This was based on a script for a teen television drama series I wrote (as an amateur) a while ago but have since decided to turn it into a book.
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Mark zoned out the shrill cries of the sibling war wounded as his crunched his final 20. Sweating to the 80’s electro beats he was born to love, driving him on, keeping his athletic build he’d worked so hard to obtain - against the wishes of his parents – “Mark, what you wanna grow up so quick for? Kent you just enjoy being young? Kids bleddy grow up too quick these days.” They’d nag. He was strong and wanted to stay that way.
He’d already cranked it up a notch in an attempt to drown out the inevitable. Little Billy and Liz were killing each other again. He could try and stop them but they’d only be at each other’s throats again, although, mum would be home soon so maybe he should step in. He’d only get an earful otherwise.
“Come back here, you little brat!” She was furious and Billy knew it, he couldn’t hide his delight in her anger but it didn’t matter, he could run fast and he’d need to. Just time for a little bum wiggle then, sprint!
Mark pressed stop on the cassette player. Slowly got up and dried the sweat with a towel. He hated the way his dark curly hair frizzed each time it got wet.
Mark called out “Just leave ‘im Liz!”
Thump!
“I didn’t do anything!”
Billy screeched his little heart out.
Mark came out of his room to find a trembling Billy clutching his nose, blood pouring out.
“I hate you!” Billy warbled between sharp intakes of breath and lip wobbles.
“I didn’t do anything” she protested.
Mark ran to the bathroom to get a cold flannel. He guessed Billy was ok but it didn’t look good.
“You’re a cow and I’m telling” Billy snarled.
“Mark, honest, he tripped. Anyway, you weren’t much help.”
Mark put the flannel under Billy’s nose and pressed firmly. “Put your head back” he instructed.
Liz seized the opportunity to snatch back her Michael Jackson Thriller tape out of Jimmy’s loose grip. He choked a little but didn’t have time to retaliate.
“I ‘spose I’ll get in trouble for that too,” she scowled, then stomped up the stairs, off to her room and slammed the door behind her, there was a click then what sounded like a muffled Beat it intro.
Mark gently removed the flannel for a moment. Billy was still bleeding but only a little so Mark put the flannel back.
Billy sucked in his breath “you stink” he observed.
“Cheers!” Mark laughed “you’ll be alright. What happened there?”
“I don’t want to talk.” With that he snatched the flannel and turned away.
“Alright but don’t grass ‘er up ok?”
The five year old pondered on this.
“Come on, it’ll only stress everyone out.”
“Can we watch Danger Mouse?”
“Good call.”
Mark opened his arms and Billy climbed onto him, holding on like the little monkey he was. Messy wavy chestnut hair, very open brown eyes with long lashes, a little button nose (albeit covered in dried blood), tear tracked full cheeks. Mark gestured for Billy to wait there while he got a clean wet flannel to clean his little brother up.
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