Post by eli daniel ackerman on Aug 31, 2010 1:13:05 GMT
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ELIJAH DANIEL ACKERMAN ,,
eli. seventeen. sixth form. heterosexual. nicolas bemberg.
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"What do I like? Well, I can, will, and have drooled over a car before, and often put myself into dangerous situations to do so. Examples include walking across a busy street in a trance-like-state, walking into poles, spontaneously turning away from a now-ex girlfriend's "serious" conversation... Because I love cars. It takes me forever to walk through a parking lot, because I'm always stopping to admire a paint job or something. However, should the car I'm driving break down somewhere, I couldn't do shit to fix it. I can drive cars like nobody's business, I'm friends with the pedals, but the engine is a mere acquaintance. But I like driving fast cars, which may make me seem like a cool guy. I hate to destroy that image of myself, but... I'm a comic book nerd. Two crates full of them hidden in my closet for those fateful days where I remained bored. While packing for my journey to a new town, these two crates were the first things in the trunk of my car. I like the sun, and warm weather, and the season of summer, but you can count on me spending at least a little bit of the day inside reading through some of the old comic books. This is kind of contradictory to my number one passion in life: running. I run at least ten miles every day. Why, you ask? Allow me to explain. There are very few things in this world that 1. I am totally awesome at, and 2. I'm awesome enough to brag about. Running is one of these things, if not the only thing, that fits in both categories. Can you run a mile in three minutes and twenty three seconds? Funny, cause I can. That's what my feet are usually doing, but I'm also a bit of a dancer. Not ballet or anything like that, the fast-paced stuff, like salsa dancing. I don't mind ballet, though, watching it, I mean. It makes a good photo if you catch it at the right moment. That's what was second in my car; my camera. I worked hours slaving away at the local coffee shop to pay for it. Top of the line, hummingbird quick shutter speed, it's probably my only hobby. However, I connect it to other things. Such as flirting. I see a cute girl, grab my camera, tell her she'd look great on film, take a picture of her, and say she looks fantastic, but she's even more stunning in person. Okay, I've used that line more than once, I'm a bit of a flirt. But, hey, it can be a useful skill to have sometimes. A fun skill, too. Of course, one of the only reasons I frequently get to practice this skill is Duncan. Sadly enough, Duncan, my trusty border collie, was third into my car. I love dogs, and from what I can tell, they love me. They're kind of idiotic animals, yes, but they've got the best sense of gut-feeling out of any creature I've ever seen, and I can really respect that. Right after Duncan was my collection of CDs/records. I have nothing to play them with, but so long as I still have them, I'm content. Music is probably my second passion in life. I haven't been gifted with the ability to make music, so I settle for listening to it."It" sounds very general, but in this case it's supposed to be general: I'll listen to almost anything. Classical puts me to sleep, and country tends to circle around the same thing (significant others, or someone who wants an attractive special someone to be their significant other...), so those are my two exceptions. Otherwise, my ears are wide open, I'll hear it all. What else do I like? Here's a quick little list: The sky: it's such a huge inspiration, and there's always something to look at. Night: the best time of a 24-hour schedule. Cigarettes: bad for me? Tell me about it. But I promise it's not a habit. Fire: I'm a bit of a pyromaniac... Making people (especially girls and kids) laugh. Trouble: if it doesn't find me I go looking. This is a subconscious habit. Except I know about it, and do nothing to stop it. Because, frankly, I don't want to.
And the dislikes? Bad drivers piss me off more than anything in this entire world. There's a difference between drifting on purpose, me, and doing something irresponsible and dangerous by accident, anyone else who doesn't know what they're doing when they get into the driver's seat. What I do? It's fun, exhilarating, and halfway safe. Except when it snows, but I don't really like the snow either. Or the entire season of winter, for that matter. Too many people stay inside, and it's too quiet. Silence, I hate silence, I always feel like I should be the one to say something, and end up filling in with something moronic. For some strange reason, there will forever be an awkward silence when a cat is in the same room as me. I tell that to people, they think I'm crazy, but it happens! And I don't like cats, too independent, too stalkerish. That little trait emerged from when I was a kid, and the neighbor's grungy cats ate a garden snake that had somehow gotten into the building. Right in the middle of the lobby, it was repulsive. But then again, I disliked snakes since then, too. The cats would eat a snake, of all things, but they wouldn't go near the mice that always got into the cereal (which I also don't like, cereal, not mice.). That apartment was whack... And because I lived in that apartment building, I've always hated giant houses, and mansions, and generally oversized property. Of course, I ended up living in one with Dan, but I still strongly disliked it. I refuse to talk about someone behind their back, even if they're the type to talk about me. Gossip is a girl thing, and I will not partake in it. And secrets, too. I don't like them, mainly because I can't keep any except my own, which makes me feel selfish, also which I don't like, but now I'm getting generic... I dislike rabbits' ears. I don't know why, and never have, I just don't. Seafood makes me sick, especially shrimp, and I randomly have always hated flying fish. I mean, seriously? You can't breathe underwater and fly. You can pick one.
