Post by bc on Jul 31, 2008 10:20:49 GMT 1
Okay, my first attempt at Emmerdale fanfiction. Nothing too brilliant, short and sweet.
Based on the fact that Richard Grieve went grey at age fifteen. So yes, this a prequel.
Grey. Endlessly, infinitely grey.
Or maybe silver, in certain lights…?
Turning different ways in the mirror, Jonny repeatedly ran his hands through his locks, his face tensed in concentration and slight anxiety. He nervously fiddled with his collar, trying to look vaguely smart for his first day back at school but his hands soon rose, seemingly of their own accord, back to the hair.
He wondered what people at school would say when they saw him. Two possibilities seemed likely: ‘Cool, Jonny!’ or ‘Hey, Grandad!’ He winced again as he looked into the mirror, wondering if he should revert back to the hair-dye he’d been using. Thinking more deeply on that, he also began to wonder if he should have made such an effort to hide the increasing salt-and-pepper shades of his hair to start with. Maybe then, at least for the wider student body, it wouldn’t be such a shock to see it like this today. And he’d be spared a few insults.
He looked back at the nervous face in the mirror and sighed in resignation, knowing that no-one else in school this morning would be having this exact same problem with their hair.
‘Get through the day quickly,’ he told his reflection sternly. ‘You’re just nervous. Deal with it and then come home for your riding-lesson, head held high. Simple as that.’ Pause. ‘I hope.’
A knock at the door snapped his attention away from himself and calling ‘Come in!’ over his shoulder, he quickly grabbed a brush and tackled his hair, trying to at least smarten it up as his mother entered the room. Jonny, looking into the mirror, smiled at her reflection but then turned around in surprise when he saw that she was holding a tape-player. Walking past him to the desk, she placed it on the surface and then turned it on.
‘Gimme a head with hair
Long beautiful hair…’
Taken aback, Jonny glanced down at the player as the sounds of Hair: The Musical filled his bedroom and then began to laugh, his previous nerves dissipating.
’Shining, gleaming,
Streaming, flaxen, waxen…’
His face no longer tense with anxiety, Jonny turned and shook his head at his mother, who in turn looked very pleased with herself. Turning the tape-player off, he held it out to her with a knowing grin.
‘Point taken,’ he chuckled and it was; he definitely felt more relaxed than he had five minutes ago. His mother took the player and putting it aside, put her arms around him.
‘It doesn’t take a genius to work out you’re nervous about today, my love,’ she beamed at him, before giving his cheek a motherly pat. ‘You go on in with your head held high, Jonathan Foster. Don’t you care what other people think.’
Jonny laughed all over again as his mother picked up the tape-player, gave her son a quick ‘know-it-all’ smile and disappeared downstairs. Looking back into the mirror, Jonny turned his head both ways again and ran his hands through his grey hair once more before stepping back.
Okay, so it would take some getting used to, but actually… it was pretty great, really. Different, but cool. His hands falling to his sides in satisfaction, Jonny picked up his bag and ran downstairs after his mother.
End.
Based on the fact that Richard Grieve went grey at age fifteen. So yes, this a prequel.
Hair
Grey. Endlessly, infinitely grey.
Or maybe silver, in certain lights…?
Turning different ways in the mirror, Jonny repeatedly ran his hands through his locks, his face tensed in concentration and slight anxiety. He nervously fiddled with his collar, trying to look vaguely smart for his first day back at school but his hands soon rose, seemingly of their own accord, back to the hair.
He wondered what people at school would say when they saw him. Two possibilities seemed likely: ‘Cool, Jonny!’ or ‘Hey, Grandad!’ He winced again as he looked into the mirror, wondering if he should revert back to the hair-dye he’d been using. Thinking more deeply on that, he also began to wonder if he should have made such an effort to hide the increasing salt-and-pepper shades of his hair to start with. Maybe then, at least for the wider student body, it wouldn’t be such a shock to see it like this today. And he’d be spared a few insults.
He looked back at the nervous face in the mirror and sighed in resignation, knowing that no-one else in school this morning would be having this exact same problem with their hair.
‘Get through the day quickly,’ he told his reflection sternly. ‘You’re just nervous. Deal with it and then come home for your riding-lesson, head held high. Simple as that.’ Pause. ‘I hope.’
A knock at the door snapped his attention away from himself and calling ‘Come in!’ over his shoulder, he quickly grabbed a brush and tackled his hair, trying to at least smarten it up as his mother entered the room. Jonny, looking into the mirror, smiled at her reflection but then turned around in surprise when he saw that she was holding a tape-player. Walking past him to the desk, she placed it on the surface and then turned it on.
‘Gimme a head with hair
Long beautiful hair…’
Taken aback, Jonny glanced down at the player as the sounds of Hair: The Musical filled his bedroom and then began to laugh, his previous nerves dissipating.
’Shining, gleaming,
Streaming, flaxen, waxen…’
His face no longer tense with anxiety, Jonny turned and shook his head at his mother, who in turn looked very pleased with herself. Turning the tape-player off, he held it out to her with a knowing grin.
‘Point taken,’ he chuckled and it was; he definitely felt more relaxed than he had five minutes ago. His mother took the player and putting it aside, put her arms around him.
‘It doesn’t take a genius to work out you’re nervous about today, my love,’ she beamed at him, before giving his cheek a motherly pat. ‘You go on in with your head held high, Jonathan Foster. Don’t you care what other people think.’
Jonny laughed all over again as his mother picked up the tape-player, gave her son a quick ‘know-it-all’ smile and disappeared downstairs. Looking back into the mirror, Jonny turned his head both ways again and ran his hands through his grey hair once more before stepping back.
Okay, so it would take some getting used to, but actually… it was pretty great, really. Different, but cool. His hands falling to his sides in satisfaction, Jonny picked up his bag and ran downstairs after his mother.
End.
that was good, your a good writer you should do another fan fic -x
