| Welcome to zetaboards. We hope you enjoy your visit. You're currently viewing our forum as a guest. This means you are limited to certain areas of the board and there are some features you can't use. If you join our community, you'll be able to access member-only sections, and use many member-only features such as customizing your profile, sending personal messages, and voting in polls. Registration is simple, fast, and completely free. Join our community! If you're already a member please log in to your account to access all of our features: |
| Castor & Ryan Hetfield tell it how it is; A slant on the Hetfield Family. | |
|---|---|
| Tweet Topic Started: May 5, 2008, 5:06 pm (12,028 Views) | |
| Lady Hammett | May 7, 2008, 11:39 am Post #31 |
|
Poor Twisted Me
![]() ![]() ![]()
|
After Cali's band got the record deal, it wasn't long until they were recording their first album, "Whatcha See Is Whatcha Get". Dad was with her in the studio every second of the day, leaving Mom to handle Marcella and me. He was always there for Cali, his favorite, and never there for us, I thought bitterly. But that meant one good thing. With the help of Josh and Tyler, the other two boys I had seen at the dance studio when Cali was there, I convinced Mom to let me take ballet lessons there with them. "Don't you dare let your father find out," she told me. "Of course not," I said immediately. I would have to be crazy to tell him! "And don't tell Cella, either. She'll blab to somebody about it. I won't let her find out if you won't." "Thanks, Mom." I was like Dad - not much of a hugger. But for the first time in a long time, I did hug her. For once I didn't feel isolated. I can't tell you how much I love to dance. It's just as great as playing bass, just in a different way. With bass you can pound out your anger and aggression. But when you dance, the whole world drops away, and you feel like you're floating away to a world of your own. It was an escape from the harsh reality, and I loved it. Life was good without Dad and Cali at home, actually. They spent all day long in the studio and came home at eight or nine each night. Cali stopped attending Livingston Elementary and a tutor was assigned to her, Carl, and Myles in the studio. So school was great too because she wasn't there to bully me. Mindy, Josh and Tyler came over all the time, and it felt great. I had friends, and we could play any of the video games we wanted to all day long. Marcella usually joined in. But when Josh and Tyler and I practiced any dance moves, we had to make sure she was outside of the room and that the door was locked. I couldn't risk her telling Dad as much as I loved her and considered her to be a friend. When she was old enough not to squeal, I'd tell her about it. On May 18, I turned nine, and Cali and the band began their first tour. I couldn't believe how fast everything was moving for these people! All the attention was on Cali. Dad nearly forgot that it was my birthday. He was wiping at his eyes, which were growing moist, with a handkerchief that Mom had embroidered for him. Then, he said, "I'm going with her." "What?" Mom cried. "I thought-" "The arrangements can easily be changed. I am going with my girl." I thought that Cali would want her freedom and space. After all, the tutor was getting paid extra and they had some bodyguards to watch them too. But Cali thought it was great that Dad was going along. So did I. The house would be peaceful and serene for MONTHS. No Dad, no Cali, no Myles. Layne was at his mom's house for the summer. Uncle Kirk was invited over a lot more than he was when Dad was here. That to me was weird. But then I noticed that Mom was getting a strange sparkle in her eye whenever he came over. I may have only been nine, but something was up. I could tell that she liked him kind of like the way I liked Lani, and that couldn't be good. At least I wasn't married - though Lani was of course. Uncle Kirk probably figured it was for my sake. He didn't show the same interest in Mom as she did in him. We'd often end up leaving and going to his place to cook and jam. I showed him my dance moves. Mom had told him that my taking ballet was a secret we were keeping from Dad. Kirk had seemed to have found that weird, but he had just nodded, and congratulated me on my success in dancing. One day I was forthright with Mom. "Mom, do you like Uncle Kirk?" I asked when Marcella was upstairs taking a shower. She tended to take forever in the shower, so