13 years

From Create Your Own Story

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''This is a story I am making. It is not a "Choose your own adventure story", but just an overall story. ONLY I EDIT!I hope you like it.''
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''Okay, this WAS supposed to be a no CYOA story, but this is a CYOA site, so I will do that. I will not change the flow of the story, but choices will begin to be made''
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Revision as of 12:21, 18 October 2009

Okay, this WAS supposed to be a no CYOA story, but this is a CYOA site, so I will do that. I will not change the flow of the story, but choices will begin to be made


To think. 10 years ago, I was a little baby boy in my mother's arms; happy, perfect, without a care in the world. And now I was locked up for life.

My name is Johny. I am 13 years old. And you'd think a young kid like me would be having the time of his life, right? Getting with girls, experiencing the outside world, friends, even school for that matter. You would except these are the best yours of my life, right?

Then why am I in juvy?

It's kind of a long story. If you have time for a long story, I'd be happy to share with you.


Well, it all started about a month ago. I was in the punk side of the neighborhood, with gangs, thefts, crime, all that shit. "You better just not look back" my mom would say to me. I knew what she meant. It meant that you just need to keep on going, cause' in this neighborhood, if you are found with a weakness, you're life will become hell.

Now, I'm not the gangster-type. Actually, I'm sort of a nerd. Okay, not a nerd, but I am pretty smart. Smart enough to stay out of that shit, anyway. I was going to school one day, and my friend Alex comes up to me, and says "Hey, Johny. Look what I found." He pulled a plastic bag out from his backpack, filled with some mysterious white powder.

"What is it?" I asked. I knew the answer before he told me.

"It's crack. What's it look like?"

"Why the fuck would you have that on school grounds? More importantly, why would you tell me? Now I'm involved."

"What, are you gonna rat on me?"

"No, but if you get caught and I'm question, I'm not gonna lie."

"So what your saying is.....you don't want any?"

"Why the hell would I want any?"

"Well that's what I came over here for."

"Well, forget it. I have to get to class."

Ringggggg! That was the bell. I went into my homeroom, Algebra 1, and my teacher was Mrs. Henter.

I sat down in my seat, and began to write in my planner.

To be continued...

Continue to Chapter 2

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