Brooks Creek

  Adventure driven by the desire to experience greatness within ones youth is something that can be frustrating and seemingly possible to achieve. Wasted youth, the generations that spent there days indoors, on there phones, getting high, hooking up. They'd considered the last two 'adventures' at first, but troublesome events always seem exhilarating at first.

    Small towns can be dreary. No where new to explore, no one odd to perceive however you imagine them to be. An example of this is questioning the odd characters true personalities if you were exploring the Las Vegas strip. Curiosity, fills one with a taste of what adventure and discovering could be like.

   But too much curiosity, it can be dangerous. Lethal, even. Ruin lives, expose secrets you should never have known in the first place, blackmail, the list goes on. But contentment with what's already existing in front of ones self is a miserable way to explore life. Then again, some can't help there situations.

   Take the handsome boy with the messy black hair in Brooks Creek for example. Good looking, people paid attention to him. The townspeople of Brooks Creek thought they understood what type of character he was.  He was the rebellious cliche bad guy who sported a trade mark leather jacket and a smeared on furrowed brow that felt intimidating. Strong, and divergent of authority, and conformity. Middle aged woman would clutch there handbags as they walked past gripping there children small hands only to catch a glimpse of what seem to resemble a young Marlon Brando.

   He drove the girls at Brooks Creek High insane. The harder the catch, the more they craved to try a bite. They'd pull the front of their shirts down a little lower when he passed, and giggles or whispers would echo behind his walk. He was impossible to approach, one day one of the prettier girls asked how he was doing, he just shrugged, smirked, then lit a cigarette. Right there in the middle of the science lab, somehow only landing him a week suspension. 

   After a while no one bothered, they understood, he was too stuck up for any of them. Again, distorted imagery of a character based upon how they present themselves. He went home every day as late as he could, or as little. Driving a motorcycle, working at the shop, getting a milk shake, smoking by the creek, working out. Anything. Men hated him. Young, old, fathers of daughters that were afraid he'd knock em up, or fathers of sons who were afraid they'd knock their kid out. 

   People didn't know much about him. Where he lived seemed a mystery. Was he rich a rebelling from his parents strict and scolding ideas of fancy colleges? Did he live on his own already, in a motor shop maybe? The talk spread like wildfire, but he didn't care, really. What they thought versus the truth seemed better so if it stuck long enough it just might change.

   The minute he walked in that door he'd be welcomed with a punch to the gut, then the head. The darkness of the peeling grey walls sometimes splattered with blood. Criticized for still being in school, and not working full time, sometimes cigarettes would be put out on his arms. His father would say a real man would hit back. A dead mother who passed on Christmas Eve when he was seven due to a heroin overdose. His father couldn't afford a funeral, so she rested in the backyard. Weed, heroin, cocaine, his father went through it like nothing. And when he'd invite his friends to tag along, Jackson would sit while being slapped and avoiding these substances as his greasy father passed the spoon around the dreary kitchen table stuffed full with sogged crushed chips and hunched men wreaking of foul body odour. When he couldn't manage to refuse without his father being reluctant on letting him go, he'd be beaten. That was Jackson's story.

There were many others like him in the trailer court, only not considered as tragic. When tragic occurrences attack a beautiful human being,  its mourned over. But the disabled or birth defected, morbidly skinny or obese, the kids with acne from improper nutrition supplied by absent parents, none of them had any sleep lost over.