I'm scared of drowning, above all things. God, even the word freaks me out. I don't think I have to explain myself, but... 1. I was never a great swimmer, and 2. Imagine this: you're caught, underwater, it's dark, you can't see, you can't breath, and you're fighting for breath, consciousness, and life simaltaniously. Spiders creep me out, as they would any sane person. And snakes, ever since the cats and the apartment building and the... yeah... I'm not really scared of the dark, but more what I can't see in it. I guess you could count stickers, because they really do creep me out... Or was that too weird to say? God, why do I always say weird stuff...
I guess you could say I have a few goals in life. First and foremost: move out of this place, back to Detroit. If at all possible, I'd love to be one of the few photographers who makes money. And in all honesty, within fifteen years I'd love to find the love of my life and travel the world together, with every intention of having kids. We'd a nice little family with a picket fence and a dog and all that jazz... But all of this takes place somewhere in a city more known to me. That's where I forsee dreams happening.
Quirks are what make us human, as weird as they are. I take stairs two at a time, going up and down. I always take my left shoe off first, and put on the right first. Always. When I'm super bored, I find someone to make an observation of, and list off as many synonyms as I can. I also tend to make a mental note of what two people would be a good couple, strangers or not. Oh, here's a weird one: I'm terrified of stickers. I won't even wear a nametag that doesn't clip on. If I'm about to write something I have to tap my pen/cil three times. Sometimes I do so in a three-beat rhythm even if I'm not writing something. I snap when I walk, tap my foot without music and refuse to drive somewhere without something playing in the background. Not to mention any volume level has to be at an odd number when I'm around. But perhaps my most annoying quirk is that I can't have two foods touching while I'm eating. Trust me, the list goes on...
Secrets? We've all got them. I kinda rebooted my whole life with this whole move to a small town thing, so I really don't have many secrets. I suppose I'm keeping my past on the down low, does that count as a secret? I don't know who my dad is, sure, I hate my stepdad, not really a secret but whatever. Sometimes I feel the need to sleep in my neighbor's toolshed because of said stepdad, I guess I can share that. Not good enough? Alright. Fine. I, Elijah Daniel Ackerman, have seen the widely-acclaimed 'The Notebook.' Twice. Still not good enough? I loved it both times."
And the dislikes? Bad drivers piss me off more than anything in this entire world. There's a difference between drifting on purpose, me, and doing something irresponsible and dangerous by accident, anyone else who doesn't know what they're doing when they get into the driver's seat. What I do? It's fun, exhilarating, and halfway safe. Except when it snows, but I don't really like the snow either. Or the entire season of winter, for that matter. Too many people stay inside, and it's too quiet. Silence, I hate silence, I always feel like I should be the one to say something, and end up filling in with something moronic. For some strange reason, there will forever be an awkward silence when a cat is in the same room as me. I tell that to people, they think I'm crazy, but it happens! And I don't like cats, too independent, too stalkerish. That little trait emerged from when I was a kid, and the neighbor's grungy cats ate a garden snake that had somehow gotten into the building. Right in the middle of the lobby, it was repulsive. But then again, I disliked snakes since then, too. The cats would eat a snake, of all things, but they wouldn't go near the mice that always got into the cereal (which I also don't like, cereal, not mice.). That apartment was whack... And because I lived in that apartment building, I've always hated giant houses, and mansions, and generally oversized property. Of course, I ended up living in one with Dan, but I still strongly disliked it. I refuse to talk about someone behind their back, even if they're the type to talk about me. Gossip is a girl thing, and I will not partake in it. And secrets, too. I don't like them, mainly because I can't keep any except my own, which makes me feel selfish, also which I don't like, but now I'm getting generic... I dislike rabbits' ears. I don't know why, and never have, I just don't. Seafood makes me sick, especially shrimp, and I randomly have always hated flying fish. I mean, seriously? You can't breathe underwater and fly. You can pick one.
