part of a book im writing..still needs revision

[lil_miss_bea3]

I started writing this a few weeks ago, and so i'm still going to revise it anyother million times so that its perfect in my eyes.
this is a book with 4 diff main characters and each chapter it goes to a diff person, i dunno whats thats called. This character's name is 'Adam' and he's the one who does drugs and stuff. His problem is that after his mother died his dad has been in a long depression of drinking to numb the pain. Adam has to then pay the bills, so to do that he sells drugs, and he also does them himself to numb his feelings.
well hope you guys like it.
p.s. this chapter is not complete i need to add and remove things that i like or dislike later on.


Adam stood on his feet staring at the wall; he had just gotten back from detention, and Kate dropped had dropped him off at home. The wall paint was peeling badly; like it had been, for the past 15 years. It was an odd shade of light green, and parts were a bright magenta; so you could tell someone was planning to redo this room, just had never finished. When he finally realized that he was standing staring at a motionless wall, he couldn't help but wonder how long he had been in that trance.
He stumbled past the living room, where his dad was sleeping with an empty bottle of Bush light in one hand snoring; making a sound like an angry elephant. Adam then proceeded to the stairs of the attic. The door was eaten away wood, the handle had been broken off and all you needed to do was give it a little push. As he gave it a nudge it made a long screechy sound like nails scratching a chalkboard. He didn't bother to see if anyone was watching him go up there, because he knew his dad was going to be passed out for a while longer.
As he walked up the brittle stairs, they made creaks and squeaks, but he didn't take much notice. He used to be scared of going up there, he always thought the floor was going to collapse, but now days he could care less if no one knew he was dead. When he made it up there, it looked the same as when he went up there last time; Dusty, moldy, and boring. The wooden floor was disgusting, and the walls were filled with sliver spider webs that made there way across the entire attic.
Through this he made his way to a box, it was hidden in the corner, and unless you knew it was there, you wouldn?t have noticed it; as it camouflaged with its surroundings. Adam sat down to make himself more comfortable, for he would be there for a while. Carefully he lifted the dirty frames and photos out of the box. Cleaning the dirt off of it with his clean fingerstips, he instantly became transfixed on them.
They all contained a lady who was actually quite pretty; she had Adam's safire blue eyes, and the same burning red hair. Silent teardrops spilled from his face. Now if you knew Adam very well, you would now that he had never cried in front of anyone for many years. Those teardrops cleaned the floor of its filth, and made there way through the cracks in the floor; ridding them of the same dirt. He flipped through the photos slowly, and with care. His stifled cries couldn't be controlled; they became giant globs of salty tears and rolled across the floor like wheels in every direction. The photo's he now held had the same lady. The lady was now in a hospital bed with an IV attached to her, a little boy was in the next picture next to her; he had the same red hair. The little boy was crying next to the lady holding her hands tightly and appeared to have wanted to scream out to god to stop punishing them. The next few photos had many people dressed in midnight black. All the people were blowing their noses in handkerchiefs and crying softly.
But the little boy was crying noisily, and screaming "Mommy, Mommy!"
A man cowered over by the young boy and wept; he couldn't control the tears that rained onto the grass nurturing it to life. They just kept going and dried out his gloomy appearance.
Adam suddenly snapped out of his flashback, he took a few last glances at the photo's and the final death certificate which contained his mother's name. Putting the entire collection of photo's and remembrances where they were before he took them out.
As he was going down the stairs he heard his father yelling in long moans of pain. So Adam made himself more quiet and went to the living room were his father looked almost limp; like he was to lazy to even move his arm to the seat instead of having it hang loose.
"Hey son!" His father slurred. He seemed to have a little trouble speaking correctly, and repeated himself a few more times stuttering.
"Be a pal, and get me a bottle of rum." His voice made a sort of spitting noise that was sick and disturbing; leaving his saliva all over the couch, and a long string of it hanging from his lower lip.
His father smiled and then turned his attention back to the TV.
"Sure" Adam replied tiredly. Adam was somewhat disgusted with his father's behavior, but went to his cell phone, and dialed the numbers which he would need.
"Hey"
"Yeah I got some money; just get me a few more bottles of that one shit you brought last time"
"Yeah make it quick, he's gonna rage soon."

[Hannibal]

Not bad - bit of a small "chapter" if ya ask me [img]wink.gif[/img]
but who asks me?
hehehe
I also was working on a book at one time.
I had about 3-4 chapters down, like 13 pgs worth of single spaced text. Nothing major.
But, now it sits motionless. :-p
Good luck to you on this.