Zach Chidester's work

Hello, this is Zach. I don't really know about you, but the easiest part of any story for me is usually not the ending of it. The ending influences the reader's decision of if they even want to read the book. (Yes, I am speaking to those who read the ending of the book first.) I currently do not have any books that are finished right now.
Here is the start of a new story.

Book 1: Really? This Is The Book Title?

Sand came rushing toward me, so fast that it seemed like I was being mocked that I wouldn't be able to get free. This was frustrating considering I walked right into this problem, but nonetheless I seemed to have no difficulty in having it happen to me. I could try to explain where this sand was, but then you would try to go there and get stuck. You would have wished I hadn't told you because you knew you wanted to do exactly the opposite of what I told you. Well, not exactly told, but more of just warning you. Anyways, I was still in the sand with not really any chance of getting out. 

Perhaps I will get to the rest of that story later on, but for now I must get to a beginning of sorts. Consider it a teaser for a later time. (If, by chance, you end up telling me as I am writing this book and ask to have that in the story I can add it in.) It was not a stereotypical dark and stormy night because everyone seemed to be watering their gardens. Don't ask me why they were doing this, it doesn't make sense to me as well. Why water your garden when it is about to rain and at night? I mean the latter of the two doesn't really mater but still. They actually were not watering their gardens during the stormy night because they had ordered plastic mannequins that looked vaguely like their owners holding watering cans. It was a weird fad. (At least I hope it is a fad.)

For the purpose of this book my name is Felix Ulysses Nephi Norman Young. I hear it is a pretty punny name when you use my initials. Whether or not this is my actual name doesn't really matter because it is the name I want to be known as in this book. It is a long name, but I can be known as it if I want. This may make it confusing for you, so I probably will not go by this full name. You may be wondering why I am getting so specific. Well, you walked right into this: because I can and I wanted to. As a writer I really do not have to give a reason why I wrote something, but I can if I want. It just might lead into the rest of the story.
"You are crazy!" exclaimed Rick.
"Thanks, but I disagree." I said.
"Don't mention it," replied Rick
"If I were crazy, not saying I am, don't you think that the hypothetical me would have the voices inside my head tell me so?" Gerald said, randomly appearing to my left and Rick's right.
"Felix, do you want one of those weird mannequin things for your yard?" Rick said jokingly like he knew I would already say no.
"What makes you bring that up?" I asked.
"For whatever reason those mannequins are appearing all over town and everyone is talking about them. If you ask me they are weird and pointless. They creepy to me in the dark, even creepier during the night."
"I kind of like them" Gerald said. "They are so tacky that they make me laugh. I wouldn't want one, but I would still think that they are funny."
"I wonder how rich the man who makes them is." I said curiously.
"Beats me, but he is probably making bank. I hear he buys the mannequins from failing clothing stores for extremely cheap prices and sells them for a lot more."
"Who is he anyways?" Gerald asked. "Is he going to start putting campaign posters in the mannequins' hands if he becomes president?"
"You are weird." Rick said. "But then again I am kind of weird also."