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COURTNL11 NEKOWOLF WRITING CONTEST ENTRY TOPIC 1
CourtNL11
Posts: 4,329
This is my entry of NekoWolf7's writing contest.
The link to all of the other competitor, and rules are here: http://forum.thesims3.com/jforum/posts/list/201261.page
Topic/Challenge Name and Number: Topic 1: A Strange Call
Title of Story: New addition
The shrill chimes of Trace Noonan’s alarm clock shook his whole room as he bolted up with a newfound energy from his uneasy slumber. He took one glance at the clock, saw that the time was 6:55 and cursed under his breath. First period started in twenty minutes and it took him at least fifteen to get to his school. Another tardy, and Trace would receive a detention, missing basketball practice, and risk being benched next game, something he could not handle.
He jumped out of bed with quickness and grabbed the first piece of clothing he saw on the floor. He threw on a wrinkled pair of jeans and a stained, crumpled t-shirt he saw balled up in the corner. He could hear his mother shouting from downstairs, “Trace! You’ll be late!”
The smell of bacon wafted into his room as he quickly brushed his teeth while desperately trying to put on socks and pants at the same time. He scrambled around his cluttered room, which was beginning to smell like moldy pizza and sweat, searching frantically for his homework.
While rushing back and forth, he passed a framed picture of himself with a young girl in a cheerleader’s uniform. She was pretty, and her wavy brown hair perfectly coordinated with Trace’s short, sandy colored hair. Her green eyes shimmered with confidence and his arm was draped over her shoulder in a manner that said, “She’s mine.”
Finally getting all of his belongings together, Trace ran downstairs with heavy steps, his book bag flying behind him. He grabbed a piece of bacon and flew past his mother sitting by the kitchen phone with one hand over the speaker. “Trace, phone,” she called as soon as he had reached the door, “its Rachel, honey.”
He snatched the phone from his mother and answered a gruff, “Hello,” sounding a bit irritated.
“Y-you didn’t answer your cell.” Came a voice from the other end. It was Rachel Griffin, Trace’s longtime girl-friend and the girl in the picture in his room. Her voice sounded distant and she stammered a bit.
“Rach, can’t this wait till school?!”
“. . .No. T-Trace. We need to talk.” Her voice sounded weak. He waited, impatiently tapping his foot as she built up courage to speak on the other end.
“Do you remember . . . that night? The-the night a couple weeks ago?”
Feeling annoyed at her vagueness, Trace rudely replied, “Rachel, how the hell am I supposed to know ‘that night’? Be more specific!”
She sighed deeply into the phone, and Trace could hear her soft whimpers. Then, she mumbled softly into the phone, “It broke.”
Still feeling annoyed, Trace slowly replied, “What broke?”
There was a long pause from both ends, and Trace could hear the steady, yet nervous breaths coming from Rachel, “Trace,” she finally began, “I’m, I’m . . . pregnant.”
Trace became silent. His mind suddenly became overloaded with different thoughts and feelings, and suddenly school didn’t seem so important. His backpack suddenly dropped to the floor with a heavy thud. He slid to the floor, mouth agape and speechless. His mother looked over to him, immediately concerned, “Trace, what’s wrong?”
A single teardrop emerged from his eye, and ran a line down his cheek. He broke out in a cold sweat, and his hands began to shake hysterically. Then, Rachel repeated herself, “Trace, I’m pregnant.”
The link to all of the other competitor, and rules are here: http://forum.thesims3.com/jforum/posts/list/201261.page
Topic/Challenge Name and Number: Topic 1: A Strange Call
Title of Story: New addition
The shrill chimes of Trace Noonan’s alarm clock shook his whole room as he bolted up with a newfound energy from his uneasy slumber. He took one glance at the clock, saw that the time was 6:55 and cursed under his breath. First period started in twenty minutes and it took him at least fifteen to get to his school. Another tardy, and Trace would receive a detention, missing basketball practice, and risk being benched next game, something he could not handle.
He jumped out of bed with quickness and grabbed the first piece of clothing he saw on the floor. He threw on a wrinkled pair of jeans and a stained, crumpled t-shirt he saw balled up in the corner. He could hear his mother shouting from downstairs, “Trace! You’ll be late!”
The smell of bacon wafted into his room as he quickly brushed his teeth while desperately trying to put on socks and pants at the same time. He scrambled around his cluttered room, which was beginning to smell like moldy pizza and sweat, searching frantically for his homework.
While rushing back and forth, he passed a framed picture of himself with a young girl in a cheerleader’s uniform. She was pretty, and her wavy brown hair perfectly coordinated with Trace’s short, sandy colored hair. Her green eyes shimmered with confidence and his arm was draped over her shoulder in a manner that said, “She’s mine.”
Finally getting all of his belongings together, Trace ran downstairs with heavy steps, his book bag flying behind him. He grabbed a piece of bacon and flew past his mother sitting by the kitchen phone with one hand over the speaker. “Trace, phone,” she called as soon as he had reached the door, “its Rachel, honey.”
He snatched the phone from his mother and answered a gruff, “Hello,” sounding a bit irritated.
“Y-you didn’t answer your cell.” Came a voice from the other end. It was Rachel Griffin, Trace’s longtime girl-friend and the girl in the picture in his room. Her voice sounded distant and she stammered a bit.
“Rach, can’t this wait till school?!”
“. . .No. T-Trace. We need to talk.” Her voice sounded weak. He waited, impatiently tapping his foot as she built up courage to speak on the other end.
“Do you remember . . . that night? The-the night a couple weeks ago?”
Feeling annoyed at her vagueness, Trace rudely replied, “Rachel, how the hell am I supposed to know ‘that night’? Be more specific!”
She sighed deeply into the phone, and Trace could hear her soft whimpers. Then, she mumbled softly into the phone, “It broke.”
Still feeling annoyed, Trace slowly replied, “What broke?”
There was a long pause from both ends, and Trace could hear the steady, yet nervous breaths coming from Rachel, “Trace,” she finally began, “I’m, I’m . . . pregnant.”
Trace became silent. His mind suddenly became overloaded with different thoughts and feelings, and suddenly school didn’t seem so important. His backpack suddenly dropped to the floor with a heavy thud. He slid to the floor, mouth agape and speechless. His mother looked over to him, immediately concerned, “Trace, what’s wrong?”
A single teardrop emerged from his eye, and ran a line down his cheek. He broke out in a cold sweat, and his hands began to shake hysterically. Then, Rachel repeated herself, “Trace, I’m pregnant.”
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