now was the time to ask. "As a friend? Absolutely," was her reply. I didn't believe her, but I didn't question any more, either. I wasn't sure what to say. One night we were all having dinner and Uncle Kirk phoned. Apparently I had left one of my bass pedals over his house. "Well, why don't you bring it over and join us for dinner?" Mom suggested. He did just that. And when he settled down and began to eat, Mom commented that he was such a kind, gentle man, who was good with children. "Kids love you. Ryan did, and so does Castor and Marcella. Such a shame that you don't have any of your own," she told him. "Well, whether I do have any or not, I'm just glad that I have made others happy," Uncle Kirk said. I wished Mom would stop acting all gushy around him. Cali had once used the term flirting to describe the way Carl was acting towards a girl once, and it seemed to be the right word for the way Mom was acting around Kirk. I guess she realized that she wasn't getting anywhere though, 'cos she stopped after a while. I was glad, because I didn't want Uncle Kirk or Aunt Lani to be mad. I loved them both and couldn't bear losing either one of them. |
![]() |
|
| Lucifer's Angel | May 7, 2008, 11:46 am Post #32 |
![]()
Heavy Metal Seanchai
![]() ![]() ![]()
|
Wow, Cali sounds like a clone of her ad No wonder he wants to go on tour with them. At least he gets some peace and quiet. And I don't like that Fran is flirting with Kirk, that's not good for either of them. I hope his dancing works out
|
![]() |
|
| Lady Hammett | May 7, 2008, 11:49 am Post #33 |
|
Poor Twisted Me
![]() ![]() ![]()
|
The rest of the tour continued on, and Dad and Francesca were so busy with Cali that I mostly hung out with Uncle Kirk and Uncle Jason. I decided that I needed to make the most of this, because soon we would go home and the crap would start all over again. I forced myself not to think of the negative and enjoyed my time with the people I trusted. Kirk and Lani knew a lot about art. I followed them to the museums in each town and got to the point where I could quote them verbatim about various styles, artists, and paintings. They would take me out to eat afterwards, and I found myself opening up to them, like maybe a normal family should be? I continued to wish that I was their son, and in my fantasy world, I was. It was so easy to pretend. As I predicted, Cali became their child and I was just the shadow stepson. Of course, after the show was over I had to go back to the large suite with them. Most kids would probably complain that their new sibling was keeping them awake in that situation. But Cali's cries became a dull roar each night, like being in a cave, and I would slump over and fall asleep. She was just background to me. I had a dream that night, which didn't make sense, like most dreams don't. I dreamt that Dad went insane and held Francesca and Cali captive, then went on to kidnap Kirk and Lani. He forced me to choose between the two. "What's it gonna be - your family, or your pretend family?" he snarled. I chose Kirk and Lani, of course. _______________________________________________________________________ When the tour came to a close, I wanted to cry. I could feel my throat about to explode as the plane landed in San Francisco. I was sitting next to Uncle Kirk, pretending to be asleep, my head buried into his shoulder. But I wasn't asleep. I wanted to die. As we exited the plane I immediately grabbed my suitcase and Uncle Kirk's arm with my free hand. We walked out into the airport and I didn't want to let him go. He could sense my unhappiness - I could tell by the look on his face. "Ryan, get over here and carry your duffel bag," Dad's voice interrupted my thoughts. "I am not a camel." He had Cali in one arm, my duffel bag in the other, all while trying to drag his suitcase. Fair enough. I retrieved the bag while Lani and Kirk were whispering about something. They kept looking over in my direction. Finally, Lani came over and asked, "Guys, why don't you let us watch Ryan for a while? Give you some time to concentrate on the baby." Dad and Francesca exchanged glances. I could tell that they would love nothing more than to just deal with Cali. "We'll think about it," Dad said finally, "And let you know tonight." It was the end of August and I had a few days before school started again. When we got home, I unpacked quickly. I hadn't taken my own bass with me, because Dad scoffed that there would be plenty of basses to play