I'm scared of drowning, above all things. God, even the word freaks me out. I don't think I have to explain myself, but... 1. I was never a great swimmer, and 2. Imagine this: you're caught, underwater, it's dark, you can't see, you can't breath, and you're fighting for breath, consciousness, and life simaltaniously. Spiders creep me out, as they would any sane person. And snakes, ever since the cats and the apartment building and the... yeah... I'm not really scared of the dark, but more what I can't see in it. I guess you could count stickers, because they really do creep me out... Or was that too weird to say? God, why do I always say weird stuff...
I guess you could say I have a few goals in life. First and foremost: move out of this place, back to Detroit. If at all possible, I'd love to be one of the few photographers who makes money. And in all honesty, within fifteen years I'd love to find the love of my life and travel the world together, with every intention of having kids. We'd a nice little family with a picket fence and a dog and all that jazz... But all of this takes place somewhere in a city more known to me. That's where I forsee dreams happening.
Quirks are what make us human, as weird as they are. I take stairs two at a time, going up and down. I always take my left shoe off first, and put on the right first. Always. When I'm super bored, I find someone to make an observation of, and list off as many synonyms as I can. I also tend to make a mental note of what two people would be a good couple, strangers or not. Oh, here's a weird one: I'm terrified of stickers. I won't even wear a nametag that doesn't clip on. If I'm about to write something I have to tap my pen/cil three times. Sometimes I do so in a three-beat rhythm even if I'm not writing something. I snap when I walk, tap my foot without music and refuse to drive somewhere without something playing in the background. Not to mention any volume level has to be at an odd number when I'm around. But perhaps my most annoying quirk is that I can't have two foods touching while I'm eating. Trust me, the list goes on...
Secrets? We've all got them. I kinda rebooted my whole life with this whole move to a small town thing, so I really don't have many secrets. I suppose I'm keeping my past on the down low, does that count as a secret? I don't know who my dad is, sure, I hate my stepdad, not really a secret but whatever. Sometimes I feel the need to sleep in my neighbor's toolshed because of said stepdad, I guess I can share that. Not good enough? Alright. Fine. I, Elijah Daniel Ackerman, have seen the widely-acclaimed 'The Notebook.' Twice. Still not good enough? I loved it both times."
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"Technically, I'm the second Elijah Ackerman. My dad is the first. I've never met him. I've only seen him in pictures, when he was my age. But nowadays he's about thirty seven, thirty eight. He's a big businessman of some sort living in Ohio. As for my mom, she's named Shannon Wells-Barkham. As much as I wish there was no hyphenated last name, there is. She's eighteen years older than me, which means she could be my sister. But she's not. She's definately a mom. A great mom for the most part. Yeah, she remarried an asshole who moved us across the planet, but everyone has a lapse in judgement for the most part. She's an accountant right now, but I get a feeling she doesn't like that job very much. She won't show it, but she's the one who taught me how to go through life showing only the emotions I really want people to see. Maybe it's because we were living on our own for so long, I think I've developed a sort of intuition that lets me know what she's really up to. We've always been close like that. Thanks to the circumstances of my birth, I am an only child. I wish I had siblings. Specifically, I wish I had a little sister. In all those movies, there's always an older brother who tends to the younger sister. I always wished it was me. But I guess I'll settle for the next best thing: a dog. He's a border collie named Duncan, and he means business."
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"Technically, I'm a local now, as I won't be moving away for quite a while. I'm enrolled in the school system here, and because this is on the other side of the pond, it's not something that I can ditch easily when I turn eighteen. Yep, I'll probably end up going to college here and everything, making me a local. But, can we just call me an exchange student, just for now? I'd rather make it seem like I'm going back sometime..."
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Shannon Wells, Eli's mother came from a family with seven children. She was right in the middle of them all, with three younger and three older siblings. Though neither of her parents were particularly rich, they managed to support them all up until the oldest was ready for college. Though expensive, and requiring many sacrifices, the three oldest made it through without any problem. Once Eli's mother was eighteen she made a decision to not make her parents forfeit their money, and would stay around for a bit more to help out the family. She got a job as a waitress and, while donating a portion of her paycheck to her family when needed, she began a long-term piggybank.
