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"My First Bully"

It seems like yesterday.
I was seven years old, wandering around in a vacant lot, as usual, trying to catch bugs and insects. Suddenly, I caught a glimpse of something, a snake! I leaped at the snake and grabbed it. It wriggled a lot, but I had my thumb and forefinger positioned on his head. I held it up and admired it.
“Bet you don’t know how to hypnotize it!” A voice said behind me.
I jerked around to se a spike-haired boy with beady blue eyes wearing jeans, standing on a tree stump, chewing gum.
“You’ve gotta rub the top of his head, and it’ll go to sleep, try it!” the kid said.
It sounded risky, but he was older and probably knew more. So, slowly I began stroking the snake’s head, and, sure enough, it calmed down.
“Now you can let go of his head,” the kid said.
“But he’ll bite me,” I replied.
“He’s hypnotized!”
I studied the snake, then grabbed it by the tail and let go of its head. The snake sprung up, and bit me on the wrist. I yelled and through it to the ground, and it slithered away.
“You didn’t hypnotize it right,” the kid said, yawning.
And that’s how I met my new friend.
The kid’s name was Franky Miller, and he’d just moved from Portland to London. He had a big black dog, named Wolf and was the only kid who could actually hit things with his slingshot. During the three months he spent in the neighborhood, I never saw Franky’s parents.
I was both enthralled and scared of Franky, he had a great scowl on his face most of the time, and looked rather dull.
One afternoon, he came over to you house and walked in, uninvited, and snatched a book I was reading about caves from me. He flicked through it, and then told me that he’d been in a cave, with albino fish and warm water and gold! Of course, this was all made up, but I was only seven, and I wanted it to be true so much.
“Let’s go there!” I pleaded.
“NO! It’s a secret!” He replied.
“Please?”
“If you past my little test…”
“What test?”
“You’ll see.”
So for the next few weeks, I waited impatiently, mulling over the details of Franky’s cave. I thought it was a little far-fetched, but I wanted it to be true so much, I managed to convince myself it was true.
Finally, the day came when he said it was time for the test. He took me to his house, drank a couple of glasses of drinks, wiped his mouth and said, “Time for the test.”


Franky led me out to his garage and into his garden. It had nothing but grass and a swing.
“Wow!” I said. “Cool swing.”
“This is your test,” he said, “get on the swing.”
I sat down, and Franky began to twirl me around slowly. I began to get a little nervous. He kept on going, and suddenly I felt scared.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Yep.” I replied.
“Then so long, sucker!”
Everything was suddenly a tremendous blur, I couldn’t see anything and screamed for help. There were shouts and I could just make out three figured.
Who was behind Franky?
Then I realized, his brothers.
I started feeling sick, and then I vomited. Lots and lots of vomit, the swing came to a halt, and I fell to the ground. I was no longer moving, but the work kept spinning. A few minutes later, I struggled to my feet, I was alone.
Two days later, he explained to me that I was unconscious for a period of time, and the people laughing were my dreams. I believed him, because I was still interested about the cave.
A day later, he told him to follow him. I followed him until I got to Mrs. Gates house. She was a kid woman I did work for.
“What are we doing here?” I asked.
“Sssh! Follow me.” He whispered.
He led me into Mrs. Gates garden and picked up some ceramic dogs. These were Mrs. Gates most precious items.
“Treasure!” he said.
“Don’t steal them…” I was to nervous to speak properly.
Suddenly, he heard Mrs. Gates door open.
“RUN!” He shouted. He ran and ran and ran, until he got to a park. We hid behind a large pine tree.
“We’ve got to destroy the evidence!” He told me. He picked up a huge rock, and smashed them down onto the dogs.
And that’s when it hit me: Franky was nuts.
The next day, on the crowded city-bus to school, the bus driver hit the brakes a little to hard, and a girl bumped into me.
“You gonna let a girl bump into you!?” Franky questioned.
“An accident.” I replied.
“SHOVE HER BACK!”
I stood there for a moment, and then gave the girl a little shove. She didn’t seem to mind.
“No-one touches a girl!” And without warning, he pushed me down the ground.

I was in the principals office with Franky. I didn’t understand why Franky was being so mean to me. I didn’t tell the principal anything, and just kept quiet. After a few odd and tense minutes, he let us go.
I started hating Franky’s guts.
That was the end of my relationship with Franky.
I managed to avoid him for a couple of months. Then, he and his family decided to move to Alaska.
With Franky gone, I felt free and happy. Well… a little.
I still felt ashamed about Mrs. Gates ceramic dogs and I wanted to apologize, but my guilt prevented me from confessing. I did go back to the park to bury the ceramic dog pieces, but they were gone. I got a pocket knife and tried to cut the rope on that creepy swing, but the blade was to dull to cut through, and finally I gave up.
And I still think about the secret cave with the gold and albino fish sometimes.
THE END

Shanty Claws wrote:
> Cool Boy wrote:
> Road Dahl...Boy...hmmm
> Good book too, along with "Going solo".

Hmm..I'm not sure is this is praise...

Cool Boy wrote:
> Road Dahl...Boy...hmmm
Good book too, along with "Going solo".

Shanty Claws wrote:
> Cool Boy wrote:
> I don't understand...
> She means you could post the next chapter in the story, like a
> series. Then wrap it up like a book.
>
> It reminds me of Roald Dahl's book, "Boy".

Road Dahl...Boy...hmmm

Cool Boy wrote:
> I don't understand...
She means you could post the next chapter in the story, like a series. Then wrap it up like a book.

It reminds me of Roald Dahl's book, "Boy".

Flower wrote:
> He's right, it does, maybe it could become a project?

I don't understand...

He's right, it does, maybe it could become a project?

pb wrote:
> Any, it just sounds like it should be somewhere near the
> beginning of a longer story about someone's life.


Meh....

Any, it just sounds like it should be somewhere near the beginning of a longer story about someone's life.

Thanks.

Which book?

That's very good, it sounds like a small part of a bigger story though. Almost sounds like part of a book...