Westley's Daytime Daze annotated 2

Okay, so this is the version that I have to read for the judges tomorrow. I need to cut it down a whole page! Please help me take out the fluff! Maybe you could post it again with things i should take out underlined. Then i could find it in my word document and erase it. If you just delete it it will take much longer. Much appreciated!

Kiera Wolfe
Periods 4-5
Westley’s Daytime Daze (Annotated Version)
Westley was running for his life, again. The tails of his jacket flowed behind him, giving him the appearance of a giant bird, fleeing from the jaws of a snake. Westley’s snake however, was giant, and incredibly vicious. He wasn’t really sure what it was, the humongous fleshy body, pursuing him relentlessly and remarkably quickly for its incredible bulk. But whatever it was, it wanted to kill him, like everything else he had been evading in this desolate field. He looked back nervously, his auburn hair whipping into his face and stinging his pale gray eyes. The monster’s frightening smile, lopsided and hideous, revealed what could be his near future, a slow and painful death. He elongated his stride and quickened his pace, now once again looking toward the ghastly landscape ahead of him. A ruined city sprawled around him, windows broken, ghastly lampposts were falling over from the dark black rust spreading over their bases. Scenes of terrible accidents were thrown everywhere like abandoned children’s toys. At the end of the street he was on, he saw the spiny, tangled trees of a barren forest looming in the distance. If he could just reach the wood, his pursuer would not be able to fit through the narrow spaces in between the dead plants. He prayed that the foliage was strong enough that his attacker would not be able to just barrel through it.
The bottoms of his sneakers were paper thin, the result of all the sprinting. His heels were pokeing through the soles and his toes were emerging from the fronts. He took his mind off his aching feet and forced himself to re-check his surroundings. He knew he had to be aware of everything going on, for he had been ambushed far too many times. The usual turmoil surrounded him.. At the corner of is peripheral vision he saw a faint shadow lurking in a sickly tinged phone booth. He tried to look around the dark red splotches on the windows and on the inside of the door. But the shadow was his first hint, he was getting closer. His eyes pierced through the gloom, trying to locate a hidden key to his salvation. As he sprinted the last few feet to the wood, he saw what he was searching for, a creamy elixir placed on a nearby stump. The beast growled furiously, snapping at him through thick, spindly branches, teeth seeking his flesh. He grabbed the substance and drank greedily from the delicate flask.
As the last drop trickled down his throat, he was transported to a totally different setting, he sighed with relief as he slid into a rickety chair at his kitchen table, The jolly yellow counters and cheerful tune floating around the room started to slow his panting heart, He smiled as he saw the source of the music, his mother was whistling a giddy tune as she cooked breakfast. He sighed with relief, and started to fill his lungs with the clean air of reality. His mother turned and her lips curved into a frown.
“Westley I’m worried about how your condition is worsening. I mean, you can barely stay awake for breakfast!”
Westley sighed and accepted the plate of steaming food that she handed to him. “So,” his mother continued, “I have planned another doctor’s visit.” Westley groaned. He had been to more doctors than he could count.
“What’s so different about this guy that all the others didn’t have?”
“Well, that is for him to know and for us to find out”. She smiled in her optimistic way, and tapped his nose playfully. His mother could always cheer him up from his otherwise permanent bad mood. “And I see you will need a brand new pair of sneakers.” She pulled the ragged pair of useless cloth off of his feet and threw them in the corner with pile of their kinsman. She then pulled out her giant First Aid kit and started to treat his many wounds. She stitched up a particularly deep gash on his leg where one monster or another had bit him. She sewed with the ease of practice and grabbed a jacket off the coat rack. “We leave now! Let’s go.”
Westley strapped himself into their tiny Corolla and looked back at his sunflower yellow home. He sighed as the yellow started to swirl around his vision, his mother looked back just in time to see him pass out.
When Westley opened his eyes, he was laying spread eagle on the ground. Everything was tinged with gray, like an old fashioned movie. He looked behind him and saw a Corolla, with huge chunks that appeared to be bite marks ruining the front. He forced himself not to look inside, knowing he wouldn’t like what he would see. He thought of his mother as he took the first step down the street. The few people he passed seemed to be faceless. As they skulked along their paths Westley tried to stay unnoticed. He pulled his hood up over his head and walked with the same grim manner as the actual inhabitants the town. But it was a futile attempt. As he turned a corner, he found himself face to face with a giant. He ran. As he flew by the normal citizens of the faceless town, his hood flew back, revealing his face and his brown hair, making him, a target. A shadow waved at him from the top of a nearby building and pointed to his right. He flew into the store in that direction shut and padlocked the door. He had enough of a head start to pile a bookcase in front of it too. That would hold off the normal sized ones but it would only stand a couple minutes against his gargantuan friend. He looked around frantically for a few seconds then hit the jackpot. On a dimly lit counter there was a heavy flask filled with his favorite creamy liquid. He chugged the whole thing as he heard the crash of the first monster breaking through the door.
Westley shook his head and brushed the dirt and grime off of his body. He was propped up in a chair in the waiting room. Westley’s mother grabbed him by the arm as soon as he was starting to get comfortable. She pulled him into the maze of whitewashed walls and into the room where the doctor would meet them.
