Anyone like historical fiction?

[Grappler13]

I'm playing around with writing. Maybe some short stories, who knows. Let me know what you think. You won't hurt my feelings. I don't have any foral creative writing experience but read like a fiend and always though it would be fun to write.

Grappler

PS: could be some typos, I keep changing these paragraphs around.

"He was retuning from his friend’s house where he had undoubtedly played for several hours on the moist Georgia earth that seems to creep upwards from boyhood streams until it becomes the hard red clay that makes the trail visible in all but the darkest of night. Down the barely discernable ruts, he had flown on a bigwheel with large chunks missing from its front tires, pushing the limits of speed and realizing a satisfaction at each dodge of a tree or a new distance record. Running gleefully and dragging his first toy of mobility by the grips, he raced back up the hill until he reached the trail which, for that day’s adventure, served as the starting point from which all accomplishment would be measured. Over and over, he had plunged back down the hillside hoping to forage farther than he did the previous try. The goal was an amorphous ball of speed, distance, obstacles, and repetition. There were no rules, only a child’s need for an adrenaline fix. He has no recollection of any exact records broken that day but instinctively remembers that some runs had been better than others, mistakes had been made and corrected and the boy’s territory had expanded from the light of the trail into the darkness of the creekbed.

The trail, one he personally had blazed during his first years, was, at this time, purely a question of function. It lead atop the eastern ridge next to the never named creek and while primitive, was well traveled and connected the homes of the four boys. These boys, four, maybe five years of age at the time, would eventually expand the trail by trial and error to extend for untold miles and offer relatively safe passage for other neighborhood kids beginning their own adventures. New trails would be cut, used, forgotten, rediscovered, and were slowly interlinked with those made by other cultic groups of exploratory boys. As the years passed, the trails, as they came to collectively be known, established territorial boundaries of cliques and a provide a measure of safety that would wax and wane as the years passed. One can only control so much territory and it would need defending in time.

The four boys’ territory was fortunately situated in that there were no competitors for the area that extended in an almost direct line from Wayne’s house to Travis’s. Technically, he thought, Wayne’s house was not actually on the trail as you had to cross a neighborhood street to get to Wayne’s but you could see Wayne’s house directly from Troy’s driveway so proximity allowed inclusion. As he walked home that night from Troy’s backyard, he questioned whether his mother was really at home cooking dinner. He couldn’t yet see his own house and had the sneaking suspicion that even that which was behind him had ceased to exist. He sometimes felt that the world was created as he walked through it and that in his absence, it either disappeared or retreated into stillness awaiting his life-giving glance. The theory was thorny and uncomfortable and satisfying at the same time. He had yet to learn the word “egocentric.”

[Kärnfysikern]

Im more of a sci-fi guy.

But I like it

[Grappler13]

You're my only reader. If I ever get published, I'll give you a shout-out!

[Psychotron]

I didn't see any sci-fi or history in it heh, but the writing and descriptions were great, felt like i was there.

[mrmagoo82]

Not Bad Bro

[Grappler13]

I really appreciate the feedback. I'll post some more as I write more. Those few paragraphs took longer to wrote than I had anticiapted.

[cfiler]

It's pretty good.