There are somethings that happen in life that is plain weird and uncanny. For example all the Alex's I have ever met have been ridiculously good looking and also (not in a bad way) aware of their beauty. And this got me thinking. What if, this Alex, this character in my script is developed where he is an Adonis but really has no clue. Growing up a true minger like his creator (me) he craves the sort of attention available to heroes in books but rarely available in real life. What if this Alex is a tragic tragic character as his looks do not make up for his obvious geekiness?
I love this character, he is my faveourite so far. And as the title suggests, this is his story. His background, and how he has been formed into what he is today.
Enjoy xx
The Story
of Alex
Once upon a
time, long, long ago as the stars burned brightly in the sky a lady screamed
and pushed, moaned and groaned and a baby was born. He arrived into the world
head first, slipped from the nurses’ arms and fell almost in slow motion onto
the floor. A horrified silence ensued as the Mother and Father of the
unfortunate infant stared at the nurse wide eyed and open mouthed. The Nurse
stared back, a mirror reflection and then as though a secret hand was
controlling a remote, everything speeded up. The Mother screamed a little more,
digging her nails deeper into her husband’s hand, who, let’s face it, had to
take it. It was, after all, his fault she had gone through all this, his fault
that she had a 48hour labour and ultimately his fault that the baby had been
dropped. The Nurse quickly bent down on all fours and scooped the baby up into
her arms and started to wipe him off as though the 3 second rule applied to
brand new babies as well as food dropped onto the floor. The Mother continued
her screaming the Father held in the searing pain, the medical team ran around
pointlessly and just as suddenly as everything had speeded up it all stopped. The
invisible hand pressed down once again on the remote as the tiny creature let
out a loud wail and began to cry. In slow motion the Nurse, beaming, covered
the baby with a fresh white towel and looking at the other beaming staff handed
the precious cargo to the Mother. Arms outstretched, sweat covering her
forehead she took the baby and held him close, smelling him. Slowly she looked
up at her husband, who was also beaming as he now had his hand back, albeit
slightly bleeding. The Mother slowly moved the baby pressed against her chest
onto her forearm so she could get a good look at her little prince.
Now, this
is where it goes a little wrong. Well a little more wrong. You see, unlike
other children who solicit happy smiles and tears of joy from brand new parents
this baby facing his parents for the first time stared into their disgusted
faces. They looked at each other knowing God had played a cruel cruel and the proverbial
shit had indeed hit the fan. Poor baby, he was so ugly his parents treated him
like a slave as he grew up, forcing him to live alone in the attic and in true
Victorian style sweep all day long. The child was neglected and unloved;
surviving on the scraps he could find in the kitchen as his parents happily
forgot his existence. Dressed in his scrappy hand-me-downs from God knows where
he sat beside his window, looked out onto the sprawling garden and wiped fresh
tears from his cheeks. It was a Cinderella story, only without the happy
ending.
ONLY KIDDING!
Alexander Jeramiah Frederick Jones (yes, that
really is his name), was born on December 25th 1985 to Francesca
Frederick (yes, really) and Jonanthan Jones (God really does have a sense of
humour). Although little Alex’s arrival into the world was a bumpy beginning he
was the apple of his parents eye. Their only child they spoilt him rotten and
Alex loved all the attention. He enjoyed a good few normal years of his childhood,
looking normal. But one day as the seasons changed and the weather man warned
people to watch out for thunderstorms a strange thing happened. Alex looking in
the mirror whilst brushing his teeth for bedtime noticed quite a few physical changes.
The moon shone coldly, pleased with its fullness as Alex, brush in mouth peered
closely at his face. Where there were once two clearly defined eyebrows, now
there was one. His new adult teeth were growing crooked and had large gaps.
Thickish hair sprouted out of his ears and pulsing spots covered his spots. He
was as ugly as a sunset is beautiful.
