A New Journey Begins Everyday

I've finally finished most of what I wanted to rewrite.

!Click here for the first chapter!

Here's the second chapter:

Later that day, police were everywhere searching for me.

“My father must have reported my mother’s death soon after I left,” I thought, when I saw a police officer stood outside my house. It could have been self-defence, yet I once held the blade that killed my mother nonetheless, therefore I decided to run.

I somehow avoided the police for five days after my mother’s death, yet on the fifth, “Stop right there,” said a police officer behind me, in a strong, stern voice. “There is no use in running. You are being arrested for the suspected murder of your mother.” Other police officers came to the scene. I arose from the bench of which I slept on the night before and they said the ‘you have a right to remain silent’ rights.

I thought they would not find me, as I kept moving from one place to another. To avoid detection, I wore a hoodie I had managed to steal from a shop one day. Yet all my efforts to stay out of being caught were now meaningless.

They took me to the hospital first, as my wound had not healed and was beginning to get infected. I had several stitches sowed into my right arm. The wound was cleaned, yet the pain remained even after taking several pain killers.

Later that day however, they took me to the police station. I came quietly all the way and I continued to be silent until I was asked questions. When they walked me to the jail cell, I didn’t retaliate. I could do nothing, except await my trial.

A month late my trial date arrived.

“Out,” said a voice from outside the door of my jail cell. The door opened and I did as I was instructed. I was offered a lawyer, of which I accepted, as I couldn’t do anything else, yet he did not help my case.

They told me that they found a knife with both mine and my mother’s blood on it. They came to the conclusion that I killed her. The trial was, in my opinion, unjustified, and I was sent down for eight years give or take. They said it was called 'life custody' and that I had to remain in jail until I was eighteen; in other words an adult. I couldn’t see a way out and tried to accept my new life in the cell. Needless to say, I cried most days – out of depression and confusion.

Days passed, and I was moved to many different places. The wound had not healed; in fact it had gotten worse. It repeatedly reopened and ripped the stitches apart regularly. My arm seemingly smelled like rotting flesh and had started to feel unlike my own - even more so as the days went by. The pain was almost unbearable and made me feel very angry and hostile towards others.

“I have to get out of here,” I thought to myself. “Before I hurt someone.” I started to make a plan - with a plastic fork I was given. I pressed the fork into my food and started to think. “How can a kid break out of a prison?”

A day after, my infected arm fell limp. As it was my right arm and therefore my right hand - my writing hand - I had to try to use my left to write, which was harder than I first thought. I had noticed that day that my nails on my right hand were much thicker and harder than the nail’s on my left hand.

I touched my right index finger with my left forefinger. It felt so sharp, that I nearly cut my other finger, and so, I pulled it away in shock. The nail was also even thicker and more durable than it looked. I slowly stroked my left hand down my right arm and stopped at the forearm; it too had changed. It felt so much harder and looked more toned than days before that day. It felt so smooth to the touch. I continued to repeatedly stroke it, but I quickly stopped, after I realised what I was doing.

“What’s happening to me?” I thought. I had been focussed on the pain from the wound so much, that I did not even notice that my whole right arm seemed to be infected with increased symptoms, or was changing in some mysterious way. Then it came to me; if my arm appeared to be more muscular, “What if I’m stronger?” I stared at my arm trying to get it to move in any way possible.

Several minutes later; my little finger twitched. Each digit after my little finger twitched, one after the other. Soon, I was able to clench and move my hand. With even more focus, I was able to regain control of my entire right arm again. It was as if I had it cut off and now it had been reattached. It felt like my own arm again.

I turned over on the bed I laid upon and pulled myself up with just my right arm. I stayed there, in a press up position, for five minutes and performed several one handed press-ups.

“How is it that someone as skinny and usually as weak as me can do one handed press-ups?” I contemplated.

After the realisation of my new found strength, my arm began to change even more and more rapidly. It began to become hairy and even more muscular. The wound was now closed and healing normally, yet the infection seemed to be developing.

How did I ever cover this up? Well one day that question was put to the test. On this day, a police officer came into my cell to inspect the room.

“Stand back you two,” he said. He was referring to me and my cell mate, who was rocking in a sitting position, in the corner of the room. He usually never spoke, yet this was the first time to show any signs of him losing his sanity. The police officer entered the cell and stared at my arm. He waited for an excuse or reason for my arm being as big as it was.

“I do lots of one handed press-ups,” I said, with a smile.

“But it’s hairier than your other arm, isn’t it?” He questioned. I shook my head, and said, “It's the light.” The policeman shook his head, and then said, “No it's definitely not the light. It’s thicker than your other arm too. Just what have you been doing in here?” he said raising one eyebrow in an inquisitive manner. “You’re a weird kid.”

“That's a good way to speak to a troubled child,” I replied. A moment after, the police-officer left my cell with a smirk on his face.

“Stay away from cell three boys!” the police officer said, everyone in the neighbouring cells laughed.

“I like a sassy boy,” said the man in the corner. “I'm sorry, I miss my son.” I stood, stared at him and slowly started to walk backwards.