His father, the original Eli Ackerman, on the other hand, came from a high class family with more money than needed to be successful. If they wanted to they could send each one of Eli's mother's siblings to college and have enough left over to buy a decent sized house and new furniture. Unlike the other family, they had only one child. He had gone to a private school all his life, and by high school he despised the harsh teachings with a passion. He became what would be considered a complete rebel in the private academies, but average in the public-school world. Due to grades that stooped at 'low' levels he attended a college that his parents didn't approve of, one that was much lower than their standards. He ended up going to the same college as Eli's mother's oldest brother. The two became great friends, and once the brother invited him to stay with him back at home one summer.
That summer, Eli’s parents fell in love. His father was only twenty-one, and his mother just turned eighteen, so their siblings and parents figured it wouldn’t go anywhere. And it didn’t. After the summer ended the two split… until Eli’s father got word that the pregnancy test came back positive. After much contemplation, a message was returned asking for the girl’s hand in marriage. Eli’s father didn’t tell his to-be bride about her brother’s, his friend’s, reaction to the test, as it had obviously affected his decision.
But that fact became obvious when his father never showed at the day of the ceremony. Eli was born a matter of months later, and despite his grandparents’ wishes, named after his runaway father: Elijah. For he wasn’t at all a bad man, knowing that his mother had been short on both education and money, he had pulled a few strings with people he knew and gotten her interviews, and the jobs were enough to get her and her newborn child a house of their own, while her own parents attempted to push the rest of their children towards the future.
Eli’s first many years were spent in a crummy neighborhood, where there were three heavy-duty locks on the steel doors that were used daily. As the only parental figure, Eli grew rather attached to his mother, as even at a young age he understood the trouble she had gone through to keep him. The lack of luxury proved to keep the two close, and made Eli very independent and aware of himself. Even when they had to break into that long-term piggy bank, they found comfort in the small, simple things. Though sometimes the boy got curious, and would ask about his father. His mother was calm and fair in answering, and after a moment would respectively say “He was a good man caught in a bad situation.”
Of course, the events of the world got in the way of his life, and until he was in his teenaged years, his small family was suffering from the hunger and the cold and the effects of the new world. Fortunately, they found a very timely savior. Eli was fourteen when Dan arrived in his life. It was an arrival he didn’t look forward to, despite the situation he was in. As a fairly attractive woman, Eli often knew his mother went on dates, and thankfully she didn't let the events of the world sabotage her social life. However, the news that those dates weren’t with separate men came as a bit of a surprise, as did the new ring on her finger, the size of the gem was a hint at how much money the fiancée had in the bank. And for a second Eli considered whether this was about love or money. But time told it was about love.
Love for each other, and not really Eli.He didn’t dislike Dan as a person. He hated Dan. Sure, he had an incredibly nice house compared to the run-down apartment, and he was truly in this whole marriage thing until the end, but he was in it for Eli’s mother, Eli was just extra baggage. And that much was made clear day in and day out. His mother became aware of this, and though she wasn't going to do anything about it, decided to soften the blow by getting Eli a dog, a luxury that was previously unavaliable. However, this caused even more trouble. Dan didn't dislike the animal as a pet. Dan hated dogs. After a year Eli had found that nothing had changed, but merely gotten worse. Still, he and his mother needed this; they couldn’t try to tough it out by themselves again.
And so, before he knew, Dan had moved the small family to their current residence: to a little old place by the name of Cornwall, England, to a large house just outside the city, and to the local high school. That's right, he moved them all the way across the world. From America to England. It's been two months since then, and Eli still hasn't found his place in the social scene. Sure, he's found people who have given him a place in the social scene. He lives the high life, with the nice car, luxury, big house... But really all of it is new and uncomfortable, having lived all his life in the not-so-great social class. To the day, he remains lost.
His father, the original Eli Ackerman, on the other hand, came from a high class family with more money than needed to be successful. If they wanted to they could send each one of Eli's mother's siblings to college and have enough left over to buy a decent sized house and new furniture. Unlike the other family, they had only one child. He had gone to a private school all his life, and by high school he despised the harsh teachings with a passion. He became what would be considered a complete rebel in the private academies, but average in the public-school world. Due to grades that stooped at 'low' levels he attended a college that his parents didn't approve of, one that was much lower than their standards. He ended up going to the same college as Eli's mother's oldest brother. The two became great friends, and once the brother invited him to stay with him back at home one summer.
