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Member
Join Date: Jun 2008
Posts: 5
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Trainer
This is a rewrite. It is the first 5 pages. I would like to know if you want more from it. does the storyline grab you by this point in the point?
This is a first attempt at a book. constructive but considerate.
Standing from the night’s sleep, Bill stretched to get his muscles moving for the work the day ahead. The heavy thud of his foot falls on the wood floor lead him to glance back to make sure his beautiful wife still lay asleep on the bed. All his eyes can make out in the dark is the long, flowing hair lying across her pillow. The stillness of his wife told him all he needed to know. He had not waken her in over five years and hadn’t really noticed any need to look back for a long time but this morning was different.
One glance in the mirror told him something was really wrong. His thoughts roamed through the events that took place before going to bed; but found nothing unusual to cause what he saw in the mirror. It wasn’t the three day shadow that caused the alert or even the blank stare that came back from the mirror. What alerted him was the sight of dried blood across his forehead and around his eye. What had he done that would have caused that?
The faucet refused to open. One hand on the hot water knob and a quick twist always got it before. Now it was like he has no strength in his hand at all. Securing both hands with a firm grip around the faucet handle, he twisted it all the way on to send water splashing in the sink. Quickly, he turned the water half way down with the feeling of confusion and anger raging through him; he had not experienced this before that he knew of. Was he really that angry of a man and didn’t know it?
His mind reeled, Come on, I am 5’8” tall, strong as an ox, and as mild mannered as a kitten certainly I can get through this morning without this. I can’t remember the last time I was angry and now I get angry because a little water splashed in the sink. Bill, what was wrong with you? Why are you so angry?
His fingers rolled into a tight fist, his elbows and curled to 90 degree angle, and his shoulder muscles tightened ready to strike on a whim. “Relax Bill.” His mind slowed into control again. “Don’t do something stupid that you will regret. I’ll just get this blood off my face and let it go. He reached his hand into the running water to check the temp; the wash cloth was right beside the sink. He lightly tossed the wash cloth into the sink for it to soak up the water. A few seconds later, he grasped the faucet to turn it off and remembered what happened when he turned it on. With slow steady control, it turned easily. He just took the washcloth out of the sink to wipe his face. “I’ve got to shave anyway,” He thinks.
He slowly wiped the washcloth across his face and around his eyes. With most of the blood wiped away, he saw no physical scrape that would have caused such bleeding. He wiped off the rest of the blood with amazement that there was no cut on his face. “Where did all that blood come from? What did I do last night?”
Bill shook it off with a shiver and picked up the shaving cream. The shaving cream felt cool on his face and relaxed the nerves. “Finally, something that went right this morning. This was going to be a good day.” With a deep breath; he repeated, “This is going to be a good day.”
The razor glided down his face removing that three day shadow with the greatest of ease. Bill’s mind went immediately to the many razor cuts that he gets almost every morning and wondered why his super beard that never gave up easily would surrender so quickly today and why had it grown so thick in just one night. With all else that has gone on this morning, he didn’t argue the point anymore.
The rest of the morning went easily enough. By the time his briefcase was in his hand, lunch ready to go, and ready to give his wife a morning I love you kiss; he saw the clock on the wall. It was as if it jumped off the wall and yelled, “YOU’RE LATE! Get it in gear and GO, NOW!”
Bill flew out the door not getting it closed completely. He jumped off the full length porch and landed squarely on the walkway to the drive. His hands in his pocket for the keys. he spun right to shoot directly to the Mercedes Benz.
A strange voice came from somewhere inside him and said, “Don’t take the Benz, the truck would be better.”
“The truck?” Bill looked at a 70’s model F-150 that he used only once or twice a month. He hated the truck for the rough ride and body-beating torture that it created. He had absolutely no intention of taking that truck unless he had no other option. Whoever came up with that idea was a lunatic and he would not and could not accept that he came up with that as an idea.
“I know you don’t like the truck but I do. Take the truck.” This strange voice insisted and Bill knew this was not him saying that.
“I like the Benz. The ride is incredibly smooth and has the power to get me anywhere with speed and control unlike the ugly truck.” Bill knew the truck had an old, faded paint job that would not look good in any situation on his job. This meeting was very important and he couldn’t look bad in any way to make this deal work.
