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CHAPTER ONE CANDLES IN HIS MIND !
(this story has been re-written so please re-read!)
mud, rocks, sticks and bugs. those were once the only things important to mike wheeler. now almost approaching his fifteenth birthday, those were the least of his worries. his mind was now flooded with graphic video games, soft drinks and pornographic magazines. things his mother doesn't know about- and if she did he'd probably be kicked out onto the street. in her eyes, he was still her little mikey covered in mud with leaves and twigs sticking to his hair.
nowadays he would hibernate in the basement for hours on end, crunching soft drink cans and tossing them into the corner one after the other. his teeth were probably rotting down the the gums, but to mike it was all part of the adrenaline rush.
one of his closest friends, dustin, was the one who introduced him to video games. and he really couldn't stop. the two of them had now been trying to complete the last level of god knows what game that they found at the market for the last two hours.
"fuck off! i'm going to loose!" mike screeched, nudging his friend by the elbow and shoving him off the sofa.
dustin fell with a loud thump, triggering mikes mother to call out to them. mike hollered a routine 'everything's fine!' whilst continuing to play the game with furiously intensity.
mike groaned, throwing the controller and flopping back onto the couch in defeat, as an electronic voice told him 'game over'. dustin grabbed mikes arm, twisting it so he could read his watch.
"shit." he hissed, putting on his cap. "i have to go. my mom is going to go nuts at me because it's already getting dark."
mike nodded, passing him a can of coke that was half empty. "want one for the ride home?"
dustin smiles, taking the can as he opened the door that lead out of the basement and out into the back garden. "see you tomorrow, dude."
and with a slam of the ratty door, rumbling the walls, mike was left alone in his own solitude. he did his rounds, switching off the game consoles and trying to bundle as many piles of junk food wrappers in his long, lanky arms and dumping them in the trash.
once he was done, he climbed up to his room, stealing a cookie from the kitchen on his way up. he slipped into his pyjamas- well, old comfy clothes he didn't mind wearing to bed- and ruffled his hair before catching his own reflection in the window. he looked at himself, rubbing his upper lip. was he getting a moustache? fuck.
mike tore his eyes away, and flopped his lanky body onto his bed, smothering his face into the pillow.
