Sparks War (original draft), Robbie Keith [thriller books to read .TXT] 📗

This is the original draft to this story . I am currently working on a new draft . This was also my first 

atrempt at writing a story . 

 The new draft will follow a similar story line but some names might change , as well as some of the situations , either having greater detail , or leaving certain scenes completely out .

the reason for an entirely new draft is because there is more that I don't like about this draft than I do . So instead of editing the current draft , I will complete a whole new re write and hopefully get myself closer to finishing the novel .

Haulin’ down the highway at just fewer than 145 mph cradled on his BMW, young Jonathan Sparks’ heart beats for the freedom of the open road. There is something to be said about the exhilarating chill in the air at 1:00 am in the middle of October.
Jonathan quickly snaps out of his trance, realizing how fast he is going. One might have a chance at not getting caught at those speeds on the interstate but not on the 11. The smooth comfort of his BMW alone is enough to bring back the peaceful memories of his youth. Even though Jon was only 18 himself, he often feel’s much older. Most 18 year old men don’t experience the amount of stress and responsibility that he has grown up with. But he found the irresponsibility of flying on 2 wheels brought him back to 18. And the sound of the VA state police siren did just the opposite. He had already adjusted his speed the moment he snapped out of his daydream. The speed limit was 55; he couldn’t have been going much faster than that he thought. Jon looked at the speedometer; “62 miles per hour, NUTS “. Just as that irritating chill came over him after one suddenly realizes that they may have been caught. The VA state Mustang roar’s past Jon. With the dark of night laying against the sleek body of the mustang it seemed to disappear, and in just a few seconds all Jon noticed was the glimmer of the twirling lights, and the echoing siren.
Jon decides it’s time for a fill up, both for his bike and for his stomach. He pulls into next gas station he can find. Luckily it’s a big truck stop built with a diner attached. Thoughts of Belgian waffles topped with whipped cream and hot cinnamon apple seemed to scream Jon’s name.
After fueling the bike Jon rode over to the diner’s parking lot. The sharp early morning air seeps into Jon’s helmet as he lifts the visor, causing his eye’s to tear up ever so slightly. He now felt the rest of his body getting colder, as his concentration from riding now went to eating. Jon pulls off his helmet with one hand while turning off the bike with the other. He slides off the bike feeling the muscles in his legs relax, tossing the bike keys in his helmet that he now carried in his right hand.
Jon sat in his booth at the diner waiting disappointed, as Belgian waffles don’t seem to be on the diners menu. He figured French toast would do just as well, at least he could get his hot apple cinnamon.
Jon stared out the window at the BMW he had been riding throughout the night. One would expect by looking at the bike that the rider would be climbing off it with a black leather racing suit. But Jon on the other hand, while he loved the power of control he felt riding a beast such as that. He was never much for the dramatic. A pair of dark blue old navy loose fit’s, Lugz boots, a black American eagle T, and a blue denim jacket got the job done. As cold as it was outside Jon didn’t ever wear gloves. By the time his hands got cold it was time to fill up anyway. Jon had a high tolerance for the weather. It’s not that Jon never got cold, he just loved it; it made him feel alive, even more alive than riding at top speeds on the beamer.
The bike much like Jon was simply detailed. With just a lonely BMW emblem located on the body right under the brake and clutch levers. The gray on black S 1000 RR BMW never identified itself with flashy lettering, only blistering speed that makes the muscles in Jon’s forearms scream trying to hold on while accelerating.
One might ask how a young man such as Jon came upon a machine of this caliber. But not Jon, for he knew all too well. The beautiful bike was in fact the first of many visible changes in his life. And if not for the changes that were not so visible, he would not be sitting in a truck stop diner not eating Belgian waffles, and not eating French toast either apparently.
“How long does it take to dip some bread in eggs and fry it “; Jon said with a whisper of irritation. Like many of us, impatience is a quality that rules when Jon’s hunger speaks. As impatient as he was feeling he would never use his frustration to embarrass himself or anyone, else for that matter.
Jonathan found himself chuckling, his gaze still staring out the window. There was someone dressed in one of those racing suits .He imagined trying to get himself in one of those ridiculous outfits. He looked away wearing a sort of a smug smile. “Well at least its solid black “he thought. If the suit had been worn with other colors to it, Jon would have found even more humor in it.