on tour. And he was right. After a few hours, I was finally finished. Most of it ended up in the laundry hamper, of course. Since Cali had been born on tour, Dad and Francesca were even more busy. The ex-guest room had become a construction site, with Dad setting up the changing table and Francesca assembling the crib (Cali was asleep in her carrier). I didn't want to disturb them because neither of them were having an easy time with the equipment. But I plucked up the courage to ask them if I could go outside. "Yes, go on," Dad groaned while checking on some screws that were at a funny angle. I took a long walk through Key Grove, our neighborhood. It was nice to reflect on the events that I had just left behind. A gentle breeze stirred up, shifting my long blond hair behind my shoulders. The neighborhood looked smaller, and I realized that I had grown a few inches while on tour. I was nearly as tall as the row of mailboxes at the apartment complex in our neighborhood - I hadn't been before we left. I noticed some of my classmates walking towards me, but I never said hi to any of them. I think they call it civil inattention when you don't acknowledge one another. Anyway, I was alarmed to realize that they looked like shrimps. Had I really grown that much? I heard them whisper behind my back, "Damn, is that Ryan Hetfield?" When I returned from my walk, I entered the garage and tried to mount my bicycle. To my shock, I couldn't even get my feet on the pedals anymore. My legs were too big. I thought that maybe Dad could adjust the bike for me - but of course, he was too busy with Cali now. I put the bike aside and went into the house. Francesca was arranging Cali's wardrobe and Dad was diapering Cali. I waited patiently, then asked whether they had spoken to Uncle Kirk? "We're too busy," Dad replied. "But you can call him if you want and tell him we've said yes." I shot down the stairs in my excitement and made the phone call. Then I got everything ready and waited patiently for them to pick me up. Lani was the one who pulled up, in her red GTO. Apparently Kirk had some family members over so she decided to give me the ride. I hopped in, realized my legs were cramped, and pumped the seat back. "This neighborhood seems to have shrunk," I told my aunt. "Honey, I think you've just grown a lot," she responded. She asked me when school started. Dad couldn't even be bothered to have told them that. I was honest, and told her the date. "You're in fourth grade now?" "Yes ma'am." "And you go to Sunrise Elementary?" "Yes ma'am." "Well, if you end up staying with us longer, we'll give you a ride to school each morning." I hoped that I could stay with them, that Dad and Francesca would just forget about me because they had Cali now. But they didn't. I had fantasized about Lani dropping me off at school in her red GTO, or Kirk picking me up in his 1950's Dodge - the one he dubbed "Kirkstine". But Dad came to collect me the night before school started, and I went back to hell again. |
![]() |
|
| Lucifer's Angel | May 7, 2008, 11:58 am Post #34 |
![]()
Heavy Metal Seanchai
![]() ![]() ![]()
|
Kirk and Lani are better parents to him than his own Man, James and Fran are such assholes in this story
|
![]() |
|
| Wishful | May 7, 2008, 12:11 pm Post #35 |
![]()
Cliff and Lars Lover
![]() ![]() ![]()
|
AARRGGHH those poor boys! god i feel like commiting murder! GITS!!!!!!! |
![]() |
|
| Lady Hammett | May 7, 2008, 12:39 pm Post #36 |
|
Poor Twisted Me
![]() ![]() ![]()
|
Man, we're getting close to where I left off . . . soon I'll have a bit of work to do, but we'll keep moving along! Cali's band went on tour for about four months, then it was Metallica's turn to go on tour. I asked Mom to read over the tour schedule for me, as well as the set lists. It turned out that Metallica was doing a festival in England in October. The festival would contain several other bands. When I got to school the next day, I asked Josh to read the list of bands out to me that would be playing there. We were in the library before the first bell rang, surfing the web. "Hey - Ryan's band is gonna be there," Josh declared. My heart leapt to my throat. "Really? On the same day as we are?" "You betcha." A plan already started forming in my head. I had a mission now. I was going to meet Ryan. Maybe I could beg Uncle Kirk to help me, and if it was too risky for him in case of Dad finding out, then it didn't matter. I was going to do it myself. I didn't breathe a word