Story Starter Saturday is with us again. If you missed what a Story Starter is, you can read what it’s all about HERE.
Last Time you were introduced to Lucia, an 8 year old girl with an amazing superpower, but to use it, she has to employ another important skill. We also met her friend, Merle, a 17 year old boy with an unfortunate superpower of his own. Read about Merle and Lucia HERE.
Today it’s the turn of another of their friends, Tommy. Like Merle, Tommy has a superpower, however to access it, he has to stick his finger down his throat…
It’s almost 2000 words to set you on your way to writing your own story. Stick to the rules, and let me know what you come up with!
Click ‘MORE’ to ready Tommy’s story.
“Don’t do it, Tommy!” Anna took hold of his arm and tried to pull him away, but he shrugged her off.
“Don’t do it Tommy, don’t do it Tommy!” The other boys mimicked in sing-song fashion. There were three of them. They attended the same school as Tommy and Anna. But they weren’t in school now; they were outside the small shop at the end of Tommy’s street, and the boys were pushing Tommy. There would be no teacher to get him out of this.
“Let’s just go, Tommy.” Anna tried again to pull his arm and this time succeeded in turning him around. The pair moved off down the street, but it wasn’t long before the other boys followed.
“That’s it Tommy. Run home to your mum.” The other boys laughed. “Let your girlfriend fight your battles!” More laughter.
“They’re not worth it.” Anna was now behind Tommy, pushing his substantial frame from behind.
“Yes, Tommy, we’re not worth it!” The leader of the boys tried to poke Tommy, but Anna slapped his hand away.
“You don’t want to do that, Wayne,” said Anna.
“Don’t do it Tommy. Don’t do it Wayne. Well, who the hell does that leave to do something? You?”
“Just leave it, Wayne. You and your little gang go and pick on primary school children. They’re about your level. It would be a fairer fight.” Anna flapped a hand at him, causing a chorus of ‘ooo’s’ from the other boys, followed by more laughter.
“Nah, that’s okay. If it’s all the same with you, we want to play with porky here.” Wayne stabbed a finger at Tommy, who stopped and turned around. Anna placed both hands on his chest and continued to push him, but now he was facing her, she couldn’t move him.
“What did you call me?” Tommy’s cheeks had turned a bright red.
“Porky, I think it was. Yes, yes. Porky.” Wayne turned round and looked at his friends who nodded back at their leader.
Tommy stepped towards the group of boys and Wayne mirrored him until the two boy’s faces were centimetres apart. He was shorter than Wayne by a few centimetres, so he looked up into his eyes. “This is all muscle.” He slapped his belly and it made a hollow sound.
“Coated in chocolate, no doubt?” he turned back to the others who laughed.
“You don’t want to fight them, Tommy,” Anna chimed in. “Lucia’s not here to help you.”
“Lucia? Oh yes. She’s another of your freaky friends, right?” Wayne had not moved and scowled down at Tommy.
Tommy shoulders slumped slightly. Anna was right; no Lucia, meant no do-overs, and the way he was feeling now, he thought a do-over might be needed, although the thought of seriously hurting the idiot did have a pleasant ring to it. “I don’t want to fight you, Wayne. Please just go away.”
Wayne didn’t move. “I don’t want to fight you either, big boy.” He held out his arms and shrugged. “I just want those bars of chocolate that you’ve got in your pocket, and we’ll be on our way.”
“The chocolate you just bought back there.” Wayne pointed back over his shoulder to the shop.
“I didn’t buy any chocolate.”
“Oh, right. You shop there for the Guardian, yes?” More laughter from the boys.
“How would you know if you can’t even read?”
“I read enough to know what a Mars Bar is, and I saw you pay for three of them in the shop. Now hand them over.” He held out his hand, palm up, to Tommy.
“You’re not getting them Wayne, so why don’t you just fuck off.”
“Language, indeed!” Wayne laughed, but continued to hold out his hand.
“These aren’t yours.” Tommy jammed his hands into his jacket pockets.
“Then perhaps we’ll just take them.” Wayne signalled the others, and they moved around behind Tommy.
“You really don’t want to do this, Wayne,” said Anna, stepping in front of Tommy.
“Oh, but I think we really do.” Wayne pushed Anna, who stumbled and fell. Tommy stepped forward and punched Wayne in the jaw. Wayne took two steps back, looking shocked rather than hurt. He held a hand up to the other boys, who had stepped towards Tommy, and they stopped.
“That was brave of you, big boy,” said Wayne running a hand over his face. He pulled the hand back and saw the smear of blood that had come from his lip. “Now, I’m gonna give you the opportunity to let you girlfriend go home, before we kick the crap out of you.”
Tommy turned back to Anna and held out a hand to her. She took it, and pulled herself to standing. Tommy looked down at her. “Are you ok?”
“Yes, thanks.” She allowed herself to be hugged by Tommy. As he bent his head to her she spoke quietly into his ear. “Don’t do it, Tom. Please. For me?”
Tommy moved her away, until she was at arm’s length. “Go home Anna. Just go home.”
