Condensed Version of the First Chapter Of: The Fault In Our Stars from Augustus's Perspective.

[Michael Green]

Hi guys I'm Michael, my full name is Michael John Green, which is kind of weird being that it's the reverse of Johns name sort of, and I found Vlogbrothers back in 07' while googling myself :p. I'm 16 and I wrote this for a creative writing assignment in English. Tell me what you think?

This is an original of the first chapter of The Fault in Our Stars from Augustus's perspective.

My cancer like you is trying to survive.

I could never understand the numb feeling I got above my prosthetic left leg as I nudged it into my car for what seemed like the thousandth time. The crushing monotony of my daily life was almost as painful as the cancer that enabled me to obtain such dull, but at least osteosarcoma-free, days full of, “How are you feeling Augustus?” or, “Gus you hanging in their buddy?” It kind of pained me, knowing that this was my life, without anyone, just sailing alone across the ocean that god, if that even exists, filled with pain, deep pain that stretched to dark ravines, the kind of pain that stabs you in the back and leaves a scar that will fade, but a memory that will not.

I peered out of the passenger-side window back at the blue plastered house; Mom was watching me start the car. She never really did trust me with this thing. It was a gift from my grandma, a (rather ugly) 1977 Minivan with the “Original wood panel!” my grandma kept saying as if it added so much aesthetic value to the car. I never really understood what people liked so much about cars, I mean they’re like Earth’s personal cancer.

I promised Isaac I would go to his support group with him today, even though I’ve been pretty “cancerless” lately myself, Isaac was about to go through a surgery after which he would be completely blind. You see he has this rare eye cancer, with this really long name I can’t pronounce, and I hope his parents didn’t intend to name him Isaac because they thought it would be a funny joke seeing that “Isaac” sounds an awful like “Eye sick.”

Me, my cell phone, and my packet of cigarettes met Isaac at the front of this, what seemed like recently built, Episcopal Church.  There was a kind of light fog that blurred the mirror-like windows on the outside of the building. The windows reflected our images and I stared into my reflection dazed, my image vaguely distorted by recently left fingerprints. 

“You coming?” Isaac said.

“Yeah,” I said “Sorry I just kind of—“ I stopped talking when I saw her.  When I saw her. Her.

I stared at the back of this girl’s head as she walked into the building lugging an oxygen tank by her side. 

“That’s Hazel” Isaac said. I didn’t even look at him. “You’re staring is kind of creeping me out man.” He continued but I wasn’t paying much attention. I walked in, down the steps after her, but before I could make her acquaintance everyone began taking their seats as an oddly tall man took to the center of the circle of chairs.  He introduced himself as Patrick, and begun by going on about how we were “literally” in the heart of Jesus in this basement. I sat down across the circle from her; I locked my eyes on her. Her eyes stared back into mine. They were a light brown shade.

I felt kind of nervous that an attractive girl was staring at me, so I looked down momentarily and pretended to listen to the support group leader’s monologue about how he was slowly reeking out a small living exploiting his cancer filled past.

The support group continued with a mild uninterested tone, of people who were most likely just forced to attend the weekly ritual.  However some people seemed as if they made it their mission to share everything about their cancertastic lives like they were bragging about it or something, which was unappealing to me, people who become their cancer. It made me really wonder why we really do anything at all.

Why we as humans strive to leave a mark on this world and not only end up just leaving more scars, in the end we make no impact at all, even if we somehow survive the next billion years we won’t live forever. Heres how the rest of support group went:

I glanced at the girl.

Her eyes met mine.

I looked away at Isaac.

Isaac looked at me like “Why are you staring at me man?”

Turned my head towards this girl who kept saying she “felt strong” (more bragging)

Didn’t really want to look at her, so went back to the girl.

Rinse. Repeat.

There was a break in the monotony when Patrick turned to me and asked me what my name was,

“Augustus Waters.” I replied with a cool mellow tone. Trying to impress the girl.

“Well Mr. Waters,” I hated when people called me by my last name, “What do you fear in this world?”

“I fear Oblivion” I said immediately.

“Oblivion?” He looked confused, “Would anyone like to speak on that?” His eyes glanced around the room over the confused expressions people had. The girl had raised her hand. “Oh yes! Hazel!”