to anybody except Mindy, Josh and Tyler. I didn't dare mention it around the house; I couldn't risk Dad finding out. I didn't even plan on saying anything to Kirk until we embarked on the tour. When we hit the road, Dad's attention was mainly on Cali, and Mom's mainly on Marcella. That's what's great about a family of three kids - the parents are outnumbered. And the middle, in my opinion, usually gets the least attention. It was perfect. They wouldn't be monitoring me, which gave me more time to hang out with Uncle Kirk and Aunt Lani. As usual, Tye, Uncle Rob's son, was always hanging out with Marcella. Lars had Myles and Layne with him this time, and they hung out with Cali. So it just made sense that I chilled with Uncle Kirk. We often were in private. I would follow them around before the shows to museums and other attractions around town. They always took me out to dinner afterwards. I was waiting for the perfect moment to discuss Ryan - and, to my happiness, Lani was the first to mention him. "What does this remind you of?" she asked Kirk one day while we were standing in line at some theater in Greece. She was referring to me. Kirk looked almost forlorn. "Ryan," he said immediately. "Ryan used to tag along with us before the shows." Lani placed her hand on my shoulder, and I felt a chill creep up my spine. I wanted to hug her, but wasn't very good with hugs. I plucked up the courage to speak. "Guys, I need to talk to you about something. Ryan's band is going to be at the festival in England, right?" My aunt and uncle exchanged glances. "Yes," Kirk choked out. "Are you going to talk to him?" I cried anxiously. "Honey, I don't know if we can," Lani replied. "Your father might get mad." If I told them how determined I was to meet him, they might discourage me. But I couldn't help but ask whether Kirk would be able to introduce me to him. "I'm sorry, Castor. Your dad will fire me if he finds out about it. You have to understand." "I do," I said at once. I couldn't get Uncle Kirk into trouble. So I just left it at that. The line moved up, we got our tickets to the show, and the night went on. |
![]() |
|
| Lucifer's Angel | May 7, 2008, 12:44 pm Post #37 |
![]()
Heavy Metal Seanchai
![]() ![]() ![]()
|
I hope Castor gets to meet his brother This is an awesome fic, keep going
|
![]() |
|
| Lady Hammett | May 7, 2008, 3:09 pm Post #38 |
|
Poor Twisted Me
![]() ![]() ![]()
|
Okay people! Here we go! Ryan's turn again, it is time for his introduction into Gunshot, and some sci-fi elements to be intact. __________________________________________________________________ I entered the fourth grade in what seemed like a trance. Before school started at Sunrise Elementary, everybody milled around in the outside courtyard and surrounding playground before the bell rang. I would always go to a tree parked in the back corner by the wall, where I would smoke a cigarette. You don't need to know where I got them from. Let's just say they calmed my nerves. So the first day, I went to my usual spot, and was alarmed to see a boy sitting there in my place. I nearly told him to move along. But when he saw me lugging my bass guitar along, he asked, "Hey - you're Ryan Hetfield, right?" "Yeah," I replied. "Man, James sure keeps his family hush-hush, don't he?" "He doesn't keep Cali hush-hush. He's proud of her." "Your sister?" "Half." I knew I wasn't getting rid of this guy, so I plopped down beside him. He was African-American and had an afro. He was smaller than me, so I assumed that he was my age or younger. He had already said my name, so I asked him what his was. "Ben Jones. I'm in sixth grade - I assume you are too?" "Sixth!" I exclaimed. This kid was skinny, and even though he was sitting down, I could tell he wasn't very tall. He had kind of a babyish voice. I was only nine but mine was lower than his. Nine. I realized that my birthday, July 5, had been overlooked. It pained me that not even Kirk or Lani had remembered it. Mind you, Kirk was bad with birthdays. He didn't remember my dad's sometimes - which meant I'd had to remind him to get the pies out when celebrating Dad's birthday onstage. For years, Metallica had kept a tradition of pieing each band member on his birthday. I think they still do it to this day! "Yeah, man. What grade are you in?" Ben's voice interrupted my thoughts. "Fourth." "FOURTH?" Ben stood straight up, and I did too. I was a whole head taller than him. "FOURTH?" he repeated. "Boy, you gotta be shittin' me." I