“None of that is the point. The point is you need the truck today because I want you to need the truck” This strange voice was still insisting and making a case for taking the truck.
Bill had not stopped moving, he was turning the corner to the drivers door of the Benz. Fluidity in motion had always been his strong point and his expectation was the same today. His hand reached for the door handle and froze.
“I told you to take the truck. You don’t want me to force this issue. Go to the truck, get in, and take the truck. End of story!” This voice was sounding tense and angry, whoever it was that was saying all this stuff or junk, as Bill thought of it, was not going to win this fight.
In an act of defiance against whoever or whatever, he opened the door to the Benz, got inside, and slammed it closed. “Now what are you going to do?”
“I told you not to make me force the issue. Now you will know what price I make people pay that resist me,” the voice was not calm but rather it was fierce, at the edge of uncontrolled anger.
Bill attempted to put the key in the ignition failed. He removed the key and scowled at it, noticing that he had the Ford key instead of the Benz key. He knew those keys by feel and it had been ages since he had mistaken them.
“I told you not to make me force the issue,” the voice said with a bit of a teasing tone in the background.
Bill refused to acknowledge the voice, switched the key to the Benz key, and swiftly placed it in the ignition. The Benz turned over but refused to fire. So he tried again. His anger began to boil up from his toes. “What are you up to and who are you?”
Bill could feel sweat forming on his forehead and the veins in his neck throbbed on the surface.
“Never mind about that now. You will know that soon enough,” the voice recanted with satisfaction. “You are learning. Now will you listen to me?”
In his anger, he threw the door open, stomped over to the truck, mumbled, “I don’t know who you are and I don’t have time to deal with you now. I’ll take the truck.”
“Thank you.” The voice had an attitude. “You will learn.”
The door of the Ford opened more swiftly than expected and banged into the Benz passenger door. “Nooooooooooo, not the Benz; I hate this truck!” Bills anger escalated into fury. “I’ll worry about the Benz later. I have more important things to do now.”
Bill’s face was red, fire burned in his eyes and his palms ached from his fingernails pressing into them. What is wrong with me today?
Bill flung himself into the truck, yanked the door shut, “AGH!” The door slammed into his shin with all the force he could put into it. Immediately, his shin swelled and oozed blood. The blood streaming down his face as if it was sweat.
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Saundra was still resting quietly in bed half-asleep and half-awake. The baby kicked hard, curling her into a ball. Intense pain shot up her shin to her knee. A squeak escaped her lips and turned into whimpers. Still curled into a small ball, the baby kicked again, sending a new round of pain in her womb. Struggling against the pain to get out of bed, she got both feet on the floor and raised up. Immediately her left shin collapsed and she crumpled to the floor. A whimper and moan of pain cried softly from her lips. The tears flowed from her eyes.
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The voice inside Bill cried out, “No, Saundra is in trouble now.”
Her name filled Bill’s mind and brought an immediate reaction, “Where?”
The voice filled Bill with fear, “The bedroom. Get her to the hospital now.”
Bill jumped from the truck and fell to the ground, rolled first to his knees, his side and finally to a prostrate position. What in the world? He glanced down and for the first time noticed his left leg was soaked with blood. Fear and panic filled him.
Get up…you got to keep moving. He got his good leg under him and raised up on it. He hobbled as quickly as he could to the front door. Forgetting the pain in his leg, he reached for the door knob. As the door opened, he fell over the threshold into the living room. Bill winced as the pain increased with the blow, he forced himself to his feet, putting the least amount of pressure on his left leg. “Saundra!”
“Bill, help me,” Saundra’s cries fire a spark into Bill.
Bill hobbled up the stairs with the help of the railing. He went as fast as he could down the hall and into their bedroom.
As Bill entered the room, he saw Saundra lying on the floor in a heap. He rushed over and knelt beside her. He grabbed her hand, “Honey, what’s the matter?”
“The baby is coming now,” She cried out, as Bill watched her face grimace in pain.
The voice took over, “Get her into the Benz. The ride is smoother and it is faster. She needs to get to the hospital now! The baby must live!”
Bill slowly raised Saundra into a sitting position before lifting her up. He held tightly to her five foot five frame, supporting most of her weight.
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