Some former writings: A Retrospective
Once upon a pandemic, this author, at the tender age of 11, decided to write something. This something started as a descriptive paragraph, born from a one-sentence writing prompt involving a girl named Barbara and some chocolate cake. Said cake was described with an unholy number of adjectives, ravenously consumed, and then spilled.
In the aftermath of the spilling, the descriptive paragraph expanded to occupy some secondary characters. The secondary characters, however, were charming and devious, and smuggled in their own backstories. Those backstories intersected in multifarious ways, creating a minefield of new plot points, the resolution of which involved the introduction of several new characters. And so on and so forth.
Somewhere along the way, this author decided the something would be an homage (the reader is requested to read this in a French accent) to the Jeeves series and the Fourth Stall series.
Jeeves, P. G. Wodehouse’s tales of the eponymous inimitable manservant and bumbling aristocrat Bertram, impressed me for their over-the-top descriptions and the plots, which came together with masterly neatness.
The Fourth Stall was a version of the Godfather for fifth-graders that I didn’t quite understand but found quite charming. Not letting my incomprehension of the text be an impediment against my paying homage to it, I presented my own school-appropriate mafia interpretation — the Raiders.
Essentially, our jock protagonist Barbara becomes an unwilling pawn in various schemes when she, along with the cousins Jacey and Max, ends up doing some rather expensive damage to Dan’s upcoming party preparations — damage that requires a loan from the middle school mafia, the Raiders, to fix.
Hijinks ensue.
The story, which reached 25,000 words, the majority features some examples of “banter” too excruciating to ever be put in print, a fight scene, arcane mafia rituals, and more.
For the reader’s amusement, this author has decided to resurrect the characters with extracts chosen to most succinctly describe the characters they involve.
Upon these most fortuitous premises, our story opens with:
It was that time of the year where spring awakens bleary and irritable, rubs the last of winter from its eyes, and tackles its case of bed hair.
Barbara
(beleaguered protagonists just wanna play soccer)
Barbara preferred to follow the motto of “carry a big stick (though normally her soccer cleats would do) and growl menacingly.”
She did not hiss “You,” but the gist was made clear.
The Twins: Jacey and Max
(Heroes or hellions? Who’s to say?)
Barbara speculated that Jacey could never come clean. Even if she told every one of her secrets, the dark oil slick that was her soul would remain forever dirty.
Max patted her sympathetically (or not so sympathetically, for it cannot be proven that Max plastered Nutella all over the back of her shirt on purpose; it certainly seems in line with her character) on the back.
The urge to wipe the innocent grin (an expression she wore VERY often, though the instances in which she had justifiable reason to wear it were VERY rare) off Jacey’s face, forcibly, was quite overpowering.
Dan
(Brother to the twins, much to the regret of both parties)
Dan was their older brother and, as he said very often, school prefect, A++ student, editor of the school newspaper, local library aide, head of the local debate club and the school debate club, as well as the science, chess, gardening, photography, and math clubs; captain of the lacrosse team; volunteer at the local animal shelter; a youth leader; a writer to the local newspaper; and the leader of the local Boy Scout troop.
Inevitably, he also listed the various awards he had won in each profession alphabetically or reverse alphabetically, or, if he was feeling creative, chronologically or reverse chronologically. As well as how he set an example for younger ones like Max, Jacey, and Barbara to live up to, and how far they fell from his standards.
He was, as Jacey and Max said frequently, the biggest blight on the Chestmond family name.
Dan rushed over. (Again, it must be reiterated that it was not out of any fondness for Barbara, or any goodwill, really — but didn’t the Boy Scout Manual tell all Boy Scouts to help injured persons?)
Leslie
(Brother to Barbara, much to the confusion of both parties)
Yes, her brother was regrettably one of the self-tie-dyed-ombré-sweater-ed, casually-ripped-jeans-ed artist crowd.
A fact she was regularly reminded of when she saw the new streaks of colour her brother had gotten in his hair. They were an aggravating shade of green.
“To remind one of new beginnings, that hope will always crop up again, like the saplings from under the cold hard winter snow,” he had said solemnly, striking a dramatically sombre pose.
Artists.
Kimiko
(our evil mastermind antagonist with appropriately tragic backstory)
She wasn’t the Raven here, only the quiet girl named Kimiko. Laura’s meek little sister. Barbara wondered if she liked it better that way.
Perhaps not. Perhaps that was the reason she loved to be in the Raiders, to be the Raven — to be someone other than her sister’s shadow.
The Raiders
(middle-school mafia + theatre kid convention)
Barbara was significantly biased to believe (for good reason!) that the Raiders were the source of many of the town’s problems. She had speculated gloomily that if there were a Dallas branch, the FBI had a strong contender for the assassinator of a certain American president.
Barbara watched people, wondering if they were Raiders. (She vaguely suspected that this was a sign of post-traumatic stress disorder.)
The Librecluse
(amazing secondary antagonist)
She was known to hiss at people who entered the library, explaining why the school library was such a welcoming place.
It was the practice of older students who were monitoring the younger students to say, “Careful now, sit there and be quiet, or the Librecluse will get you and drink your blood.”
Albert James Evenham-Morrison Gerald
(amazing secondary antagonist)
Or rather, Albert James Evenham-Morrison Gerald. The aristocratic hyphen between the Evenham and the Morrison could practically be seen whenever he spoke his name, which was quite often, for he was rather fond of it, in the way he arched his eyebrows superiorly at that junction.
He supposedly was the fourth cousin, twice removed, of the Evenham-Morrisons of England — eighth cousin by his great-grandfather’s marriage.
His fondness for his name is proven in the legend that, in his days of fervour, youth, and black moustaches, he used to repeat it while chasing offenders, to the great delight of the offenders. For he often had to stop to catch his breath, while the offender, smart in their silence, raced away.
“I’ll get you, young lady, or my name isn’t Albert James — puff — Evenham — puff — Morrison — puff — Gerald!”
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