His parents pretended not to notice, they loved
him dearly and unconditionally like in all good stories and films. Alex
however, noticed. No one wanted to play with him, he was revolting. He would
walk the halls of his school alone, sad and as lonely and tragic as tumbleweed
in the desert. Girls would cup their hands over their mouths and whisper as he
drifted by, stink lines emitting from his body; he had become The Last Man on
Earth. Kissing a rabid dog, according to one game, was far more appealing than
kissing him. Craving friends he tried to join in with his fellow rejects, the
kids with the bottle glasses and nasty drool on the sides of their faces. They
told him he was bringing them all down and as they had a reputation to protect
he had to sod off. Poor Alex. But as destiny would have it with not a friend in
the world he turned to books. Sitting knees up beside the kind of heater that
is illegal these days he would read and read and read. Imitating the characters
he would curl up in a blanket with a hot chocolate and completely disappear
into the magical world of words and colours. Where animals spoke, and frogs
turned to princes. Where young friends solved mysteries and sisters plodded
together. A place where good overcame bad and every story had a moral. Alex
became adept at mastering long hard quotes until they formed a part of his
memories. He began to believe in his stories, in happy endings and prayed to
the invisible hand which had manipulated the remote control of time at his
birth that his prayers come true.
Then one day, as poor unloved Alexander Jeremiah
Frederick Jones now sixteen and still as ugly as sin got dressed for bed he
sent his usual prayer to the heavens, and for the first time Alex felt truly
happy. As he looked out his bedroom window at the falling snow and the
Christmas lights that decorated his neighbourhood indicating that his birthday
and the celebration of another famous persons’ birthday was close, he felt
light and for some reason delighted. He had never felt this rush before and
pulled back the duvet on his bed excited to sleep and start the next day. It
was a strange feeling as though something was going to happen. Something
exciting and Alex knew as he was in on the secret. He fell asleep and when he
awoke the next day, a miracle happened.
The snow had settled over everything like a
thick coat of icing, covering the cars and the forgotten bicycles in the neighbours’
garden. Alex breathed a cold cloud onto the glass, wrote his name with his
index finger as was his morning ritual and walked to the bathroom. Putting
toothpaste onto brush and inserting it into his mouth it quickly fell out and
landed toothpaste first onto the floor as Alex screamed as loudly as he could
on seeing his reflection. Something had happened.
Even to his own eyes he was a changed young man. The nasty puffy beard that
looked like an accumulation of belly button fluff which had covered his face in
tragic blotches had thickened overnight and looked like a soft manly beard. His
eyebrows agreeing it was time to let go had decided to part ways after all
these years and he could definitely see the changes in his teeth beneath the
train tracks. The comic stink lines were no more, and as Alex raised one arm
after the other to smell his pits he smiled knowing, finally he did not stink
anymore. His hair was not the unruly fro of his younger days but for some
reason has softened into loose, manageable waves. He stared open mouthed;
unintentionally impersonating the look of horror his parents and the Nurse had
all those years ago as he slipped, ugly slime ball onto the floor with a thud.
Alex touched his face, pinched his arm and ran downstairs screaming that his
Mum take him to the orthodontist right now, right this instance.
Alex was now a full on hottie, he was an
Adonis, girls wanted to be with him and boys wanted to be him. His looks
constantly generated third glances, women stopped and stared and men glowered. God
was pleased with Alex. He rewarded him for all his years of suffering with the
kind of attention Alex had coveted his entire life. But poor Alex, unused to
having anyone in his life had no clue what to do. The people he felt closest
too, with his intimate knowledge and love of literature were the geeks. They
however, unused to having anyone with straight set of teeth hanging out with
them told him what they told him all those years ago: Sod off Alex. Poor Alex
really did have a bad time with friends. He just didn’t know what to do. The
girls that once rejected him now threw themselves at him, but Alex was even
worse with girls. An only child, absolutely no friends or anyone to talk to, he
did what came naturally; he turned to the written word. Buying as many women’s
magazines as was possible with his pocket money he began to read them like Holy
Scripture. He subscribed to as many as possible and followed through on
everything he could hoping he would be more appealing to the ladies. The ladies
however, attracted to his good looks soon got bored of what they perceived as
his moody broody character, branded him spineless and or gay (mainly because he
never made the first move) and moved onto the kind of bad boys that most girls
at that age want.
So Alex was in a weird in between place. He had the looks he always
wanted, he had the physical attention he always wanted but he was still as
alone as he had ever been. He stared longingly at the tight circles of friends and
just like when he was younger he walked the halls of his school alone. He
turned, once again, to his old books, engrossing himself with the stories befriending
new characters as his own. Now a young man and one with modelesque features he
sat on the edge of his bed, lonely and pained and once again prayed to the
Invisible. The usual, simple prayer of his childhood.
