working on chapter two of new story |
Chapter 2 Jack gently closed the front door behind him, his eyes adjusting to the dimly lit interior of his house. He bent down, his mane of chestnut hair falling over his eyes, to extract his feet from the slightly worn hiking boots that encased them. As his feet settled on the cold stone of his slated floor, he uttered a small sigh of relief. After pausing briefly, Jack leaped up a flight of stairs with youthful ease, taking three steps at a time. Having reached the first floor, he walked down a carpet laden hallway and followed it subconsciously to the end. He soon found himself glancing at a wooden sign that read Jack’s Room that had been nailed to the door in front of him. His whereabouts having been confirmed, he proceeded past the door and soon found himself sinking into a familiar chair of the leather variety. Jack’s desk was littered with writing utensils, a worn out copy of The Pickwick Papers and a card bearing the words Happy 16th Birthday. Jack reclined in his chair and closed his tired eyes, strategically massaging them with his palms. Blinking once or twice, he propped his eyes open again and reached out for the evening paper. Such habits as reading the daily news were indeed very unusual at his age. None of his friends could fathom his interest in literature and politics. Whilst they aspired to sport legends, he obsessively treasured figures such as Dickens, Socrates, Wilde and Churchill with awe. Jack perused the paper at leisure, his eyes wandering over its offerings. Suddenly, he lent forward in his seat, peering at a large advertisement. The weariness was wiped quite suddenly from his eyes which seemed to widen for optimum vision. Jack remained still for some minutes, his eyes scanned rapidly over the same area several times. With a cry he sprang from his seat and rushed out of his room. |