybe, a scout might catch him playing the very instrument he was currently carrying in the park, singing his song to whoever cared to listen, that the scout would like his music, his look, his presence, and offer a contract to Ian with his company. The chances of that happening though were slim to none. Still, Ian had his dream and if he would not be found in the park, he was going to make it in auditions and competitions.
His thirst for knowledge is another drive of his. Ian had a strong desire to get into the college of his choice and so he worked extremely hard in school, not wanting to disappoint himself or his grandmother. Now, a senior, he has been offered a full ride scholarship to UCLA on merit of both his grades as well as his achievements and level of play in soccer. In other words, Ian’s future was looking pretty good.
He played his guitar in the park for several hours, entertaining mothers, children, dog-lovers, joggers, music enthusiasts, and plenty of women. Some girls dragged their boyfriends along to hear him play his music and sing his songs. The men were not all too happy about that. A few of the other women that passed asked for his number which he refused saying, “It would be impossible for me to have a relationship with one woman seeing as I am so involved in my music and not fair to you to have a relationship with more than one woman at a time. I’m sorry.”
Ian used this quite a bit and it worked for him. Probably because his smile at the end dazed them into believing his words. However, he was not really looking for a relationship at that moment as he believed it would only complicate his life further. He must respect women, but that did not mean he had to become involved with them.
Before Ian knew it, the crowds had left and he was all alone. Even the sun was leaving him, going to look at another part of the world and allow the moon a chance to gaze upon this evening. He was worried, after looking at his watch and it reading 9:42 p.m., about his Nana. Quickly, he packed his guitar away snugly into its case and began his journey home.
Ian passed by a man near the oriental bridge in the park on the way home. He seemed to be in a trance of some sort, like his body was moving on its own. It scared Ian a little for the man as he thought what could be wrong with the man. He considered stopping and asking how he was doing but it was already late and Ian really did need to get home.
Then something came over him. Something was calling to him, whispering to him, asking for his help. He looked around but could find nothing. He ignored it, thinking maybe he was just tired but the whisper persisted until it was no longer a whisper. Ian passed a tree that caught his eye. It was strange for its leaves were green despite the fact it was almost winter and most of the trees had lost their leaves in the area. He stopped and then walked back to, admire it? No, to simply look at it.
The last thing that Ian remembered before things went black was all of the leaves suddenly falling to the ground. He remembers that as they fell in a blanket over him at an unnatural speed, he felt as though he was being swallowed up by something. Then, blackness.