showed him my school ID, which we had gotten at orientation the day before school started. It had my picture on it and said: SUNRISE ELEMENTARY SCHOOL RYAN HETFIELD GRADE 4 "Nooooooo way!" Ben cried. "I thought you was older." "I'm nine," I told him. Ben was twelve. Twelve! Sheesh. He had failed a grade. I wondered if he couldn't read, either. But I didn't ask. Ben didn't tell me where he'd moved from at first. But we got along great because neither of us fit in at school. We would meet under the tree each morning and smoke cigarettes. Then we'd meet at recess and do the same thing. After school, we'd walk to Ashley Park together. I would get home late, around six, and dinner would be waiting for me in the microwave. Dad and Francesca were so happy with Cali that I would never be priority again, and it didn't matter to me at all. One day, Dad found out that I had a new friend. Took him long enough. Basically, Ben and I didn't bother getting the bus home, as usual, and we headed to Ashley Park to smoke more cigarettes. Luckily we weren't smoking at the time, because Dad's Dodge Ram pulled up next to us. Dad told me to get in the car, we were going home. With a groan, I bid my friend farewell and did what I was told. "Who the hell is that?" Dad snapped at me. "My friend," I said firmly. "Where is he from?" "I dunno." "Rather . . . um . . . ethnic, isn't he?" Rage slammed through my body. "ARE YOU RACIST?" I shouted at the top of my lungs. Dad squealed to a stop, pulling to the side of the road. He got right up in my face and snarled, "No, I am not racist. But I know that you are a troublemaker. And if you're hanging around troublemakers that are breaking the law . . ." "HE IS NOT A CRIMINAL!" I screamed. Dad said nothing more. We drove home in silence. The next day, I was so upset that I told Ben everything about my dad. Absolutely everything. He was the only friend I'd ever had other than Uncle Kirk and Aunt Lani, and it just felt right to tell all. "You gotta get out of there," Ben said seriously, putting out his cigarette on the ground. We were standing outside the school gates first thing in the morning. When the bell rang, we ignored it. This was too important. "Look," Ben continued, "My dad was like that too. And my momma didn't care. So I split. You know where I went? I went to Gunshot." I had heard about Gunshot and some basic history on it. It used to be a producer of weapons and firearms, most of which went to the military. But they stopped making arms and began operating as their own campus. Now nobody is quite sure what the people there do. Rumors have said that they are experimenting with technology there. I had heard of there being a support system there also, I guess like a camp or something, because I had heard of kids going to work there too. "You should enroll," Ben continued, "Join the family there. Gunshot has a lot of cool stuff going on there. But I can't tell you them, 'cos it's breach of contract. Anyway, you ought to find out. Sign up. They will fight for your custody. It's like a facility really. You can earn your way up to better ranks and stuff . . ." "Whoa. Are you sure? I mean, why aren't you still there?" I asked. I had known him for a month now and neither of us had been over to each other's houses. "I came out because I found my grandma. My dad's mom. She took me in." "But if Gunshot is so great, why haven't you stayed there?" "She needed my help," Ben replied. "Tell me honestly, do you have anyone to stay around for?" "My uncle and aunt," I said immediately. But did I? We were never going to be a happy family, and I painfully was going to have to accept that. "BOYS! GET TO CLASS!" a voice barked out of nowhere. It was Mr. Drazell, the groundskeeper. Ben and I exchanged glances. "Hey man - we'll talk about it later," Ben said, and we split. I got online and did some more research about this place called Gunshot. There wasn’t much public information on it, but I had heard of kids who hadn’t had homes. They went there and I guess they worked for their homes there or something. They still went to school, graduated, and either stayed there as adults or moved on when they turned eighteen. At the end of the day, I tried to get a hold of Kirk. I pulled my huge cell phone out of my backpack, dialed his number, and hit SEND. Do you remember back in the nineties when you had to hit “SEND” to make a call and “END” to hang up the phone? Uncle Kirk didn’t answer. I debated over whether I should tell him and Lani about my plans to leave. As the days went by, Ben and I continued to meet each morning, smoke, and talk about Gunshot. He had me convinced that this was the best thing to do. |
