I am rewriting Book #1 to give it more a literary novel feel to it. The more in depth characterization should fill in many of the omitted but implicit facts of the original book #1. Below is an excerpt from the rough draft of the first chapter. As first lines go, how do you think I did? Did I hook you on the story?
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Ten-year-old Tyco screams with the desperation of a child being murdered as the sun, rising on Tucson, Arizona, peers into his room like laser beams from a monster's eyes. He sits up in bed as he awakes from the nightmares about the "Lizards" torturing him, his black Mayan hair fanning into a shoulder length glistening sheet with drops of sweat embedded in it. The rubber band holding his hair into a ponytail popped during his nocturnal wrestling with the bed, and now he was sitting shirtless in silence, wearing only black boxers. No one would be coming to comfort him, as this was a nightly occurrence; his parents had grown weary of its lack of resolution. His dark brown eyes, with faint yellow rays radiating out from the pupil, glistened with newly minted tears. The yellow rays command his body to rise and seek the comfort of their kindred—he peers through the blinds at the sunrise. His street ends unceremoniously, without an ending curb, at a piece of undeveloped desert. There are no houses beyond, and Tyco is able to observe the morning rise of his desert animals, seeking their last tidbits before they must hide from the blazing sun. He suddenly feels the expected arms of his mother thread between his arms and chest, coiling around him to give him a firm hug. She kisses him on the cheek and momentarily grips the well the developed muscle of his upper left arm as if to reassure herself of his continued health. She holds the mix of emotions within her quietly, knowing that though her son is the pinnacle of health, his body will never develop further—that his body was effectively frozen in time. She reaches up and rotates the control to where the blinds are angled for the convenience of their common gaze. She looks at his face in the orange glow of the morning light and observes where his gaze terminates. She sees a girl from Tyco's former public school class sitting across the street on her front porch, reading a book; her long flowing blond hair radiates the orange morning light as if it were a comet tail.
While firmly gripping Tyco with her left arm, his mom strokes his hair with her right hand as if she is carefully polishing her prized work of art. "What they told you is true, my son. You can never have her, not even for a friend."
Tyco's body shakes from a muted cry. "She is not my possession or pet. She is wonderful. She is not dumb and crude like the other kids in the class. She knows so many wonderful things. She cares for me, doesn't treat me… doesn't treat me as some stupid…"
Tyco's mom sighs. "You will never be going back to that class again. You know why. By this time next year, your mind will be filled with so many wonders… so many your dad and I won't be able to imagine. Her mind will not be so attractive then and she will be getting ready to enter her teenhood."
Tyco turns to his mom and hugs her tightly, crying aloud. "And I will still be just a boy."
"You will always be mom and dad's cherished boy. But you well know you are not just a boy anymore."
"I wish I had grown up in the past as a Mayan warrior. Life would be so much simpler."
Tyco's mom coughs. "I know I taught you to be a Mayan warrior. That was my insanity. I don't think it is wise to think about Mayan warriors… certainly not anymore."
Tyco hugs his mom, crying again. "You are scared of me. Mommy please don't be scared of me. I love you so much."
She hugs him tightly and rubs his back. "I will always love you my son. No matter what you may do, I will love you."
A boy's voice outside begins screaming and is answered by the angry screams of a girl. Tyco's body whirls around, staring angrily out the window. An eleven-year-old boy with red hair cut military-style circles on a bicycle in the street in front of the girl’s house. The boy was the class bully and instigator of several group altercations against Tyco.
“You cannot intervene,” says his mom. “He will not harm her. He has never had the guts to face you one on one. He is just a lost boy.”
“He is not the one that is lost.”
“You are not lost. You are loved by a mom and dad. Remember, the others love you too.”
“When they are not thinking of euthanizing me.”
“Don’t say that!” She hugs him tightly from behind again. She picks up his right hand and begins rubbing his palm with her thumb, exploring the texture of a large, raised, green patch of skin formed in the shape of a large sun symbol.
“You think I’m freak now.”
“No, I was thinking of what you might do to that boy if you got angry.”
Tyco smiles. He mumbles, “Or hungry.”
“What?!”
“Oh mom. You are so gullible sometimes.” He turns around and smiles at her.
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