literature

Journalistic chapt.1

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Literature Text

Chapter One

Cigarette smoke lingered in the building, already stuffy from the summer air. A young man sat at a wooden desk, his fingers tapping furiously on the keys of a typewriter. Around him a scramble of men flipped through papers, chatted mildly about work, and exchanged the news. Sweat laced the young man's brow as he replaced the paper in his machine.

"Sam, you were supposed to get off an hour ago, what're you doin'?" A man with a cigar in his mouth and his hands in his pockets asked the man at the desk.

"Sorry Mr. Brown, just got caught up in the article is all." Sam said, looking up from his work and rubbing his eyes.

"The article will get written my boy, but it won't get done well if you're workin' this hard." The man explained as he took his cigar from his mouth and released a puff of smoke.

"Right, sorry sir." Sam said before standing out of his chair and running his fingers through his hair.

The Boss of the newspaper nodded before walking away from the young man, "Wait, Mr. Brown." Sam said as he caught up with his boss, "I was wondering if you had anymore, interesting stories I could do, robbers, murderers, you know, stuff like that?"

"I'm not sure you're ready for that yet kid." Brown said as they reached his office, "I doubt you have the stomach for those kinds of stories." He explained.

"Oh, right." Sam said, with mild disappointment "I understand sir."

"Yes, enjoy your break kid." Brown said before closing the door to his office.

The young man stood there for a moment until he turned toward the door of the building. Sam inhaled the fresh outdoor air, thankful to be away from the musty atmosphere of the newspaper office. He quickly adjusted to the bustle of the evening crowd that moved to their homes.

The brick house was built tall and thin and the young man moved out of the crowds to get to it. He looked at the soft glow that radiated out of the windows and turned to a man nearby, "Do you have the time sir?" He asked, one hand resting on the doorknob.

"Just about seven." The man replied with a nod and a wrinkled smile while he walked past the house.

Sam nodded and braced himself before opening the door. "Sam!" A voice called as soon as he stepped in, and the young man heard the drum of feet running against the hardwood.

"Look who it is!" Sam said excitedly as he crouched to the ground in time for three younger children to throw their arms around him.

"Sam! You promised you'd be home for dinner." A little girl pouted, her ponytail bouncing as she moved her head down and looked up at him.

"Yeah!" A young boy added on, "You double promised."

The third child mumbled into Sam's shirt, but her tone was clearly cross.

"I'm sorry kids, work's been holding me up all week; did mom already make dinner?" He asked

"She left some out for you." The ponytail child explained sadly, "It's prob'ly cold by now though."

"That's okay Grace." Sam said, kissing the girl on the cheek, "Now everyone off, it's time for you all to get ready for bed."

"But we wanna spend time with you." The other little girl said as she removed her face from his shirt, a gap showing between her teeth.

"There'll be time for that tomorrow." Sam replied with a tired smile.

"Promise?" The little boy said, "A promise, promise, promise?"

"Get ready for bed triplets!" A woman's voice called in the house as the sound of shoes on the hardwood came again.

"You heard her." Sam said with a smile as he stood and the children moved off of him.

"But mom!" The young boy called.

"Grace, Walter, Ella, I said bed." An older woman said as she came toward the group. Her red hair was thrown into a messy bun, and her dress was scuffed around the edges.

"Night Sam." Grace said as the triplets moved to hug their brother goodnight.

"Promise, promise, promise." Walter whispered before they broke off the squeeze and ran up the stairs, giggling and tripping over each other.

"Finally decided to come home?" The woman asked as she hugged her son.

"Work's been holding me up, there's so many stories, so many things that need written." Sam explained.

"Now you and I both know that work hasn't been keeping you late, you've been keeping you late." The woman said with a tired smile, the wrinkles on her face showing in the light.

Sam moved to speak, but was unsure how to reply. His mother smiled and brushed his shoulders, "It's alright, it's what makes you happy." She said, kissing his cheek, "Food's on the table, I'll be getting ready for bed."

"Goodnight mother." Sam said with a smile as he walked into the kitchen and she disappeared up the stairs.

The young journalist smiled as he saw his dinner set up for him and he sat down alone at the table. He took a bite of food and looked over to the kitchen window where he could see the sun begin to disappear over the horizon. He sighed and ran his hands through his hair as the house fell silent. "What did he mean by 'not having the stomach'? I can handle it, why can't he just trust me? I'm not a kid." He mumbled as he played with his food, his eyes returning to the sunset. His thoughts lingered over what was over the horizon, and if he'd ever make it there.
The first (small) chapter of a story I'm writing inspired by :iconbritt315: and this: [link] picture she drew. <3
There will be more to come!

All credit goes to :iconbritt315: :D

(Temporary title as I can't think of a good one xD)

There will be more to come :D

NEXT: [link]
© 2012 - 2024 FrazzeledFish
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Littlemissnick's avatar
Haha awesome story :D What year does it take place in??