Daniel Jack Johnson story

Okay, I'm giving you the beginnings of a story. It's a rough draft, so it's not as good as possible, but it's something! Hope you like it. Also, if you see something you don't like/aren't happy with/think is wrong/think could be better, don't hesitate to comment and be my editors!! Actually, PLEASE do this. I need your feedback! Here goes.

Now, let me tell you, not one kid in Blackfield - not one - ever even had a thought in their minds about even the idea of cutting through Till's Way. Not the little kids, not the teenagers, not the medium kids, no one. Most of the adults were scared too. Sure, it was a much easier route to both McClellan's Drugstore and Blackfield Elementary/Middle/High than the roundabout one that goes in a huge moon shape 'way to the right, and is the only other actual road (other than the dreaded Way) that leads onto Main and East. (Unless you wanted to not take a road and go the "easy" way, but I don't know what's so easy about slogging a quarter mile through glass-filled vacant lots and tall, unforgiving weeds.)

So, that was the way it was. You either woke up early on school days and traveled the roundabout, or you got to sleep in a bit but then had to turn up at school all scratched and torn from glass and those mean old weeds.

Things went on his way for years, all the way up until the year I turned ten.

It was (I can't find an accurate year, readers. Please help me!), and a pretty good year for me. I started the fifth grade at BEMH, which was the school every kid in Blackfield went to (unless you were that wacky Penelope Keane, but I'll get to her later). I had managed to make some friends the past year, and I was actually kind of looking forward to school.

But on the first day of fifth grade, something happened that made me forget about friends for awhile, at least not ones my age. Razor Blim arrived.

The day started like every other first-day-of-school of my life, with my sister Laura, who was sixteen and a pain in the neck, banging on my bedroom door and yelling, "Daniel Jack Johnson, get up! The Borogroves and Mome Raths need you!" I still have no idea what it means, but used to think it meant something important, so on every first-day-of-school since she started, I would ask everybody I saw on the way to school to let me know if they spotted any Borogroves or Mome Raths. Each time, I would get sick of being laughed at and shut up until the next year, when it would happen all over again.

So there you have it. I'll write more and post it as soon as possible! Remember, give me feedback! Be as harsh as you want. It's about time I got a healthy dose of helpful criticism.