literature

Outsiders-rewrite

Deviation Actions

RKlvr's avatar
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Literature Text

I ran through the streets of the East side, the police cars' sirens wailing loud and clear in my lynx-like ears. The cigarette pack that I had just stolen from the gas-station banged against my thigh; the item stowed in my leather jacket pocket. I knew the police wouldn't shoot me for something like this, even with my large record down at the station; it was just a measly pack of cigs. My mind strayed back to the gang: Two-bit, Soda, Pony, Darry, Steve, and, finally, Johnny. That boy was the reason I was getting myself into this mess, though it wasn't like I was blaming him.
     My eyes narrowed. Dammit, Johnny-why the hell did you have to die? You were all I could live for, and now you're gone: killed because you saved those stupid kids from that damned fire. It was because of you that I'm doing all this in the first place...But even as I ran, I knew that I couldn't turn back, even if I wanted to. The fuzz would probably lock me up for years, if they caught me. As I neared the vacant parking lot the gang was familiar with, I remembered the phone call I made from a pay-phone, telling them all to meet me here. I knew that what I was going to do would make them sad and surprised, but I didn't really care anymore, all I cared about was Johnny, and he was gone.
     I knew the gang or the fuzz couldn't stop me; my mind was set and all my thoughts were bent on it. I was panting as I ran into the parking lot; my eyes glanced to the gang that arrived at the same time I did. I suddenly stopped, turned around, and my hand strayed to the weapon that was at my belt, suddenly remembering what I had said to Ponyboy a couple days before. 'Don’t worry, it ain’t loaded, but it still helps pull a bluff.' And now I was going to use it...for my final act. I pulled the gun out, so it was in plain view of the cops, acting like I was cocking it. The police cars, meanwhile, screeched to a stop; the police-men immediately got out and whipped out their guns. A split second went by, though it felt longer to me, as the police recognized my heater. I didn't give even a second glance to the surprised gang as the fuzz pulled the triggers of their weapons, my body going through immeasurable pain as the wave of bullets hit me, ripping into my leather jacket, white shirt, and deep into my flesh. I had a grim look of triumph on my lips as I settled into a sort of haze; red and black colors swimming around me as I hit the ground hard. Then, complete darkness.
I orginally wrote this for a book that I read at school. The assignment was that we had to find a scene in the book and re-tell that scene from a different point of view. And, in this case, Dally, or Dallas, of off the book 'Outsiders'. I re-wrote the part where Dally dies, only from his point of view. This takes place during the 50's. Dally's a greaser, along with Soda, Darry, Steve, Two-bit, and the like.
© 2006 - 2024 RKlvr
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nocturnetigress's avatar
I like reading these, even though Dally is my favorite and I hate it when he dies...school projects suck, don't they? Well, anywayz...um, I would suggest trying to, instead of describing his /actions/, describe what he's thinking. We all know the motions he goes through as he dies because Ponyboy describes it in almost painful clarity, but what is he thinking? What drove him to doing this? Why death by firing squad? All things you have to really put some thought into to get Dallas, his psyche, and his death from his POV believeable. I don't even know if you're working on this anymore, but if so, I hope it helped!