![]() |
|
| Lucifer's Angel | May 7, 2008, 3:26 pm Post #39 |
![]()
Heavy Metal Seanchai
![]() ![]() ![]()
|
What is this Gunshot thing? And James is only getting worse, Ben seems like a good kid, I just think James wants his son to be miserable
|
![]() |
|
| Lady Hammett | May 7, 2008, 4:11 pm Post #40 |
|
Poor Twisted Me
![]() ![]() ![]()
|
That weekend, I was allowed to visit Kirk and Lani. At their house, I told them about my consideration to go to Gunshot. “I knew somebody who did that, actually,” Lani told me. “Her name was Gretchen, and her parents were on drugs. She went to court, I think, and they gave her the choice of going back to her parents, going into foster care, or being granted custody at Gunshot. She chose Gunshot. But it’s not easy there, I don’t think. Kids do have to work as well as go to school. Then I guess they get the choice of leaving at age eighteen. But many have said that it was like family, and better than being in some group home or foster home.” “I’m going,” I decided. “But I guess I have to contact social services first?” “Yes, you would. You’ll have to go to court, and the court will decide whether you have a case about leaving your dad and stepmom’s home, you know? And if it stands, you’ll be given the choice of Gunshot or foster care, I guess.” I was sitting at their kitchen table, drinking a cup of carrot juice. Lani was sitting at the table doing the same thing, and Kirk was leaning against the countertop, looking at the ground. He hadn’t said a word about this, and I could tell that he wasn’t sure that it was the right thing to do. “I’m going to call them on Monday,” I declared. Uncle Kirk looked pained, like he was going to cry. He looked over at Lani. They both knew, in their hearts, that there wasn’t much choice. I couldn’t go on being abused, but also did not want to risk the band breaking up. They knew they were going to lose me. We went out to a fancy restaurant that night. I was tall enough to fit into Kirk’s good clothes! I mean, they were a little bit big, but not enough to not be able to wear them. The dinner was somber and we all ate in silence. Finally, I spoke up. “Guys, don’t act like I’m about to die. I’m going to live a better life, and I’ll never forget you. I’ll try to stay in touch, honest,” I said. “Ryan, I don’t know about this,” Kirk finally spoke up. “You’re so young. I mean, if you were a little bit older, I think I’d support you. But nine?” “But how long can he go on like this?” Lani interjected. “Things are only going to get worse for him. That girl Gretchen, she was only about twelve, and she turned out okay.” “Twelve is feasible. Or, well, maybe. I don’t know.” “I’ve made up my mind,” I insisted. “I’m not taking their shit anymore.” Kirk was used to foul language being used all the time amongst the band of course, but he probably hadn’t seen children use it much. He buried his face in his hands. I was still at their house on Monday morning, so Uncle Kirk drove me to school. When we got there, he said, “If you’re going back to your dad’s house tonight . . . well don’t just leave out of nowhere. I at least want a proper goodbye.” “Of course,” I replied. “I couldn’t leave without a goodbye hug.” But I got my hug before school started, just in case. During lunch, Ben managed to look up the number for social services and copy it down for me. I could read the numbers, at least. I guess it turned out he could read, so who knows why he was back a grade. At the end of the day, Dad had not called saying that he would pick me up. So I dialed the number to social services. When done with that call, I called Uncle Kirk to pick me up and told him I’d made an appointment with social services. When we got back to his house, we had a goodbye party, just me, him and Lani. They spoiled me rotten and, at the end of the day, were in tears. “I wish we could adopt him,” said Lani. “If it wasn’t for the situation with the band . . .” “Please don’t, Lani,” Kirk groaned. “It just hurts too much to think about it. Plus it’s not even feasible if it wasn’t for the band.” They were on the couch, and I sat in their laps crying for the rest of the night. |
![]() |
|
| Lucifer's Angel | May 7, 2008, 4:55 pm Post #41 |
![]()
Heavy Metal Seanchai
![]() ![]() ![]()
|
Wow, what's going to happen next?