I smiled. She hadn’t shared yet.

“There is a time when all of us. All of us. Are going to be dead. And no one will be around to remember Aristotle or Cleopatra, let alone you. There was time before organisms had consciousness and there will be time after, and if this idea scares you, I suggest you ignore it, God knows that’s what everyone else does.”

“Goddamn this girl is something” I said quietly.

“Well on that note, let’s say a final group prayer, for Jesus.” You could feel the dissatisfaction in the room.

Patrick ended with some lame mantra about how we need to “live our best lives today” or something like that.  It was over. I got up immediately hobbling through the small crowd of people that blocked me from this Goddess of a girl.  She smiled at me when she saw me walking over, this time with a different smile I hadn’t seen yet, an awkward, dorky, beautiful smile.

“What’s your name?” I said.

“Hazel” She replied.

“No, like your full name, what’s your full name Hazel?”

“Hazel Grace Lancaster.”

“Hazel Grace.” It was like a symphony of syllables.

“Yes?” She replied with a smile.

“You’re beautiful Hazel Grace. And I’m not in the business of denying myself the simpler pleasures of life like telling someone their beautiful. You are beautiful Hazel Grace.” She seemed shocked.

“I’m really no—“

“You’re like a modern Natalie Portman.”

“Who?”
            “You know, like Natalie Portman, like V for Vendetta’s Natalie Portman.”

“Never seen it.” She replied. We began walking up the long staircase to the parking lot outside the church.

“Hazel Grace how have you not seen it.”

“I just, no one has ever reall—“

“You should watch it.”

“I will, thanks for the suggestion.” We stopped walking at the edge of the curb. I wasn’t going to lose her on that.

“No I mean, right now, with me, at my house.” She looked at me with her big eyes,

“Augustus Waters, I barely know you!”

“Hazel Grace,” I took a deep breath, paused, and reached into my pocket and pulled out the carton of cigarettes I flipped open the packaging and stuck one in between my lips and held it unlit. Her eyes soon filled with an emotion I had not seen.
            “UNBELIVEABLE, an attractive guy who also has had cancer who calls me beautiful, talks about oblivion, and compares me to a famous actress, goes to my CANCER support group and then does something so he can acquire oh but more CANCER!”

“I’m attractive?” I smiled.

“A fatal flaw.” A minivan pulled up with what seemed to be her mom inside.  She leaned in to open the door.

“They only give you cancer if you light them, and I’ve never lighten one, it’s a metaphor you see?”
            “A metaphor?” She said questioningly.

“Yeah, you put the killing thing in between your lips but you don’t give it the power to do the killing.”

“Metaphor.” She stopped momentarily.

“A Metaphor.” I replied. She stared at me for a moment, and then tapped on the window of the driver’s side and waited for her mom to roll it down.

“Mom, I’m going to Augustus Waters house to watch a movie, I’ll be home before ten.”

I smiled.

[Elle Saunders]

This is so good *-* <3

[Michael Green]

Thank you (:

[Cooper Boyce]

Nice Job! 

[Michael Green]

Thanks

[Cooper Boyce]

You should send that in to John Green, get his address or editor (though TFIOS proves via editor isn't the best idea) write it down on paper or type it and send it to him and maybe he'll read it and do a video about it! It's a long shot, but it's still a shot, right? 

[Michael Green]

How could I get him to read it? I'm sure he's very busy

[Cooper Boyce]

You never know. He probably is really busy like you said, but he is a real person, and he must have free time sometime in his normal day. You couldn't directly tell him "read this! Please!" But you could draw attention to your letter by making it neon or something or write in big letters "READ THIS" or just make a nerdfighter symbol on it or something like that. Maybe you could also draw attention to it in the comments of one of his videos-I'm sure he reads those. If he doesn't, I'm pretty sure Hank does and you could relay it there. Maybe he also goes on this website and you could post something big about it. I'm just trying to think of ideas, so don't blame me if they're stupid. 

[Michael Green]

Can I get it featured somehow on here?

[Julia Stowell]

:) write another chapter!!!

[Michael Green]

:P I don't really want to write a whole book from Augustus's perspective, but I might post some of my own novel on here.