That summer, Eli’s parents fell in love. His father was only twenty-one, and his mother just turned eighteen, so their siblings and parents figured it wouldn’t go anywhere. And it didn’t. After the summer ended the two split… until Eli’s father got word that the pregnancy test came back positive. After much contemplation, a message was returned asking for the girl’s hand in marriage. Eli’s father didn’t tell his to-be bride about her brother’s, his friend’s, reaction to the test, as it had obviously affected his decision.
But that fact became obvious when his father never showed at the day of the ceremony. Eli was born a matter of months later, and despite his grandparents’ wishes, named after his runaway father: Elijah. For he wasn’t at all a bad man, knowing that his mother had been short on both education and money, he had pulled a few strings with people he knew and gotten her interviews, and the jobs were enough to get her and her newborn child a house of their own, while her own parents attempted to push the rest of their children towards the future.
Eli’s first many years were spent in a crummy neighborhood, where there were three heavy-duty locks on the steel doors that were used daily. As the only parental figure, Eli grew rather attached to his mother, as even at a young age he understood the trouble she had gone through to keep him. The lack of luxury proved to keep the two close, and made Eli very independent and aware of himself. Even when they had to break into that long-term piggy bank, they found comfort in the small, simple things. Though sometimes the boy got curious, and would ask about his father. His mother was calm and fair in answering, and after a moment would respectively say “He was a good man caught in a bad situation.”
Of course, the events of the world got in the way of his life, and until he was in his teenaged years, his small family was suffering from the hunger and the cold and the effects of the new world. Fortunately, they found a very timely savior. Eli was fourteen when Dan arrived in his life. It was an arrival he didn’t look forward to, despite the situation he was in. As a fairly attractive woman, Eli often knew his mother went on dates, and thankfully she didn't let the events of the world sabotage her social life. However, the news that those dates weren’t with separate men came as a bit of a surprise, as did the new ring on her finger, the size of the gem was a hint at how much money the fiancée had in the bank. And for a second Eli considered whether this was about love or money. But time told it was about love.
Love for each other, and not really Eli.
And so, before he knew, Dan had moved the small family to their current residence: to a little old place by the name of Cornwall, England, to a large house just outside the city, and to the local high school. That's right, he moved them all the way across the world. From America to England. It's been two months since then, and Eli still hasn't found his place in the social scene. Sure, he's found people who have given him a place in the social scene. He lives the high life, with the nice car, luxury, big house... But really all of it is new and uncomfortable, having lived all his life in the not-so-great social class. To the day, he remains lost.
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so hey! i'm [quinn] and there is no doubt about it,
i'm a [girl]. i've been rocking in this world for [eighteen years].
yanno this crazy shit called roleplaying? well i've been
doing it for [5-6] years.
i'm a [girl]. i've been rocking in this world for [eighteen years].
yanno this crazy shit called roleplaying? well i've been
doing it for [5-6] years.
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The faint yellow haze intruding through the window indicated morning. The crick in his neck indicated that something needed to be done. It was the fifth time since he had moved in with Dan that Eli had found himself sleeping on the floor of his neighbors' toolshed. The shed was nice enough: unlocked, clean of spiderwebs and mice, but as a matress, the concrete floor proved to be cold and uncomfortable. Eli made a mental note to bring a blanket the next time he decided to have a miniature escape from Dan. In all those fairytales, there was always an evil step-mother, but someone had failed to mention the long-lost evil step-father, whom Eli had unfortunately found. Dan... it made things worse that they shared a portion of their name. He was Daniel Adam Barkham, and Eli was Elijah Daniel Ackerman. But then, what was a middle name? Enough. The stubborn thoughts answered the stubborn questions while the pale blue eyes explored the now-and-sadly-familiar surroundings.
Mrs. Reeves, the neighbor woman, got up at six to tend to her garden, much like Eli often awoke, not at six, but early to walk Duncan the border collie. Mr. Reeves was always up soon after to put a cup of coffee cautiously on the arm of a lawnchair for his wife. Eli should have been ashamed to know such a piece of information, like he was spying on the neighbors, but he wasn't, not like he was ashamed to be secretly sleeping in their toolshed. Though it was before he had needed the use of the shed when he observed the elderly couple. Twice he had stopped himself from getting out his camera and snapping a still of their loving morning ritual, for it was a beautiful sight, despite the absence of youth and prescence of both wrinkles and bathrobes. More than once Eli had wondered if his parents would have been so happy had they stayed together through the decades. He stopped himself here, too.
