Creative Writing Course

Assignment 5.13 - Character Sketch

He stood tall in his dark suit, broad shouldered, sturdy, confident. He wore sunglasses, even though the day was dull. His head moved from side to side easily, slowly, scanning and watchful. A wire trailed from his ear down into his collar and when necessary he spoke into his watch. On duty and alert for danger he could not still his mind. His phone vibrated against his groin but he did not reach for it. Phones were contraband according to this boss. They could be tracked, they could be traced and messages could be retrieved under the right circumstances and the big dude that paid the bills wanted none of it. 

Oh, how he hated him. Despised would be a better term, for the man ate his minions, breakfast, lunch and dinner and laughed about it with the unlucky girls that caught his eye. He’d like to see him dead. He would rejoice behind his dark glasses. His eyes would smile while his lips remained pressed tight and firm. For behind the man in charge was a lesser man in charge, and another behind him. And above all, above life itself, they each demanded loyalty. But his true loyalty lay elsewhere. It lay at the feet of a tiny, brown-eyed girl. A girl hidden away, he hoped where her father would never find her, for he would eat her too.

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Activity 3.11 – New story from newspaper headline

*Note to any local people who read this:

The news headline was "Pedestrian killed at railway near Maitland". This just happened and there are few details yet. A 78 year old man, no name.  Investigation is ongoing. I do not know the people involved, I have NO details, no reason for how or why it happened which is why I wrote a fiction piece about a possible someone at the house waiting, not the man killed so tragically. 

This is fiction.  

The woman breathed a long sigh as she settled in her wing chair by the front window. She closed her eyes and breathed two slow conscious breaths, head leaned back. She treasured the break. These 45 minutes to an hour was usually the only time she had to herself. She loved the old man, her father-in-law, but he was demanding. His needs were constant not that it was his fault. She didn’t blame him. Worsening Alzheimer’s held them both captive. But he walked everyday and it being Apple Blossom Drive with a dead end he was safe. She saw him away, up the hill, and she saw him when he returned. It was good for them both.

She picked up her book, slipped the bookmark out and settled back to read. Her cup of tea steamed on the table beside her. Bliss. She fell into the story and never heard the train, nor the elongated urgent blast of its whistle.

Three chapters later she began to glance out the window at every page break. She was in such a half aware state when the first OPP cruiser screamed by, lights flashing and siren wailing. She leaned forward and peered up the road at receding taillights. Another cruiser streaked by, and then the Paramedic van. She heaved herself to her feet and went to the door, flinging it open. In her many years here there had never been a police emergency. Her heart began to pound, panic shortening her breath. She stumbled out the icy driveway in her slippers peering up the road. A few neighbours had done the same and they migrated together in a worry huddle, the fog of their anxious breath mingling.

They still stood close when a cruiser eased back down the drive and stopped by their group. A young male officer got out of the car. He straightened his duty belt before turning to the curious faces. There was reluctance in his posture; a hesitation as he stepped toward them.

“Mrs. Garner?” he asked as he scanned their worried eyes.

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People Watching - Heightening Observations

I am taking a creative writing course and they suggest keeping a notebook and writing people down. Random people, observations on behavior, gestures, facial expressions, speech patterns. I've never been one to do that. I use those things out of my brain; I remember them. I may not remember your name but I remember how you tilted your head when you spoke, or fussed with your hair, or rubbed a fingertip across your brow when you were anxious.

Anyway, I now have two people in a notebook. And it feels weird.. like I captured them somehow; stolen a moment of them. I don't think I like it.

A Man at Tim Hortons

I had never stood so long in the line at Tim Horton’s. A coffee shop in a hospital has a rather captive customer base and coming in the doors anywhere near a mealtime is going to be an exercise in patience. Patience – patients. Strange things run through your head as you stand in lines. At least in my head. Finally to the cashier I placed my order; large tea, bag in, 2 cream, one sugar. I pay, move to the side and wait some more. How hard is it to make a tea? The man filling orders was no green kid but fully grown with muscular arms and I judged him to be in his mid to late 20’s. He was handsome with smooth dark skin, black hair and heavy-lidded eyes. His movements behind the counter were slow and unsure. The cashier side-eyed him constantly, prompting him along and I smiled; a trainee. When his eyes caught mine I smiled encouragingly. 

“Are you a trainee?” I asked. His return smile was tired and slow but friendly. He leaned toward me as he handed me my tea.

“No, I work three jobs and I am having a very hard day,” he confided.

“I am sorry,” I told him. I did not know what else to say. I will never understand how life today can be so difficult for so many people.

I have long been a people watcher and being older, not so afraid to chat people up. This happened last week and that young man has been sitting in my head. Does he have student loans? A young family? A troubled youth he is working his way out of? Or just big dreams he is saving for?