|
![]() |
|
| Lady Hammett | May 7, 2008, 5:04 pm Post #42 |
|
Poor Twisted Me
![]() ![]() ![]()
|
Ryan's life is sooooo going to change: So here is the skinny on Gunshot: It is run almost like a military base. It was once a company that produced firearms for the military and civilians. Each company had its own campus with training facilities. But it is no longer associated with military at all. They don’t even make firearms anymore. But they still have the campuses. Run by supervisors, people have the chance to go there, commit service while working an additional job, and work their way up like they would in military – without any type of contract. Children have this opportunity too if they have nowhere else to go, and are given a supervisor to legally be their guardian. Children who, of course, have been given up by their parents or do not have ties with parents anymore. That was why I had to go to court first, to be freed from my father’s custody. I won the court case on the grounds that I was abused by my father and stepmother. I was given over to the custody of Gunshot and Dad was denied any contact with me at all. So was Francesca, actually. So I guess it meant that Cali would not be allowed to contact me, either. I had not been able to bond with her at all. I’d hardly looked at her while living in that house, I realized. I regretted it only slightly, in the sense that she was an innocent baby that had done nothing wrong. But since Dad and Francesca favoritized her, she would probably just end up being a brat anyway. I didn’t see Kirk and Lani again after the night they’d thrown the goodbye party for me and I’d cried on their laps all night long. They didn’t dare show up at the court case. Neither did Jason, who was already in hot water with Dad over band-related matters. Kirk had told him about my decision, and he’d shown up at the goodbye party, but hardly said anything when he was there. He did hug me in the end however, and gave me a bass pedal for a gift. Lars was at the court case, though. He served as a witness to back up Dad that I was “never abused” and that Dad had been a “wonderful, loving father”. Yeah right! But of course, he had no idea, and was simply in denial about everything. So at the end, I did say goodbye to Lars, and he had wished me luck. I wished him luck too, because he now had a son of his own named Myles. Sometimes he’d dropped by Kirk’s house while I was there, with Myles in tow. I realized that I had seen and interacted with Myles more than my own half-sister, Cali. When I arrived at Gunshot, I was assigned a case worker, mentor, counselor, whatever you want to call him. His name was William Kennedy. He had bright red hair and a whacky sense of humor, and I immediately rapported with him. I was placed in a dorm. Well, they were called the Village Apartments, actually. See, the Gunshot premises is basically divided in two parts – the Village and the Nations. The Village is mostly residential, and the Nations with more administrative buildings. I don’t remember the story on why they got those names. Many counselors lived in the dorms – or Village Apartments – to oversee the kids that lived there. I enrolled at Matthew Lidlow School and was told to report to a school guidance counselor before starting. You’re probably wondering about work. Well, we did do work, but it wasn’t hard at all. The only work we were required to do was called “desk duty”, where we would help the administrative offices once a week with filing and paperwork and whatnot! I couldn’t read, but nobody made me read. All I had to do was stack papers and sort them, basically. When I began school, I was introduced to my guidance counselor. The guidance counselor also had a Ph.D on learning disabilities. His name was Dr. Clark. Good – maybe I would finally learn why the hell I couldn’t read. It must have been a serious disability. So could you imagine my shock when I learned that all I had was a mild form of dyslexia? And that if somebody had addressed it as early as Kindergarten, I would have been given the help I needed to read according to my age level, starting at age five? That made me mad. Dr. Clark made dyslexia sound like it was no big deal, and that children diagnosed at age five usually progressed with reading well because they were given special teaching in order to read properly. Great! I freaked out at this news. I was nine and a half, approaching ten, and I still couldn’t read at all because grown-ups were too stupid to have helped me. Now what? It wasn’t too late, Dr. Clark insisted. I just needed a private tutor to help me until I was ready to be put into the regular classes. Geez. That sounded familiar – like when Mr. Sherry tried to do the same thing back at Sunrise Elementary? If Dad had just let him take me aside and put me in the SLD class, they would have discovered that I had dyslexia, and I would have been fine. So of course I got angry at my father again for that. So each day I went to Lidlow School and worked with a guy named Mr. Martin, who’d had a lot of experience teaching kids with dyslexia. And I learned how to read! I was learning fast! I felt like dancing. For the first time ever, I actually enjoyed school. I had lunch with all the other kids, and actually made a couple friends. One of them was Jamie Bennett, whose uncle was Anthony Bennett – another counselor that basically did the same work as William. One day at lunch an older boy caught my eye. He was about fifteen, probably, with long, wild curly black hair. He looked just like Uncle Kirk, but was darker skinned and slightly more Asian-looking. He was eerily familiar. He had dimples like Uncle Kirk, similar mannerisms, and made facial expressions like his. But his personality wasn’t like Kirk’s. He was outgoing and popular, and enjoyed being in the center of attention. I felt odd. Something was up, surely. I told Jamie this, but he asked whether I was gay! “I’m not gay!” I exclaimed. “No way, man. I don’t like him! There’s just something familiar, like he reminds me of someone I know.” After school, I saw him bid farewell to his friends, then start walking. I decided to follow him. It’s not easy to follow people when you’re tall, but I pulled it off. I followed him as he walked down to River Town Road, over to the main parking lot, his curly black hair flapping in the breeze behind him. I watched as he got on a motorcycle and took off out of the parking lot. He did not notice me, thank God, as he swerved out onto River Town Road. At that point, I decided to give up. What was the point in becoming a creepy stalker? It must have been a coincidence that he looked like Uncle Kirk. Kirk didn’t have any kids, and I didn’t know this guy, and that was the end of it. |
![]() |
|
| Lucifer's Angel | May 7, 2008, 7:02 pm Post #43 |
![]()
Heavy Metal Seanchai
![]() ![]() ![]()
|
Yeah, who is that guy? And Gunshot sounds a lot better than his home, I do wonder if he's gay though?