“Sweetie, Dr. Lawson will be here soon and it is imperative you stay awake.” Westley nodded sleepily, trying to force his eyelids open was a losing battle though. He started to apologize earnestly but stopped midway as he swayed over. The last sound he heard was the crackle of his head hitting the thin paper covering the leather bench.
He was tied to a chair, and a blindfold was covering his eyes. He smelled the sweet aroma of a feast, but with an olden tinge. His blindfold was removed and he was sitting in a damp cell. There was a thin bed of straw on the ground and a hole in the corner. A haggard old man sat on a three legged stool just outside of his cell.
Westley gasped. He could see right through the old man. He disregarded this fact and turned to face the cage problem. Well he hadn’t eaten since the morning so slipping through the bars was no big problem. They seemed to have been made for a more rotund figure. He slipped up the spiral stone staircase that was in the corner of the room and grabbed a torch off of the wall. Once he reached the top he saw a most peculiar sight. It seemed to resemble pictures he had seen of medieval times. But that still wasn’t the weirdest thing about the scene. Just like the old man downstairs, he could see through all of the great lords and ladies feasting at the table of their king. They were obviously ghosts of some sort, but their food was quite real. As he started to sneak around in the merry confusion, checking all of their goblets for milky mixtures, they seemed to notice him all at once. Their jolly expressions seemed to melt off of their faces and were replaced by ferocious glares. Slowly he backed away into the wall, but it was too late. All of feasters hefted anything sharp within range and started to throw them at the boy invading the castle. Westley glanced around helplessly, looking for an escape. Sitting in the high king’s seat was a darkly defined shadow; it nodded at him and toasted him with its flask. As Westley stared he saw a milky white drop spray over the edge and land on the king’s food. He launched himself into the air and somersaulted onto the table. He dodged most of the projectiles but a particularly thick carving knife stuck into his thigh. He braced himself against the pain and continued to run, sprinting toward the head of the table. He grabbed the king’s flask easily, seeing as the shadow was no longer there, and downed the whole thing in one gulp. The shriek of clanking armor filled his ears as the world went black.
When Westley awoke, his head was pounding like a drum. A tall man in a crisp white coat was standing in the corner of the room, staring at him speculatively. He was wearing a smart blue shirt a couple shades darker than Westley’s own.
Westley rubbed his head and massaged his leg as he eyed the man suspiciously. The doctor sighed with a bored expression on his face. He asked his mother some detailed questions and tapped his head with his pen. He muttered to himself silently. “Well this should be simple enough to fix.” Westley snapped his head in Dr. Lawson’s direction, focused on his thin figure.
“Seriously?!”
The physician looked at him from over his wire-rimmed spectacles. “Do I look like I am joking, young man?”
“No sir.”
Westley’s mother ignored his tone. “Did you hear that? You’re going to be cured!” Westley cracked a smile but was feeling peculiar, His vision was black but he could still smell his mother’s lilac perfume. He heard a frantic cry. “What’s happening? He looks dead!” He could feel a cold hand on his cheek but the coolness fled his skin as he plunged into a pool a shade of darkness he had never seen.
Westley looked around frantically, immediately noticing a change in his surroundings. He glanced around and noticed he was in a giant open field. The grass was all dead, the trees all living on the most miniscule scraps of wasted soil. In front of him, there was an abandoned city, with a familiar forest to the right of it. To the left there was a small town, and the faceless inhabitants head’s were pointed in his direction. Around the horizon he could see the scenes of his other nightmares. To his right stood a huge stone castle, black as night. From the many elaborately horrifying windows, ghostly eyes glared at him. The queen of the estate gazed across the plain angrily. Her posture was as erect and she sat with an empty chair next to her. Re-searching the vast land he searched for her shadowy consort that had helped him escape.
“Look no further, my young man.” Westley spun around, face to face with his shadow. “I do assume, of course that you were looking for me?” its voice was deep yet cheery. It contrasted greatly with the grim barren feel of his surroundings.
“I’m not sure …” Westley replied cautiously. How could a person as cheery as it live in this torturous place? He decided to ask him questions, but was aware everything he said could be a lie.
“What is this place?”
“That is for me to know and for you to find out.” The shadow tapped his nose, leaving Westley with a sense of déjà vu. But he couldn’t remember where the same thing had happened to him before.
“All I want is to go home. Give me the wake-up drink-thing”
The shadow laughed hysterically. “Oh you crack me up! No, I will not give you anymore sleeping draught. It’s a pain to make and the plant I used to create it is now on the brink of extinction. Oops!”
“Sleeping draught?!” Westley cried. “What?!”
“Ah your dreams were so pleasant, a nice distraction from being young in this horrible place we call home. But now that you’re thirteen there isn’t any need for that is there?”
“WE CALL HOME?” Westley screamed. “You’re lying! I have a family, and-and a real home!”
“It was all a figment of your imagination, young one.You live here, and always will.”
Westley stuttered wildly. Shadow could see he was about to burst out and start yelling again. He casually injected a substance into Westley’s throat, making him faint and drop onto the ground. “You’ll thank me later” He said with a wicked grin as he stepped over Westley and started to walk back toward the castle.