And almost as instantaneously as he saw it he smelled it, his early morning breakfast waltzing down from the other end of the diner. He could hardly wait to get something warm inside his bones.
The waitress obviously overworked wore a rather pretty smile. Her dark brown wavy hair pulled back in a pony tail frazzled from too many hours of sweat and who knows what else that lingers in the kitchen air.
Jon smiled, as her smile seemed to ease the slight irritation that he was feeling not more than a few minutes ago.
“My name is Kimmy, and I’ll be your waitress this morning “; she said.
Jon smiled “Thanks Kimmy this looks great “.
Kimmy sighed a little “sorry for the wait the kitchen was just changing shifts “
Jon smiled a little bigger “Not a problem “
Jon gave an assuring grin, and with that Kimmy walked busily back to the kitchen.
Jon cut into the triple stack of French toast and brought a toasty, sweet, gooey, buttery piece to his mouth. “Man that’s good “Jon thought. Feeling comforted through his senses Jon takes a good look at his surroundings. He catches a glimpse of the rider he found so humorous coming through the door. He cracks another sarcastic grin. The rider looked to be about 5’4”, but Jon knew that the rider couldn’t be much more than 5 ‘as the riders boots gave them about 3-4”. Jon imagined what kind of bike a rider that size would be riding. That thought alone kept him smiling.
Jon cut into another piece of his breakfast inadvertently keeping an eye on the rider watching the helmet come off.
Jon found himself stopping mid chew as he stared at the rider.
The most beautiful auburn hair flowed from out the helmet. It took but only a second to realize this rider was in fact a beautiful lady. As he looked closer he could see her figure in what now seemed to be a not so ridiculously looking racing suit.
Jon stared as she strode in his direction. It felt as though all his surroundings were dimming with every step she took. Jon’s eyes were wide now as she got closer.
She smiled as if to say “calm down there tiger “. She calmly slowed in his direction stopping by his side, smiling almost to a complete laugh.
, and whispered in his ear “You gonna eat that? “
It was then Jon realized that not only did he still have a plateful of food but a mouthful as well.
“Mmwuahuh “Jon blurted forcing, the gooshy remnants of French toast through his throat.
With a half smile “Hmm “she said, and strode away just as she had come in.
Jon knew he would be in big trouble if he watched her walk away, but he could see distortions of her reflection in the big diner picture windows .He had to pause before taking another bite. He couldn’t get the visions of what looked like diamonds he found in her blue eyes out of his mind. The voice he heard in his ears constantly replaying, “You gonna eat that? “Over and over again. Some might say that the woman of their dreams has a voice like an angel, but not Jon. Her voice was playful and almost juvenile. A fact that excited him being that he was the oldest in his family. Jon had to always be very grown up. And now this, the whole reason he was riding in the first place seemed to pale when she spoke. Jon actually felt a little ludicrous for this. But what could he do?
Jon decided he had taken enough time to daydream. He hurried his food, and guzzled a nearly cold cup of coffee, left a ten dollar tip, paid the bill and strode like a marine, helmet in hand feeling unstoppable; to his bike.
He hopped on the beastie BMW, turned the key and slipped his helmet back on.
Jon put the bike in gear and drove through the parking lot, and there he saw it. He thought to himself “so that’s what she rides “again with that smug smile. He again was dazzled checking out the Caspian Blue Daytona 675 made by Triumph, not because of the bike, as impressive as it was. No, he was dazzled by the thought of how perfect that bike might fit her. She had hardly said anything to him, and yet he had learned so much about this woman in a very short time. He hated to leave, but he had no choice. There were bigger questions in his mind right now.
He turned the bike in a half circle back towards the diner hoping he might catch a glimpse of her. He only saw what looked like a waitress cleaning off his table. It wasn’t Kimmy though. “The waitress shift change “he thought.
Jon thundered out of the truck stop back out onto the 11. And decided to hit I 81 as soon as he could. Jon was now dealing with thoughts of romance that seemed to trigger a deeper misunderstood sense of urgency created for the current task at hand.
Jon flicked his wrist turning the accelerator. Thoughts of passion mixed with thoughts desperation sent all four cylinders in the sleek bike screaming to a hundred miles an hour.
And there Jon stayed, for what seemed like an eternity. The intense emotions laced with the freedom on the bike made it seem like he was completely alone, and almost invincible.