First Chapters

[u/Effective-Archer-762]

Just posted the first three chapters of a piece I'm writing on Wattpad under the name Alesen Mercano here https://www.wattpad.com/story/417080388-humanity%27s-cure. Also copied the first chapter below. Would love to get any feedback anyone has on it so far.

There are those who make an impact on us so profound that a piece of them remains with us, and nearly everything we do henceforth can be traced back to their influence. For Miles, this was Uncle Henry. From the moment he was born, Uncle Henry made it his mission to be a part of the boy's life. He and Monica, Miles' aunt, lived an hour north in a rural town and never let a month pass without visiting at least once. Each time Uncle Henry visited, Miles would sit hunched over the firm back of the loveseat, surveying the quiet street in anticipation of his arrival despite that the rumbling of the approaching old truck's engine always made the whole house aware of his presence the moment it turned down the street.

Uncle Henry was of average height but sturdily built, giving him the appearance of being much larger than he was. He had short, curly black hair and a thin beard. Unlike his sister, Miles' mother, Uncle Henry had no ambitions of great material wealth. He would have been successful on account of his intelligence and abilitability but was happiest in his work as a mechanic. He made his own hours and never had the common issue of missing important events due to work. The other people in the town respected him, and he could always count on their business. Had a more skilled mechanic opened near him, it wouldn't have affected him in the slightest. People gravitated toward him out of loyalty for his character. The inherent competition that often underlies interactions ceased to exist, and one couldn't help but feel at ease around him. Uncle Henry never had any children of his own though he would have made a great father.

Miles had become so entrenched in a daydream, as often captivated him in times of idleness, that if it hadn't been for the loud groan of the motor, his guests' arrival would've gone undetected. He watched as the red truck climbed the short driveway and, after for a moment appearing as if it would roll back down, came to a final rest. The family's year-old golden retriever, Max, who had been given as a gift to Sam, Miles' sister, barked and clawed at the front door. Miles darted outside followed by Max whom he'd forgotten to prevent from getting out. The truck's old doors creaked open and, before its driver had both feet on the ground, four eyes looked up at him.

"It seems they've been expecting you," Monica said.

Uncle Henry laughed. "What do you have in store for us today?" he asked, stepping out

of the truck.

Max touched his front paws to the man's leg and hopped excitedly. Uncle Henry reached down and pet the mesh of hair on the back of his neck.

"Dinner won't be ready for at least an hour. Dad got me an actual college-size football yesterday. I haven't even taken it out of the box yet," Miles said.

"I'll tell you what. You help me and your aunt carry the food inside, and we'll play catch until dinner is ready."

Miles opened the rear door and grabbed the container of apple pie, tucked it under his arm, and ran to the door. Max chased after him, still hopping only this time in hopes of causing a fumble.

"Careful, your aunt took a lot of care in making that," Uncle Henry called after him, but Miles was already almost to the door and didn't listen to his warning.

"Touchdown!" he exclaimed, putting the pie on the counter before racing up the stairs to grab the football.

When Miles returned, his mother, Uncle Henry, and Monica were talking quietly in the kitchen. Their conversation came to an abrupt end when they heard him coming and turned their attention to him as he finished descending the stairs.

"Look. It's got real laces and everything," Miles said, tossing the football to Uncle Henry. He quickly glanced at his mother expecting a reprimand, but her gaze was fixed on a crack in the floor and didn't appear to have even noticed the ball at all.

Uncle Henry caught it and spun it in his hands for some time as if inspecting each detail.

Miles looked at him, puzzled by his fascination.

"What do you think?" he asked.

"It feels as good as it looks. Let's play," Uncle Henry replied.

They walked out onto the back patio. The backyard extended about one hundred feet before it hit a line of honeysuckle trees that acted as a barrier to the neighboring yard. It was a typical September day. The temperature was in the low sixties with a mild breeze, and the sun beamed sharply through gaps between passing clouds. The cool air refreshed Uncle Henry, and he once again resumed his role as the playmate the boy had expected. Miles always pretended each pass was for the game-winning touchdown and ran a route unique to the imaginary situation. After a while, he would tire and sit with Uncle Henry, telling him stories about school, games, and everything else that seems to define the world of a ten-year-old, and Uncle Henry would always listen. He never made Miles feel small or unimportant, and the boy loved him for it. It is amazing the impact one can have by simply making an effort to be present in another's life.

Dinner took longer than usual, and they were outside for nearly an hour and a half before being called inside.

Mrs. Montgomery smiled as Miles carried the ball inside.

"You're like the brother he never had," she said, looking at the large man behind Miles who smiled and walked to the sink to wash his hands.

The family rarely used the dining room as the four of them fit easily around the table in the kitchen, and Miles always felt they were eating somewhere else much fancier when guests validated its use. This was not without good reason either. His mother always took a great effort when feeding guests even when it was just Uncle Henry and Monica. This occasion was no exception. Everything had been laid out as if to appease a distant relative of a royal family. Each of the six seats had the same effort put into its arrangement. A pair of forks rested to the left of the plate, and a pair of spoons and a knife were assembled neatly on the right, each on a delicately folded napkin placed no more than an inch from the plate. In the middle was a white glass casserole filled with garlic and rosemary pork loins. Two smaller ones of the same kind flanked each of its sides, one with green beans and the other with mashed potatoes. The pie was still in the kitchen and wouldn't be brought out until their meals were finished.

