A Collection of Short/Long Stories I've Written;

Becoming Ronnie: 11.

I quickly threw this together because I'm dog tired and I know I won't upload when I get back. I've been at work for 10 hours and now I'm going to a BBQ for the night and I'll probably end up drinking a load and getting back and collapsing on my bed, so I wrote this. I'm going to, over the weekend, (after work) get a couple of chapters of this up before I update any of my other things. I have the plot and everything all in my head so I'm ma' do this. I think I'll update OAS next. I'm going to have that as my main focus after I get nearer to finishing this because it's in the Watty Awards.

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We drove back to Dylan’s house. It was now raining and my windscreen wipers were on fully. I drove faster than I did to get to my house. I hated to rain. A grimace was set out on my face as we stopped at a red traffic light.

“How old is your brother?” I asked, to pass the time and distract myself from the rain.

“Twenty-one.”

“So he’s only two years old than you?”

“Yes.”

“Cool.” It seemed as if the conversation died there and I rolled my eyes, staring back at the rain again.

“He’s in a wheelchair now.” Dylan muttered, looking out at the raindrops running along the side of my beautiful car.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

I was sorry. I couldn’t believe he went through with sometime like that.

“Because his injuries were in his back, they left him paralyzed. He forgets things sometimes and can’t walk and stuff, but apart from that, he’s well.”

A small smile replaced the grimace on my face and as I was about to turn and look at Dylan the lights went green.

We carried on as we were, concentrating on the rain, as we made it to his house. It wasn’t too far from mine. That would prove to be a bonus, seen so he was now my friend.

“Just so you know…” Dylan said as he un-buckled his seatbelt, “My uncle is…friendly.”

I giggled and a piece of my hair fell into my face. “How bad could a friendly person be?”

My answer was met by myself as I walked into their nice cosy house. I shook the rain off of Dylan’s jacket, as he’d handed it over to me to make sure the rain didn’t wet my hair and was tackled into a large hug before I had even looked up.

A man, in his forties, I presume, pulled away from me and kissed my forehead.

I stared at him with an open mouth and looked into his blue eyes. They were the exact same shade of Dylan’s.

“Uh…”

“Oh my goodness! Dylan!” The man shouted. “You brought home a girl! Finally! I was starting to think that you didn’t like girls –”

“Uncle!” Dylan shouted, a little pink rose to his cheeks as his uncle told embarrassing stories.

I scratched the back of my head awkwardly.

“And who are you, princess?”

“I’m Ver-Ronnie—” I curt myself off. Bloody hell, I was terrible at pronouncing my own name. “Ronnie.” I finally replied.

“Are you sure,” he asked, “because you don’t seem sure.”

I raised an eyebrow and looked at Dylan. It was the exact same thing he’d said to me when I messed up my name.