“I like men who don't talk,” I said, more scared than I sounded. The man didn't say anything. He got to his feet and started to walk towards me.

“What are you in for?” he said. “I have never asked before.”

“The same as what I'm going to stay in for, if you don't back the fuck off!” I shouted, with the last few words louder than the first. There were now noises coming from the other cells, as if the people inside them were moving closer to the walls; trying to listen in on our conversation.

The guy walked closer to me and I tensed my arm muscles. I clenched my fists ready to strike. He licked his lips as strangely as my mother did, yet I don’t think he was a werewolf. He wouldn't have been locked up in the cell with me if he was, for one… I think. Yet I did not wait to find out, the full-moon was fast approaching and so was the man himself.

“I only want to talk to you,” he said. “Please sit here.” I punched him as soon as he got close enough, and to my surprise, he flew into the wall opposite, with astounding force and speed. A loud bang later, his head began to bleed from the back and trickled down the cell wall.

Moments passed and I sat in shock. I was quite sure that he was dead as he was no longer moving in the slightest.

“Another, dead because of me?” I remember thinking. Even though I was sure he did 'only want to talk' to me, I did not want to talk to him. Yet I killed him. Self-defence wasn't on my side this time. “I am an animal. A savage beast.”

I sat in the opposite corner of the dead man, who once mourned over the loss of his son, in the corner diagonally right. I tried to forget what I had done and found myself rocking back and forth, exactly like the man had done earlier. I remember thinking, “This is a feeling of misery, regret and uncertainty. I'm going crazy.”

The night of that day was different to any other night I had awoken at odd hours on. It was a full-moon, yet this did not affect me before. As the moonlight settled on my face, the pain from my arm intensified briefly. I awoke, in the same position that I had been in for hours, due to the pain in my arm. Then the pain shot through my entire arm and up towards my chest. My left arm and then both of my legs, burned in pain.

I tried to get to my feet, but couldn't stand as my feet seemingly started to grow and sprout hair through my then tightening shoes. My top began to rip, and my arms felt like they could have fizzled away due to the fiery pain. The pain became so unbearable that my body shut down and I became unconscious.

When I awoke, I looked at myself and saw that my right arm was even hairier than before and a much darker shade of black. I looked at my left arm and to my astonishment it too was equally as hairy and muscular. My feet and the rest of my body had expanded. Ripped and torn parts of my clothing had dug into me and left behind red marks and cuts on my body.

The belt I had worn would have snapped if I was wearing it, yet it was taken off of me the first day of my jail sentence. I could not believe what was happening; was I a full werewolf now? Little did I know, I did not have the full strength of a werewolf, yet I had enough for what I needed.

My senses had been heightened. Even my sight, especially in the dark, had improved. I jumped to my feet and thought of the best route out of the jail. I looked down at my furry hands. My knuckles were thick and hard. My nails were now like claws. The palms of my hands were warm and furry.

I pent up all my strength and punched the metal door of the jail cell. With a huge amount of pain from hitting the door, it fell off its hinges. With an almighty bang it hit the floor. I sprinted down the hall and headed towards the entrance to the jail I had come in through all those days ago. There stood several police-officers. I let out a deafening howl and all but one of them cowered in fright.

The other police-officer stood petrified for seconds; the time it took me to reach where he stood. I had an overwhelming urge to kill him, yet I managed to release that anger by concentrating it on his face. I scratched him in the cheek with three of my claws, leaving three deep and bloody cuts in his cheek. The blood streamed down his face, as he tried to block the downpour of blood with his hand.

“There's something to remember me by,” I said, with a strange, low-toned, growl-like voice. I opened the door I had once entered the police station through and headed through it.

Outside, were two people. One person was bent over in front of the other. The one standing up had a truncheon and was hitting the other on her bare arse. The female police-officer saw me, shrieked and fell onto the floor, supporting herself with her hands.

“I didn't hit you that hard… yet,” the other said, spanking her with the truncheon again. I disappeared into the shadows, laughed quietly to myself and waited to see what she said.

“I thought I saw a…” she started to say. “Oh never mind.”

One of the officers from inside the jail ran outside. The officers on their 'break' jumped and quickly tried to put their clothes back on.

“We… we really should be doing this somewhere else,” the man suggested. The woman nodded in agreement.

“Never mind that, did you see a…” the officer with three scratches on his cheek started to say, stopping himself from saying anything else.

“See what Jim?” the now flaccid-state man asked. “What happened to your face?”

“The werewolf!” The scarred man said. “You didn't see it?!”

“That's what I thought I saw too,” said the policewoman.

“Seriously guys. Jim, you let a prisoner out of his sell and lost him again, didn't you?” said the other officer.

“No!” the bleeding officer said. “He got out himself. Go ask the others. They’re most likely on the floor pissing themselves still, and that's not laughing, by the way. I'm serious, there was someone dressed as a really realistic werewolf.” The other officer shook his head and said, in a disappointed kind of tone, “You lot are crazy, stop winding me up.” I sniggered and walked off, through the shadows.

