Read Online The Wild Things by Dave Eggers - Free Book Online
Authors: Dave Eggers
Tags: Fiction, Literary, General, Popular American Fiction, Coming of Age, All Ages, Voyages and travels, Fantasy fiction, Runaway children, Bildungsromans, Children's Books, Fiction - Fantasy, Fantasy, Fantasy - Contemporary, Islands, Media Tie-In - General, Movie novels, Media Tie-In, Contemporary
Ads: Link
here in the woods. All he needed to do, sometime soon, would be to sneak back into the house and get more of his things -- his knives, some matches, some blankets and glue and rope. Then he would build a forest home, high in the trees, and become one with the woods and the animals, learn their languages and with them plot an overthrow of his home, beginning with the decapitation and devouring of Gary.
As he planned his new life, he heard a sound. It wasn't the wind and it wasn't the trees. It was a scraping, yearning sound. He paused, his nose and ears pricking up. Again he heard it. It was like bone against bone, though there was a rhythm to it. He followed it toward the water, a hundred yards away. He jogged down the ravine and met the stream that led to the shore. He jumped from rock to rock until he saw the bay's black glass, cut through the middle by the reflection of the moon.
At the water's edge, amid the reeds and the softly lapping waves, he saw the source of the noise: a wooden sailboat of average size and painted white. It was tied to a tree and was rubbing against a half-submerged rock.
Max looked around to see if anyone was close. It seemed strange that a boat like this, a sturdy, viable boat, would be unoccupied. He had been coming to this bay for years and had never seen a boat like this, alone and without an owner. There was no sign of anyone near. The boat was his if he wanted it.
CHAPTER XIII
He stepped in. There was just a bit of water on the floor, and when he checked the rudder and sail and boom, everything seemed to be in working order.
If he wanted to, he could untie the boat and sail out into the bay. It would be better than just living out his days in the forest. He could sail away, as far as he liked. He might make it somewhere new, somewhere better, and if he didn't -- if he drowned in the bay or the ocean beyond -- then so be it. His horrible family would have to live forever with the guilt. Either option seemed good.
He reached back toward shore, untied the boat from the tree, and pushed off.
He righted the boat and aimed it toward the center of the bay. He unfurled the sail and steadied the boom. The wind was strong; in no time he was chopping through the bay's small waves, heading due north.
He had sailed at night only once before, with his father, and even that had been unplanned. They'd gotten stuck out in the bay without wind, and hadn't brought a paddle. They'd passed the time naming every candy they could remember and playing hangman with a grease marker on the boat's floor. It occurred to Max at that moment that he didn't have any of the safety items his father insisted on -- a life preserver, a paddle, a flare gun, a bailing vessel. The boat was empty but for Max.
And he was getting cold. Max was wearing only his wolf suit, and by the time he reached the middle of the bay and the wind began to bite, he realized that it was December, and no more than forty degrees, and it was getting colder the farther out into the lake he ventured. When he'd been running and howling, he hadn't felt the rip of the winter wind, but now it cut through his fur -- and his T-shirt and underwear, for that's all he was wearing underneath -- unimpeded.
He wouldn't be able to sail this way for long. He certainly wouldn't make it through the night; his teeth were already chattering. So he decided to sail not into the ocean but toward the city, to head to his father's place downtown. This immediately seemed a better idea all around. He would sail downtown, dock with all the yachts, walk through the city until he found his father's apartment, and ring the bell.
Wow, he'd be surprised! He knew his father would be proud of him when he arrived. He'd be astounded and impressed and they would live together from then on. All he needed to do was sail north for a few hours and keep his eye on the lights in the distance. He could make out the dim glow of the city on the horizon, and he felt strong again, knowing he
As he planned his new life, he heard a sound. It wasn't the wind and it wasn't the trees. It was a scraping, yearning sound. He paused, his nose and ears pricking up. Again he heard it. It was like bone against bone, though there was a rhythm to it. He followed it toward the water, a hundred yards away. He jogged down the ravine and met the stream that led to the shore. He jumped from rock to rock until he saw the bay's black glass, cut through the middle by the reflection of the moon.
At the water's edge, amid the reeds and the softly lapping waves, he saw the source of the noise: a wooden sailboat of average size and painted white. It was tied to a tree and was rubbing against a half-submerged rock.
Max looked around to see if anyone was close. It seemed strange that a boat like this, a sturdy, viable boat, would be unoccupied. He had been coming to this bay for years and had never seen a boat like this, alone and without an owner. There was no sign of anyone near. The boat was his if he wanted it.
CHAPTER XIII
He stepped in. There was just a bit of water on the floor, and when he checked the rudder and sail and boom, everything seemed to be in working order.
If he wanted to, he could untie the boat and sail out into the bay. It would be better than just living out his days in the forest. He could sail away, as far as he liked. He might make it somewhere new, somewhere better, and if he didn't -- if he drowned in the bay or the ocean beyond -- then so be it. His horrible family would have to live forever with the guilt. Either option seemed good.
He reached back toward shore, untied the boat from the tree, and pushed off.
He righted the boat and aimed it toward the center of the bay. He unfurled the sail and steadied the boom. The wind was strong; in no time he was chopping through the bay's small waves, heading due north.
He had sailed at night only once before, with his father, and even that had been unplanned. They'd gotten stuck out in the bay without wind, and hadn't brought a paddle. They'd passed the time naming every candy they could remember and playing hangman with a grease marker on the boat's floor. It occurred to Max at that moment that he didn't have any of the safety items his father insisted on -- a life preserver, a paddle, a flare gun, a bailing vessel. The boat was empty but for Max.
And he was getting cold. Max was wearing only his wolf suit, and by the time he reached the middle of the bay and the wind began to bite, he realized that it was December, and no more than forty degrees, and it was getting colder the farther out into the lake he ventured. When he'd been running and howling, he hadn't felt the rip of the winter wind, but now it cut through his fur -- and his T-shirt and underwear, for that's all he was wearing underneath -- unimpeded.
He wouldn't be able to sail this way for long. He certainly wouldn't make it through the night; his teeth were already chattering. So he decided to sail not into the ocean but toward the city, to head to his father's place downtown. This immediately seemed a better idea all around. He would sail downtown, dock with all the yachts, walk through the city until he found his father's apartment, and ring the bell.
Wow, he'd be surprised! He knew his father would be proud of him when he arrived. He'd be astounded and impressed and they would live together from then on. All he needed to do was sail north for a few hours and keep his eye on the lights in the distance. He could make out the dim glow of the city on the horizon, and he felt strong again, knowing he
Similar Books
