Gully Boy Quotes

Then realization had dawned. "Oh, my God, you're the one who hurt Davis, the boy I was with. You saw us together, and you threw him down a gully. He broke both of his legs!" "He lived?" Gaze narrowing, Lothaire had murmured, "Not for much Longer.

Most of the things they saw were, like the stone fish, unsettling but harmless. There was the clearing full of spiders, weaving a long and intricate mural detailing the rise of an arachnid civilization. There was a gully full of stones, each one with a keyhole in it. (Brenner tried to pick one with a pin. After forty-five minutes, he succeeded, and it crumbled into dust in his hands.) There was a tree with broad fleshy leaves that made kissing noises as they passed, and one that pulled vines tight in around itself and moaned.

A woman’s voice came wailing on the wind. Norman looked up and spotted Sandra high up on an even steeper funnel of snow and ice. She was crying: ‘Your father is dead. What are we going to do?’ One of her shoulders was hanging weirdly. There was a bloody wound on her forehead, matted with hair. Then he saw his dad, still in his seat but slumped awkwardly forward. Norman turned around on the steep slope and inched over towards him, sneakers pathetically trying to hold an edge. He slipped and almost plummeted like a bobsleigh down the mountain. He caught a hold. Then he started crawling back up. It took him thirty minutes to climb 6 m (20 ft). His dad was doubled over. ‘DAD!’ No response. Snow was falling on his father’s curly hair. Above him, Sandra sounded delirious. By the time he was four, Norman had skied every black run at Mammoth. On his first birthday, his dad had him strapped to his back in a canvas papoose and took him surfing. Reckless, perhaps, but it had given the boy an indomitable spirit. Eleven-year-old Norman hugged his dad for the last time then tracked back across the slope to see what he could salvage from the wreckage. There were no ice axes or tools, but he did find a rug. He took it and scrabbled back to Sandra. She couldn’t move. Somehow he got her under the ragged remains of the plane’s wing and they wrapped themselves in the rug and fell into an exhausted sleep. Norman was woken around noon by a helicopter. He leapt up, trying to catch the crew’s attention. They came very, very close but somehow didn’t see him. They were going to have to get off this mountain themselves. A brief lull in the storm gave them a sudden view. The slope continued beneath their feet, sickeningly sheer, for hundreds of feet. Then lower down there were woods and the gully levelled a little before a massive ridgeline rose again. Beyond that lay a flatter meadow of snow and, at the edge of the world, a cabin. Sandra wanted to stay put. She was ranting about waiting for the rescuers. For a moment Norman nearly lay down beside her and drifted off to sleep. The

least forty-three organized boy gangs treaded Richmond’s landscape, twelve of them from Southside (across the river at Manchester): Gamble’s Hill Cats, Grace Street Cats, Oregon Hill Cats (also Terribles), Sidney Cats, Harveytown Cats, First, Second, and Third Street Cats, Tenth Street Gang, Fourth Street Horribles, Fifth Street Gang, Shockoe Hill Gang, Butchertown Gang, Rocketts Gang, Church Hill Gang, Union Hill Gang, Old Market Gang, Gully Nation Gang, Sheep Hill Gang, Brook Road Gang, Hobo Gang, Lulu Gang, Clyde Row Gang, Park Sparrows Gang, Bumtown Gang, Basin Bank Cats, Twenty-Seventh Street Gang, Thirtieth Street Gang, Grace Street Gang, West End Gang, and Male Orphan Asylum Cats; from Manchester—Terrapin Hill Cats, Baconsville Cats, Goat Hill Cats, Battery Cats, Diamond Hill Cats, Swampoodle Cats, Hull Street Cats, Decatur Street Cats, Oak Grove Cats, Marx’s Field Cats, Belle Isle Cats, and Swansboro Gang.