James Tucker
Stories (2)
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The Painted Town, Part 1.
When my brother and I returned home after our final day of school for the year, it was late May and we were both cheered being home after another long year at the Flore Educational School. My brother would be a 6th grader now and I would be moving on to 11th grade. When we got home our mother had a cake waiting for us, it was a cookie cake, just the way we liked it. When we asked what the occasion was she simply stated that she was proud of us for exceeding her expectations for this past year; both of us put in a lot of time studying and completing various projects before there due dates. I'd be moving to college within a few years and it was even assumed that--due to following in my footsteps--that he would even achieve more than I did when competing in the Science Bowl. That was a big event, don't misunderstand, a lot of kids base their entire years on that project. Some even receive offers from prestigious universities and well-established businesses because of their research and work-ethic. This year I worked on a topic that I had been thinking about for a long time, I had gotten into the arts years ago, mostly just doodling on my notepad and sketchbook. I bought myself a few books with my allowance and even managed to squeeze in an art class or two along the way. I loved to draw, and I especially loved drawing people.
By James Tucker4 years ago in Fiction
Midnight's Rest
I live in the Philmore District of Harborough Heights with my parents and twin sister. They work during the day while she and I go to school a few miles away, we walk the distance carefully but never worry about our safety. I feel relaxed here, and my sister would say the same thing. We're both fifteen now and soon we'll be driving new cars with our own licenses. We count the days by, eyeing the calender with great anticipation--soon, soon. Its now April, only half a year to that expected date; we should be ecstatic for the milestone, but we're not. At least, I'm not. My sister fell ill a month ago and I don't know what to do; in some philosophical way I'm happy I care for her this much, that we've had a better relationship than all those brother/sister duos we see on TV. Whenever I come back from school I make sure to do my homework by her side and even help her out with hers. She's weakened, laying in this bed; I can tell. Over a month now and her symptoms won't die down. Even when they do, they start to rise again.
By James Tucker4 years ago in Fiction