I continued through the shadows avoiding as many people as possible - making my way to the river; where the dagger laid untouched and unblemished, covered by a sturdy rock. I removed the rock on top of the knife, picked the knife up and placed it between my teeth, which were now the size of a small child's finger. I then dived, head-first, into the freezing cold river water and started to swim down.

At the very bottom of the river was a pipe.

“Please lead to the sea, please,” I thought. I swam back to the riverbed to rest awhile. Then I began to swim again and headed on through the pipe. The pipe was the entrance to a long passage of pipes which were filled with murky water, with green, moss-like algae, yet I knew I could make it if I just continued to swim.

As I emerged at the other end of the pipes, I saw a shimmering light above, rippling on the surface of the water. Running out of air, I swam as fast as I could, towards the light. As my head passed through the water, and penetrated the air, I could breathe again. Luckily, the pipes had led me to a place a mile from a beach, where I could rest for the time being.

Later that day, I realised what the writing on the dagger was written in; it was in Japanese. Therefore, Japan was my next destination. The impractical thing was the idea of a ten year old boy, who had seemingly turned into a werewolf overnight, being able to board a ferry or plane, and for free - as I obviously had no money. The only other option was to somehow swim the entire way and walk when needed.

I rested and continued to head east, hoping there was another way, yet even as time passed, my stamina did not waver in the slightest, therefore I did not stop until it was completely necessary. I knew that Japan was east and which way was east, yet not how far it really was. The moonlight continued to rest gently on my face throughout the rest of the night; my forever faithful friend. I knew that I could make it in the many days to come.

So, I was thinking of starting a new series of videos for teaching Japanese as well as English. The style will be different to how I will actually teach English privately, but are for personal study use :D

Here is what I have so far:

Japanese Verbs (1)｛脂ぎる（あぶらぎる aburagiru）、上げる（あげる ageru）、開ける（あける akeru）、開く（あく aku）、仰ぐ（あおぐ aogu）、洗う（あらう arau）｝
脂ぎる　あぶらぎる　To become greasy, to become oily; to be loud and garish
上げる　あげる　To increase, raise, give　
開ける　あける　To open
空ける　あける　Empty
明ける　あける　Dawn
開く　あく・ひらく　To open, become vacant
仰ぐ　あおぐ　To look up, to ask somebody
扇ぐ　あおぐ　To gaze, stare
洗う　あらう　To wash
http://youtu.be/XrFnGa3gI7M

Japanese Verbs (2) ｛有る（ある aru）、歩く（あるく aruku）、焦る（あせる aseru）、遊ぶ（あそぶ asobu）、暖まる（あたたまる atatamaru）｝
―有る　ある　To have, exist
―歩く　あるく　To walk, step
―焦る　あせる　To hurry, rush, hasty, eager, impatient,
―遊ぶ　あそぶ　To play, be idle
―暖まる　あたたまる　To get warm, warm up, be warmed, warm oneself
温まる　あたたまる　To get warm, warm up, be warmed, warm oneself
http://youtu.be/xa2WMJaGKNc

Japanese Verbs (3) ｛集まる（あつまる atsumaru）、会う（あう au）、慌てる（あわてる awateru）、嘲る（あざける azakeru）、びびる bibiru、ぶつかる butsukaru｝
集まる　あつまる　To gather, assemble　集める　あつめる　To gather, collect
会う　あう　To meet
慌てる　あわてる　To panic
嘲る　あざける　To mock, ridicule, make fun of
びびる　To be nervous, daunted by something, get cold feet
ぶつかる To hit, collide with, clash ぶつける　To hit against, throw at
http://youtu.be/CYnIJN5ZthA

Japanese Verbs (4) ｛違う（ちがう chigau）、契る（ちぎる chigiru）、散る（ちる chiru）、駄弁る（だべる daberu）、抱く（だく daku）、黙る（だまる damaru）｝
違う　ちがう　To be different, wrong
契る　ちぎる　To promise, vow, pledge
散る　ちる　To scatter, fall
駄弁る　だべる　To chatter, chat, talk idly
抱く　だく　To hug, embrace
黙る　だまる　To stop talking
http://youtu.be/iXvRhujIY-c

絶対に見てください＾＿＾

A New Journey Begins Everyday

Pages

Friday 25 July 2014

Video - Newest Book Trailers

Video - Learning Japanese? New Japanese Videos for Japanese Learners (Update)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XrFnGa3gI7M&list=PLB0VZvtTuUrCKZ_dqvDTtXuQ_sZXCs7EV

↑Here is the new playlist for Japanese verbs audio videos.

Thursday 24 July 2014

Book - Children's, teen... The Flightless Dragon... A universal wonder.

Book - Y.A/Adult Action Adventure and Horror Novel Now Available

Wednesday 23 July 2014

Book - Rewrite (Update 1)

Video - Learning Japanese? New Japanese Videos for Japanese Learners

Tuesday 22 July 2014

Interesting - Japan related News (Blue blue, nuclear energy, selling weapons, losing out on budgets and pretty plants)