Bear Child (Book 1)

Chapter 1

Hey everyone! Thanks for taking some time to take a look at my book! I've been writing since I was little, but this is the first book I've decided to let people see. I admitt, that the story might have a few flaws, and it's a bit slow at the beginning, but after the first few chapters, the story starts picking up. You'll just have to bear with me. Haha, get it? Bear? No . . .? Never mind. Bad pun. Anyways, please enjoy my book. I would love some feedback! If it's good feedback, then great! Keep it coming! If it's bad feedback . . . well . . . go easy on me. But I will gratefully take it as constructive critisism. Leave comments rates! God bless you.  -Jocelyn <3

 P.S. To the right is the awesome trailer made by Hallio! Go on and take a look!

             1. Moving

          I didn't know what to do anymore. I felt like my life was coming to an end. These past few days have been the worst of my life. I wasn't really paying attention to the things around me. Not the music from my iPod, not the roaring engines of the plane, not the view of the mountains from the window, or even the screaming 8-year-old boy kicking the back of my seat. I didn't really care at all.

          It was Saturday, September 11. 8:34 in the morning, to be exact. The very last week of my vacation before I go back to school and start the first semester of the 11th grade, even though classes have already started in my new hometown. I tried not to think about it though. Besides, it's not like my mind would let me, anyways. I have been spending the whole morning reliving the horrible night that happened only two weeks ago. Even though 2 weeks would be a long time for most people, it was a short time ago for me — but when I endured them, the days still seemed endless. My mind would slip into the memories constantly. As I slipped into the memory again, all the noises and sights that were around me slowly started to get blacked out as I relived the nightmare all over again.

          Me and my mom were coming out of an Italian restaurant back in my home town, Manhattan. Rouge Cuisine was the name of the restaurant. We were off celebrating my birthday there, August 26, and me and my mom were on our way to the car. We had to leave since the restaurant was closing up.

Our car was a block down from where the restaurant was at, so no one else was around since we parked around the corner. I had a bad, eerie feeling about the quiet darkness. And the feeling I had was for a reason. That was the beginning of the end.

          As we eased around the dark corner that was covered in graffiti, three men appear from the shadows. They threaten my mom to give them her money and jewelry or she would regret it. My mother gives them the couple hundred dollars she had and all of her jewelry. I give them the pathetic jewelry I had on also. I remember it being cheap, silver tainted copper. The guy in the middle takes out a gun and his friends take out knives.

"This is all you have? I know you have more! Take it out!" the man with the gun shouts. My mom told them that it was all she had, and she wasn’t lying . . . except for one thing. The man still insists and starts stalking closer to us. My mom tells me that she will always love me, hugs me, hands me a little box, and tells me to run.

          Before Mom can take another breath, the man with the gun shoots her . . . right in front of my eyes. I could remember the tears running down my cheeks nonstop, just like I felt them now. I screamed into my hand, already having a nervous break down. “Mom! No!” I would scream. I remembered feeling the urge to run up to the man with a gun and beat him as hard as I could, but I knew I wouldn’t have a chance.

My mom was barely alive, but she still tells me to run again. So that's what I do. As I run around the corner, I see the man shoot her again. I knew she had to be dead. She couldn’t have survived. I began to cry so hard and I screamed for help, but no one came. “This isn’t happening.” I would manage to say to myself between sobs. “This isn’t happening!”