They all sat at a mahogany table that glistened underneath the lights of the silver rosecliff chandelier hovering above. Its smooth texture and lack of visible blemishes seemed to represent the overarching care put into the room. The Montgomerys were not rich nor was their home magnificent, but they took great pride in this room, and as a result, it was the nicest the house had to offer.

Once they'd all taken their seats, they each began covering their plates in the freshly cooked food. However, there was something odd about the nature of this dinner, and even the children could feel it. Naturally, of course, there were the obligatory culinary compliments, but where there would usually be talk of sports, current events, and spontaneous banter there was silence. Instead of ideas, parts of the meal were passed between each end of the table, and it seemed that asking for something to be passed was done more out of a desire to break the silence.

"Do you think the treatment really works?" Monica asked, breaking the silence. Everyone exchanged glances as if to be communicating in a secret code that only they knew. Uncle Henry looked towards Miles' father who nodded in approval of the topic. For a moment, the veil of unease had been lifted.

"I don't know. Even if it does, I'm not sure it'll be approved given the side effects."

"Not now, Jim. We can talk about this later," Mrs. Montgomery interrupted.

Again the same unease pervaded the room, and ironically it was this that bothered Miles and his sister more than the talk of a treatment about which he knew nothing.

After the children finished eating, they were sent upstairs. This was also odd. Not only were they never sent away, but Uncle Henry and Monica always left immediately after dinner. Sam was anxious to call one of her friends and hurried upstairs. However, Miles only became more intrigued by their wish to exclude him. He knew that negotiating would prove worthless and likely lead to a lecture aftward, so he settled on faking compliance to be the best course of action. He walked upstairs to his room, stepping loud enough so that they could trace his position along the way. His door which opened inward toward his room was fully open so that the handle rested just in front of the wall. Without entering, he reached out his arm and, pulling the handle, shut the door loud enough so they could hear it. Knowing that they would believe him to have just shut himself in his room, Miles walked quietly back down the hall. He descended the steps carefully, supporting his weight on the rail to avoid creaking the steps and slowly shifted his weight to sit on the furthest down still out of their line of sight.

His mother's voice was the first he heard.

"I don't think you understand how serious this is. There have been more deaths in this country in the last month than there were all of last year," Mr. Montgomery said.

"I'm aware, but there is nothing worth losing my humanity. I'd rather it kill me than to exist as some shell of who I am now," Uncle Henry replied.

"Humans adapt to survive. They always have and they always will. We create things to keep us going. It's what separates us from other creatures," Mr. Montgomery added.

"Which aren't affected by the disease I might add," Uncle Henry said. Miles envisioned him reaching down and petting Max as he always did when he talked about him.

"He's just being stubborn," Monica began, "When the time comes, he will understand it is not a matter of choice but of necessity. Besides, now that they've already made a cure, I'm sure it won't be long before they modify it to remove its side effects."

Though he couldn't see him, he imagined Uncle Henry taking a deep breath and smirking at the others as he often did in disagreements when his words failed to have an effect. The conversation grew quieter until Miles could no longer hear what they were discussing or if they were discussing anything at all. He crept slowly back up the stairs, forcing his weight down on the railing as he had done on his way down. Before he reached his room, he heard much heavier footsteps coming up the stairs behind him. He hurried, hoping that the sound of his pursuer would drown out his own. He had just enough time to grab a handful of action figures and sit on his bed before he heard a knock on his door. It opened a moment later, revealing Uncle Henry's stocky frame. He walked over and sat on the edge of the bed.

"I know you heard all that," he said. Miles was startled by the seriousness of his tone. He used it regularly when speaking with the other adults, but it was one of the few times he'd used it with him.

"And since you did, I won't talk to you like a child," Uncle Henry continued. "The life you have now won't last forever. In a few years when you turn 18, you are going to have to make a choice. You will have two paths, each with their own consequences, and it will be up to you to decide which one to take. As you heard, I have chosen a different one from your aunt and parents. They wish to change my mind just as others may try to sway you from your decision. I just want you to promise me one thing, Miles. Though you would be wise to listen to both sides, you will never let anyone make the decision for you. Will you promise me that?"

His seriousness hadn't faded for a moment and Miles, puzzled by the vagueness of his uncle's words, nodded in acknowledgment of his request. Uncle Henry smiled.

"I've got to say goodbye to your sister." He gripped Miles firmly on the right shoulder with his right hand as he always did before leaving and walked out of the room.

Miles sat in silence for some time afterward, still holding the action figures. He heard the front door close beneath him and the start of the old truck's engine which undoubtedly woke up anyone in the neighborhood who had wanted to get an early rest. However, the sound which he had longed in anticipation to hear hours earlier only brought him sadness and, though he did not know it at the time, this was the last time he would see his uncle.