|
![]() |
|
| Lady Hammett | May 7, 2008, 8:37 pm Post #44 |
|
Poor Twisted Me
![]() ![]() ![]()
|
No, he isn't. It was the familiarity that threw him off guard, not attraction of any kind haha. |
![]() |
|
| Lady Hammett | May 7, 2008, 8:48 pm Post #45 |
|
Poor Twisted Me
![]() ![]() ![]()
|
Ryan continues to narrate: I have trouble explaining a lot of things about Gunshot, because they’re complex, and I’m not the smartest person in the world as you’ve already figured out. But I found out why Gunshot was so hush-hush and we’re not allowed to talk about to people in the outside world. I’m going to tell you about it by giving the description that a friend of mine – whom you’ll meet later in my story – gave to others: People in the Next Dimension, one of the various working teams at Gunshot, had discovered a way to manipulate time. It is scientific fact that if people could travel at the speed of light, they could travel into the future. If we could travel faster than the speed of light, we could travel into the past. The only reason why people have not been able to do it before is that, if anyone could travel that fast, their body could not physically handle it and it would be destroyed. But people at GUNSHOT had found a way to manipulate physics - through the shifting of molecules - and they could successfully travel through time via the speed of light! Two members of the Next Dimension, Nicolei Truyvex and Mary Salinas, had done a test. They each went back in time and changed one major element in history. With each change came two completely different tangents, or worlds. As a result of these changes in history, different things happened and different people existed. To my alarm, the world I was born into was not the original world that these people had experimented from! My world, the Truyvex world, had come about because Nicolei Truyvex had changed history. He was an environmentalist who was concerned about the overpopulation of the original world, so he went back to the 1700's when America settled and somehow proved the overpopulation problem to our early government. As a result, a two-child per couple law was enacted and therefore America's population in my world was much slimmer! (The law was later abolished when the threat of overpopulation wasn’t apparent). I was astonished to learn that I did not exist in the original world (Author's Note: this is our world, guys!), nor the Salinas world! So what did I learn? The same thing as my friend who authored that, basically. I, Ryan Hetfield, am from the Salinas world. But I don’t exist in the original world or the Truyvex world! Crazy, right? I learned that Metallica existed in all three. But would you believe that Cliff did not die in the Truyvex world? See, because history changed, different people were born. And a different bus driver had driven them on that night – at least in the Truyvex world they did. And Cliff was still alive to this day in their world. I wondered what life would have been like with Cliff instead of Jason . . . Later, I would learn something else about Metallica in the Truyvex world that would knock my socks off. But I’m getting there. After Truyvex and Salinas went back and changed those tangents, I guess people at Gunshot decided to put a stop to any other activity like that. Now, people were not allowed to use the time machine unless they had a pass, and were closely monitored as not to disrupt any more history or events. I was very interested in all this, and now that I could finally read, I kept wanting to know more and more. I read all about it at the local Gunshot library, and even started some writings of my own on random thoughts. I loved to read and write now that I could do it! I made more friends at school. Then one day, I was invited to a party on Longacres Way in the Village. To my surprise, the person hosting it was none other than the Kirk lookalike! |
![]() |
|
| 1 user reading this topic (1 Guest and 0 Anonymous) | |
| Go to Next Page | |
| « Previous Topic · Inactive Metallica Fan Fictions · Next Topic » |





![]](http://z1.ifrm.com/static/1/pip_r.png)




No wonder he wants to go on tour with them. At least he gets some peace and quiet. And I don't like that Fran is flirting with Kirk, that's not good for either of them. I hope his dancing works out

And James is only getting worse, Ben seems like a good kid, I just think James wants his son to be miserable 
8:49 PM Jul 10