The rays of sun were growing brighter, and six o'clock was approaching. Time to go home. Eli unfolded himself from the fetal position he had slept in, finding he was rather small in shame. He didn't like that. Nor did he like the way Dan feared the gentle border collie back at the house, and kept him caged up at night, or the way his stepfather used the prized 1950's Skyliner without asking permission, or how he called him 'Elijah' instead of simply Eli... The list went on and on. Nearing the top was the fact that he felt shame at all for needing the escape. Eli had come to realize that it was Dan's fault he had aquired a temper. Too many times that he had just been ignored and pushed aside for more (less) important things that he had finally snapped. Eli's mother had been working late last night, Dan was the only other human being in the house. This was trouble brewing. Eli had attempted to sit quietly and finish his math homework, but when Dan had filed the third consecutive complaint about the dog that evening, suddenly all bets were off. Despite the stinging words that had been said, it was he, Eli, that was shamefully crawling out of the toolshed, trying not to wake anyone up.
Naturally, everyone was still asleep when he opened the kitchen door, the slight creak breaking the heavy silence of morning. Duncan resembled Eli in the dog's own state of unconsciousness: curled up in an uncomfortably small space, though perhaps the dog was used to sleeping in a helpless fetal position. It would have been nice to let him loose, but Eli couldn't fool anyone; he was never up quite this early. So reluctantly, he walked by the caged animal and to the open bed. The matress had bever been extremely comfortable, often times people found it to be too firm, but those people had never slept on the floor of a toolshed. Eli immediatly regretted leaving such a warm, welcoming bed the second he met it. Or did he? No, he didn't. Which was why, just before he found sleep, Eli reached the familiar conclusion: something needed to be done.
Mrs. Reeves, the neighbor woman, got up at six to tend to her garden, much like Eli often awoke, not at six, but early to walk Duncan the border collie. Mr. Reeves was always up soon after to put a cup of coffee cautiously on the arm of a lawnchair for his wife. Eli should have been ashamed to know such a piece of information, like he was spying on the neighbors, but he wasn't, not like he was ashamed to be secretly sleeping in their toolshed. Though it was before he had needed the use of the shed when he observed the elderly couple. Twice he had stopped himself from getting out his camera and snapping a still of their loving morning ritual, for it was a beautiful sight, despite the absence of youth and prescence of both wrinkles and bathrobes. More than once Eli had wondered if his parents would have been so happy had they stayed together through the decades. He stopped himself here, too.
The rays of sun were growing brighter, and six o'clock was approaching. Time to go home. Eli unfolded himself from the fetal position he had slept in, finding he was rather small in shame. He didn't like that. Nor did he like the way Dan feared the gentle border collie back at the house, and kept him caged up at night, or the way his stepfather used the prized 1950's Skyliner without asking permission, or how he called him 'Elijah' instead of simply Eli... The list went on and on. Nearing the top was the fact that he felt shame at all for needing the escape. Eli had come to realize that it was Dan's fault he had aquired a temper. Too many times that he had just been ignored and pushed aside for more (less) important things that he had finally snapped. Eli's mother had been working late last night, Dan was the only other human being in the house. This was trouble brewing. Eli had attempted to sit quietly and finish his math homework, but when Dan had filed the third consecutive complaint about the dog that evening, suddenly all bets were off. Despite the stinging words that had been said, it was he, Eli, that was shamefully crawling out of the toolshed, trying not to wake anyone up.
Naturally, everyone was still asleep when he opened the kitchen door, the slight creak breaking the heavy silence of morning. Duncan resembled Eli in the dog's own state of unconsciousness: curled up in an uncomfortably small space, though perhaps the dog was used to sleeping in a helpless fetal position. It would have been nice to let him loose, but Eli couldn't fool anyone; he was never up quite this early. So reluctantly, he walked by the caged animal and to the open bed. The matress had bever been extremely comfortable, often times people found it to be too firm, but those people had never slept on the floor of a toolshed. Eli immediatly regretted leaving such a warm, welcoming bed the second he met it. Or did he? No, he didn't. Which was why, just before he found sleep, Eli reached the familiar conclusion: something needed to be done.
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