Weary feet pace the cracked concrete, uncaring of the gum and the spit that stain its surface. The cars sweep the garbage into the gutters, their restless tires pounding the potholes and tossing pebbles at the homeless, who hug the walls of the downtown vendors beneath vintage graffiti.

Beneath looming towers of rusty brick, standing still and alone on the sidewalk amidst the rush of pedestrians, is a young boy. A small pack sits on his shoulders and his eyes pass easily over the city street. But he is only pausing here, and as a bullet-proof cruiser rounds the corner, he turns and strides steadily in the opposite direction. He calmly passes the rags of the homeless, side-steps a man in flight, and simply ignores the cold stare from the passing cop. But he doesn’t walk with the protective stance of a man in danger. Indeed, he is only a boy, and he walks as if down a path through his neighborhood.

He soon joins an unruly crowd on the curb, garnering several suspicious looks as he stops between a large tattooed man and a frail woman with cigarette skin. A city bus arrives in a squeal of dusty fumes. The passengers jostle while afraid to touch, and they file awkwardly into the bus, grumbling over the fare. The boy is last to board, and he smiles and greets the driver as if he knows the man. He then seats himself by a window.

After a moment, a large black man leans over the hard plastic seat. “Aren’t you a little young to be traveling alone?” he asks.

The boy shakes his head. “No sir,” he says. “I’m a whole nine and a half years old.”

“Yes,” the man says. “That’s what I mean. You’re nine years old. These parts of town are dangerous.”

The boy shrugs. “These parts of town are my home,” he says. “Not gonna live in fear. And I know my way all over town, you know. All the buses. Even at night.” He thinks that this will reassure the man, but it only receives a frown.

“Why would you be out alone at night?”

“Exploring,” the boy says. “I don’t drink like my friends; don’t think I ever will.”

“Your friends?” asks the man. “Are they as young as you?”

“Well, not really my friends. I just know them.” But the boy is only interested in his dreams of exploring. “This one time I found a set of stairs to a rooftop garden. It was so cool up there.”

The man gazes at the buildings of crumbling plaster and brick that sit along the street like vacant skulls. He gives a sour smile. “Yes,” he says. “I suppose it depends on where you go.”

The boy nods. “Some of the condos have nice courtyards; it’s easy to climb the fences. I’ll live in one of those condos by the river some day.”

The man chuckles. “Well,” he says. “I don’t think you’ll be moving out for some time.”

“All I need is a job,” the boy says. He is serious, and he adds a further statement of conviction. “I hear word that some kitchens are lookin’ for washers.”

“Now why would you want to wash dishes?” The man is indignant as he grips the seatback with two large hands.

“Just a thought,” the boy says. “I gotta find work sometime.”

“But you’ve got your whole life to work! Right now you should be living like a kid and not thinkin’ you’re some grown up.”

The boy smiles. “What’s a grown up?” he asks. “Someone who’s grown all they want and refuse to grow anymore? That’s not me. I’ve only just begun. I’m gonna get myself outta here soon enough. It won’t be long.”

The black man rolls back against his seat and folds his arms with a deep throated laugh. The boy moves for the door and the man speaks after him in a voice loud enough for the bus to hear. “You have yourself a good day,” he says. “Hey. Stay young. Stay strong.”

The boy nods with due respect. “I will.”

Author guidance for This story

I would love all the honest feedback and constructive criticism you can offer to help with the creation of this full-length novel! Thanks! :D

Novel Catch:

This is a novel of our times. It follows the lives of several people as they search for truth in a world where masked corruption strives to conquer and control even the most sacred. One man leaves a shattered life in search of a new one and embarks on a daring quest to navigate the treacherous terrain of third-world civil rebellions. A small boy stands up against the oppressive inner city life of a crumbling social system and founds a new direction for social activism. A detective is tipped off by a phantom stranger and falls deep into a striking conspiracy of corruption, politics, and money. And while the courageous desperately search for truth, one man sits in peace with a conditioned killer, sipping tea with a wizened old smile.

These story lines and others evolve throughout this full-length novel (in progress) to weave together a single story of human evolution in an unstable world.

If you would like access to an archive of pdf downloads of the novel, visit my website: http://brightwell.webs.com/theemancipators.htm

Background Message from Author:

For the past ten years, I have been writing stories, novels, and poetry for the process of self-discovery and for the improvement of my writing skills, while sharing most of my work in the past three years here on Protagonize. But until now, I have always kept my major works in private.

Considering the advancements of technology and the evolution of the arts in that regard, I have decided that self-publishing a finished product is a viable route. And to take this idea further, I asked the question, why not self-publish as I write?

The technology that allows an entire community to read a novel as the author writes it (to provide feedback, critiques, and encouragement) can replace the work of a publishing agency--the author has a whole host of 'editors' through every stage of the writing, the author builds up an audience of readers throughout the novel's progress, and those readers who wish to support the writer can do so with donations throughout the writing process, which is often the most critical time.

Writing is meant to be shared, but when so many writers hide in their bedrooms tapping away for months because they want to save it all up for the grand revealing of traditional publishing, they often do not ever get heard because that final step never happens. Throughout my years on this site, I have seen the spirit of community writing at its finest, and authors who have found little support in their families or locational communities, are developing their skills and their literary portfolios at an amazing rate. And this is all I want. My only goal is to finish this literary piece of art to the standards that I have set. I care not for traditional publishing. It is rather irrelevant at this stage in a purely creative process.

And, I have now reached a stage where I am ready to write a novel for the finished product, one that is fully designed with purpose from the beginning. And I have done this preparation by considering everything that I want to share, communicate, and express through writing, and by finding a story and a cast of characters that can perform such a feat. I have the storylines, I have the overarching plot, and most of all, I have the purpose.

If you would be so kind as to join me, to give me as much honest feedback and constructive criticism as you can, you too could be a part of this creative process. The goal is to create this work of literary art. Your participation is greatly appreciated!

Kind Regards,
Benjamin Brightwell

updated Jun 21 '11 by olius_brightwell