RV4 Unfinished Narrative

Instructions: In your group, decide how this story should end; then write the ending. Also, give it a title.

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It was right after lunchtime and Dad was so busy chasing down baby that he made a mistake. One that Mom would
never make. He told both of us, "If you eat any more chocolate, you'll turn into chocolate." Not bright, Dad. Mom would
have simply taken the chocolate away.
My little brother didn't realize what Dad meant was no more chocolate. But what can you expect from a five-year
old? When you get to my age, you can tell better what parents mean when they say confusing things, but five-year old
boys hear only what they want to hear. Or so Mom says.
So my little brother did just what Dad didn't want him to. He took another chocolate bar, a big one, from the snack
bin, opened it and took a huge bite. I figured he'd get into trouble, but I never figured he'd turn into chocolate.
Which is what he did. I know it was chocolate, because I took a little bite from his ear. Just to make sure.
"Dad?!" I hollered. "Dad?"
Dad yelled back, from somewhere upstairs, "I'm changing baby, can you please deal with whatever it is yourself?"
He was always having me deal with stuff myself, since I was the oldest. Like cleaning up spills. Or making sure my
little brother has both his shoes and socks on. Or making Ritz peanut butter and jelly cracker sandwiches for lunch and
pouring glasses of milk. But I had never had to deal with a chocolate little brother before.
I looked at my brother. He was completely chocolate, even his clothes. And he wasn't moving. He had this huge
smile on his face and a half-eaten chocolate bar in one of his hands. I wondered if he was really made out of chocolate.
I sort of knocked on him gently, to see if he was hollow inside like those cheap Easter Bunnies. He wasn't. He was
solid chocolate. If he were an Easter bunny, he'd be the biggest one we had ever gotten.
I wondered how he tasted. That's when I had the little nibble I mentioned earlier. From his ear. Just a tiny bite. He
tasted just like chocolate. Good chocolate. If I hadn't had tons of chocolate already, I would probably have eaten more.
But I did snap off some of his  shirtsleeve and put it in the refrigerator, to save some for later, and to make sure it didn't
melt.
Melt! My little brother is going to melt! I knew I had to do something fast, but what?
I ran to the bottom of the stairs and called up, "Dad?!"
He said back, sort of tired sounding and testy, "Can't you please take care of it yourself?" He was obviously having
some trouble with baby. Maybe she ran off without a diaper or wouldn't let him put on her shirt. She does that.
Well, if I had to handle this by myself, I would. Here's what I did-
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RV4 Unfinished Narrative

Instructions: In your group, decide how this story should end; then write the ending. Also, give it a title.

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My story is different from what you might have read in the comics, but it’s real.
I was walking home from school one day (I live in the city, but the walk is only a couple blocks) when I see an old lady
surrounded by two big men and some sort of overly-large dog. Maybe a wolf. Now, I am not stupid enough to get involved. I am just a
kid, but I figured I had to do something. The old lady did not look afraid. She was darting her eyes around as if she were looking for a
way to escape. But I didn’t see a way, since she was backed into a corner of a building under construction. Yet another CVS.
She and I made eye contact and she waved her head at me, as if to say ‘You will only make it harder for me.’ But this couldn’t
be true. I had to do something.
“Look down. In the crack between the sidewalk and the grass.”
It was a voice in my head. Odd, you may think, but to be honest, I didn’t even think about it. I just looked down and saw a silver
necklace with a large marble pendant.
“Don’t look at the marble.”
But I already had. It was black, but began swirling with yellows and pinks and seemed to grow larger and dizzier and I started to
feel nauseous…
“Look away!”
I did. Happy to do so. I felt better instantly.
“Ball the necklace up in your hands and throw it to Glor-, hemm, the old woman. Make it a good throw. This is our one chance.”
I was scared. I was not a good thrower. It was too far away. I looked to see if Lee or Jordan were around. They were good at
baseball and maybe they could help.
“You can do it.”
I could do it. I could make the perfect throw. And, just like in the movies or in comic books, I swung that necklace around three
times and I sent that necklace careening through the air, across the street and right into her hands. She caught it in her fist. She winked.
“Nice throw. Now run and do not look back!”
I started to run, but, of course, looked back. Instead of an old lady, there was some sort of yellow and pink tornado of fabric. I
only caught a glimpse before everything went dark and I realized I was falling. I landed on the sidewalk, skinning my knees pretty
badly, but more worried about why I was suddenly blind. Really, everything was black. And I hadn’t even hit my head.
By the time I got back to my feet, my eyesight had returned and the old lady, two men and the wolf were gone.
I realize now that the voice in my head gave me the confidence to make the perfect throw as well as blinded me briefly so I
couldn’t see the lady turn into a super hero. At the time, though, the voice seemed about as normal as when you are talking to yourself
in your head. And the throw, well, the voice did give me the confidence to do it, but the throw was all mine.
To make a long story short (too late, I know, ha ha), I heard the voice in my head again the following Saturday morning. Very
early. Just after the sun had come up and many hours before I normally even wake up on Saturdays.
“Go back to the spot where you found the necklace and you will find a note. It is your reward. You did well.”
“What is it?” I asked, ummm, myself. But the voice in my head was gone.
So I dressed quickly, didn’t waste any time brushing my teeth or washing my face, and ran to where I found the necklace. There
was a small piece of paper balled up and stuck in the crack. It was light yellow, an odd color. I opened it and inside was a hand-drawn
circle (about as big as my hand) and the words: reach into the circle and take out your reward.
I stuck my hand into the circle (it was like reaching into Jello) and pulled out a larger piece of paper that looked like one of those
certificates you get when you write the winning story in the school contest or are awarded for having perfect attendance at the end of
the school year.
I cannot remember what the scroll said, since I do not have it any more, but it pretty much congratulated me for serving the
greater good and said that the PSL (I still do not know what that stands for!) wanted me to join.
To join, it said I needed to do two things:
1. Decide what I wanted to be my super ability
2. Come up with a name, for starters anyway.
Again, it wasn’t in these words. The words it used were all fancy and teacher-like, but I could understand them well enough.
There were some details on the bottom and some math equations, which I found sort of odd, but one of the notes read: The
smarter you are naturally, the less power you will receive.
 I read a lot of comics, so this made me laugh. It made sense. In fact, Ash and I had a joke about superheroes. With great power
comes great stupidity. It sort of evens things out a bit. So it was very funny that this was, in fact, a rule.
Finally, the letter said I had a week to decide if I wanted the power at all and what the power would be and that I could ask no
one for advice. If I did, the deal was off. Not in those words, of course.
I stuffed the scroll into my front pocket and ran home to my room. When I got home the scroll was gone. I didn’t bother to look
for it, since I knew it hadn’t fallen out of my pocket. It had disappeared. Nothing falls out of front pockets.
You can guess what I did next…
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