“Yes, just go home Anna,” Wayne said, still rubbing his jaw. “I’ve never hit a girl, and I don’t want to start now. But I will.”
Anna saw that he meant it and, taking one last look at Tommy, she turned and started to run back down the road. Tommy watched until she turned a corner, then turned back to the group of boys that stood around him. “Please just go, Wayne. All of you. Just go.” His shoulders were still slumped. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Funny,” said Wayne, “but what’s this?” He held out his blood-smeared hand to Tommy.
“You shouldn’t have pushed Anna, that’s all.”
Following Wayne’s lead, the group all moved closer to Tommy. “Sorry about that,” Wayne said, “but she should have just run off, instead of stepping up to me, don’t you think?” He pushed Tommy’s shoulder, spinning him around to face the others. When his back was turned, Wayne punched Tommy in his ribs, dropping him to one knee. The knee striking the pavement acted as a signal to the others and all three of them and Wayne, started kicking Tommy, who quickly fell to his hands and knees, then all the way to the floor. He tried to curl himself up, but the blows still got through.
After each boy had landed several good blows, Wayne waved them to stop, and they all moved back a pace or two.
“Had enough?” Wayne was breathing hard and had started to sweat. “Give us the chocolate.” He held out a hand to Tommy, who had sat up, spitting out saliva, streaked with blood. “Or we can go some more. We’ll get it in the end. Question is, how do you want your face to look when we take it?”
“I don’t think you’re going to take it,” Tommy said, wiping the blood from his chin. “In fact, I’m wondering why I let you do this to me.” Standing up, Tommy raised a hand to his mouth. Sticking out his index finger, he shoved it as far into his mouth as he could. His chest hitched a couple of times, and the others stepped another pace away.
“Jesus! What they hell are you doing?” asked Wayne.
To the others it was clear what Tommy was doing; his chest gave a further hitch, then, throwing his head forward, Tommy threw up. The orange and green vomit splashed off the pavement, some of it splashing his shoes. All the others jumped away now, one or two making retching sounds of their own.
“Holy shit! What the hell’s wrong with you?” said Wayne, looking at the others for some sort of explanation. “You planning to throw up on us?”
Tommy, who had stopped retching, stood, hands on knees, head down, spitting whatever remained onto the pavement. He leaned forwards and scooped up some of the vomit with two of his fingers, bringing a new round of disgust sounds from the others.
“You gonna throw that on us? Fine. But if you do, the kicking you’re gonna get after is gonna be ten times worse.”
“I don’t think so, Wayne.” Tommy flicked the vomit-covered fingers towards Wayne, sending several bits of orange-green mess towards the retreating boy. A bit landed on his blazer, some on his trousers.
“That is fucking disgusting!” said Wayne. “I’m gonna give you the biggest –” He stopped and looked at his arm. Where the vomit had struck his blazer, there was a fizzing and hissing. Small tendrils of steam rose from the now penny-sized hole that had formed. He stood watching as the hole grew to the size of a ten pence piece, before he started to jump around. “My leg! My leg!” He screamed as he began to bat his thigh. A similar hole had begun to appear, this one bigger than the last. All at once, the other boys started looking around, unsure of what to do. Wayne struggled out of his blazer, throwing it to the floor. The hole was now several centimetres wide and continued to grow, and hiss. Wayne was now in the process of removing his shoes so he could get his trousers off, hopping as he did so.
Tommy reached down and scooped up another fingers-worth of the vomit. He turned to the other boys and flicked it towards them. Two of them scampered out of the way, but the third caught a tiny bit on his cheek. He immediately began screaming and scratching and clawing at his face, then rubbing at it with his blazered-arm. In seconds, the blazer began to hiss and smoke, and he quickly removed it, throwing it aside.
“Help me!” He turned to the other boys, and when he removed his hands, they could see the hole that had appeared in his cheek. The flesh appeared to be dying away, and a combination of blood and vomit dripped from his face. The boys turned and ran up the street, leaving their friends behind them.
Wayne had removed his trousers by now, but was still alternating between batting his thigh and batting his arm. His clothes had clearly taken the worst, and lay in a pile of smoking rags, but his arm and leg showed painful welts, looking like bad burns.
“What did you do, freak?” It was difficult to sound intimidating standing in the street without your trousers.
“You want to hang around and find out?” asked Tommy.
Wayne looked around at the only other boy there: he was still clutching his face and crying. Wayne looked back at Tommy. “Fuck you freak!” He turned and, gathering up his trousers and his friend, they walked away, looking back one or twice to make sure Tommy wasn’t following.
Tommy did not follow. He stood and watched the boys disappear down the road and around a corner. When he could no longer see them, he leaned forward again, putting his hands back to his knees, and blew out breath he had not realised he had been holding.
When his heart rate returned to normal, he turned and began to walk back the way he had come. The pool of vomit would become inert in a few minutes and would wash away in the next rain shower. More difficult to explain would be the marks on the two boys, but that was a concern for another day.
Well, that’s it folks. Copy it, adapt it, change it. Just remember to link back here if you use it!
What do you think about Tommy? Let me know in the comments.