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Go Away I'm Sleeping.
Join Date: May 2003
Location: Miami, Florida
Posts: 1,683
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Here's Something (Whatever!)...
Some stuff I wrote (fast) a good while ago. They are simple fragments of stories never completed. Here goes nothing:
Bird Man
Quote:
Paul Wayward examined the flock formation in befuddlement. In scrutiny of the aerial dance above him, he laid motionless on a hillside slope near his loft. Beyond the nerve-like branches of the surrounding trees, a deep blue sky hosted cotton-white clouds and a wide breed of birds. Every season Paul, the Bird Man as some neighboring tormenters tagged him, would take great delight in the appearance of Canadian fowl. The rocky, hard earth underneath him felt creamy as if he was adrift in an endless sea: His heavy trance removing such bodily irritations from his mind. Paul’s lash-less eyes darting to and fro, while ticks pulsed faintly, like small bodily hiccups, across his left shoulder; his laborious breathing now slowed and measured. His sudden physical calmness relaxed his right hand enough to allow for the weight of the revolver to drop gently to his side – placing Paul’s final moments of existence in detectable suspension. The flying creatures of the heavens had captured his will once more, as always. An odd smile- a crooked, black line across his serine face- masked his inner disorder altogether. Reaching up to his left brow (this time), he systematically pulled a few roots and set them, after giving each one a close-up inspection, on his tongue; and in a quick, husky gulp, the soft bristles sank accumulatively inside of him like a pile of hay.
The brick that had smashed his storefront window ceased projecting itself repeatedly in his mind (the broken shards of glass on the floor, cages tipped-over and dented, two female Parakeets and a Cockatiel flapping up and across the ceiling, squawking aplenty), replaced, instead, by a temporary beguiled amnesia.
Paul felt himself adrift among the bouquet of quills before his charmed gaze. He knew something was assuredly odd about the sight before him and it equaled only to one thing- a foe was nearby. Focused in on a flock above and slightly behind him, his look followed a line up the hillside, and beyond the rocky face near a cluster of trees where some of the braver acrobats rested on high branches. Nonetheless, Paul’s eyes lingered upon the rhythmical, hypnotic lift, sail and drop of the flock in curvesome unison. Paul was sure that a predator was in the proximity of those trees, for he searched every limb of every tree and the ground near each bark but was unable to detect any indication otherwise. Artless eyes now following his nose- his staunch discernment now pushing him up the stone bank with determined zeal. The gun left behind, forgotten.
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Untitled
Quote:
If I were to crack an egg on the sidewalk, Patti thought, it would fry on contact. The paper foretold of more smoldering heat throughout the state; Patti’s dry lips crooked as a bead of sweat trickled down the side of her face.
Oh my lord, she muttered to herself, will this unbearable spell ever end?
Patti felt like a statue -- or more apt -- a useless scarecrow with listless ravens atop her hay stuffed sleeves, as she stood by the bus bench. The two regulars sitting on the bench as usual, spoke to each other in an undertone so as to deafen their voices.
I am not at all allow to listen to their precious words…hmm, not me, not the phantom rider of bus 382, Patti’s thoughts raced.
Patti shifted her eyes with concern. Her boss was a stringent and verbally harsh tamer of subordinates and tardiness meant a battery of coarse expletives. Taking one very deep breath she mustered the courage to ask the two plank- perched lilies the time- for the bus seemed unusually late this morning. The lady furthest from her ceased her whispering jabber and looked away while the other one, a thin face of rigid stone, forced a faint smile before meeting Patti’s bleary look and answered, It’s a quarter past twelve, she said.
Patti returned a civil smile as she relaxed her stiffness for the bus, to her relief, was not late at all. Maybe it was the heat that brought on her anxiety.
Thank the lord, she sighed.
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What I am working now.
The Seat of Courage
This story actually has five (5) protagonist!! One can't exist without the other since, without giving it away, they all (in themselves) tell the same identical story that climaxes into the one (1) true protagonist in the end. Got that? And to compound it all, it's a historical novel.
First thing I will do is to get very familiarity with African-American history- especially during the late 40s to early 60s (roughly). Research begins by reading novels (from Morrison to Ellison); constructing each character with precision, write a draft (revise, revise, revise). I also, very important, must study a handful of biographies, vital! Then straight to draft number two (revise, revise, revise).
Yes folks, a rocket, in the shape of a pen, is on the launching pad and ready for the countdown phase.
The five (5) protagonist names:
Regina Pearl
Odessa Abbott
Shirley Reed
Al King
Mr. Shaw
It's a story of Rosa Parks with some hints of Claudette Colvin in the mix (here-and-there). The development of each fictional person is next and will take time. I am somewhat of a perfectionist which would serve me well. One step at a time a guess. First thing is getting a good (as I can) feeling of the time - the tension and drama and so forth.
Wish me well my friends. 
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Man is the only animal that blushes. Or needs to. - Mark Twain
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10-21-2009, 08:34 AM
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