The Day

On a frigid winter afternoon, James Peterson awoke, from his nap, to the sound of what he thought was a gunshot in the near area. He jumped out of bed and scurried to the window to see what happened. To his relief, he only saw two children playing with firecrackers. James decided to put off his Algebra homework and cuddled up on the couch and read one of his favorite books. James loved to read and often read several books a week. This particular book was about a cunning young man named Albert who always seemed to find himself in the most peculiar situations. James was so caught up in one of Albert's adventures that he lost track of time and forgot he had to pick up his mother from the airport. The sudden shriek of the telephone made James fumble the book in his very hands.

James answered the phone. "H-hello?"

"James Hubert Peterson! Have you any idea what time it is?" His mother sounded as if she were about to explode.

"Oh gosh, I'm really sorry mother, I was reading such an engaging part of my book that I guess I lost track of time!"

"Well, you just get yourself down here right now mister!"

"Yes, mother," James promised.

James proceeded to hop in the car, and drove down to the airport. When he arrived, his mother waved him over to the side of the road. She opened the door and got in with a hurry.

"Well, what are you waiting for, James? Get out there and put the luggage in the trunk, it's not going to put itself in you know."

James looked up in disdain. "Yes mother."

The entire car ride home, James tried to ignore the constant yapping of his mother. Every so often, he would think about his books and how he missed them, even though he had only been away for a short period of time. When they arrived home, James unloaded the bags from the car and took them to his mother's room. He then crept as quietly as he could to his room, where he could escape to fantasy worlds with his books that he loved so much. Before he could take the final step into his room he heard his mother calling his name.

"James come here!"

James adjusted his glasses. "What is it mother?" He walked across the room and sat on the rocking chair, opposite his mother. He could tell by the look in her eye what was coming. His mother silently stood up, elevated her hand, and slapped James across the face.

"That's for being late! Next time I won't be so lenient with you. By the way James, why is it that you always read books? Ever since your father died, all you do is read books. Those things are nothing but brain-washers." With that, she ripped the book out of James' hands and threw it to the ground. "I want you to go out and do something, so that I don't have to look at you anymore. Now go on and get out of here, unless you want another hand print to match the first one!"

James dropped his head and continued out the door. He was not familiar with the "outside world," since he never really ventured out of his house, unless he was picking up something for his mother. James didn't have many friends. In fact, he didn't have any friends at all. The only "real" friends he had were those from the numerous books on his shelf.

James strolled down Lincoln Street, thinking of nothing but his books. He remembered how in his latest book, Albert would always go looking for things, and discover secret passageways. James cut over to the shady park where he could go off into another world as Albert, a young, cunning detective. However, James' adventure was cut short.

"Hey kid, come here. I've got something for you." A man's thundering voice came from behind a tree.

James kept walking. "No thanks, I don't want it."

"I said come here!" The voice boomed even louder than before.

"And I said I don't want it!" With that, James began to walk even faster.

James could hear his pursuer keeping up with his pace. Fearing for himself, James started a fast sprint, hoping that he would not be followed. He was wrong; He looked back momentarily only to see a dark figure gaining ground. James ran as fast as he could then "bang!" He collapsed to the ground, where he lay motionless. His pursuer quickly felt James' pockets for anything he had.

"I think the shot came