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Member
Join Date: Jul 2003
Location: The Netherlands
Posts: 2
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Untiteled (Chapter one of my book)
I'm currently working on a book. I'm only on page 7, but here's the first chapter:
- Chapter One -
I ran up the stairs as fast as I could, looking at my watch every ten seconds. One minute to go. I nearly knocked down an old woman as I ran around the corner. My heart started pounding faster and faster. What if I didn't make it in time? What would happen then? I couldn't stop to think of the horrors that would await me. I had to keep running. There was still time, although it wasn't much.
Finally I reached the platform. But where was the train? It couldn't have left already, could it? My watch said I still had fifteen seconds before the train would leave. It just couldn't be true. I asked an old man if he knew where the train was.
"The train? Oh, yes. It left early."
It left early? It just left early? Why did it leave early? Why couldn't it wait a few more seconds? Aren't trains supposed to run late in stead of leave early? Isn't that what trains are all about? But why that train did what it had done didn't matter. Now I had to concentrate on one thing and one thing only. I had to think of a way to keep myself from getting fired.
I worked as a writer at a magazine called the Monthly Muse. I had a column somewhere in a corner on page 26. Barely anyone read, or let alone even noticed it, but the job paid well. My boss, Jonah McLane, was a strict man who never showed any sign of emotions. I never thought of him as a family man, and that didn't change when he introduced me to his wife and sixteen-year-old son at the Monthly Muse’s 10th anniversary two years ago. To me, he was still the most cold-hearted man I had ever known. And in my opinion I had a very good reason to think of him that way. Because of him I was forced spend most of my time working, leaving barely any time to spend with Alice, Jarek and my other friends. Heck, I didn't even have the time to eat, or even sleep, properly before I went to work. Every morning I had to get up at five, take a shower, have a quick breakfast and leave at six to arrive at work a half an hour later. But usually I woke up around five thirty, took a brief shower, shoved some HappyDay Energy cookies in my mouth and left at a quarter past six to arrive at work at a quarter to seven. If I didn't miss the train, that is, which was the case pretty often. McLane already gave me a warning; if I was late one more time, I could very well loose my job. And with "could very well" he meant "definitely would".
So there I was, walking towards work on the sidewalk, which really needed a better name since the roads disappeared thirty years ago along with private transport. Everyone used public transport these days. It was more nature friendly since it used less power to move more people. Besides, cars were getting much too expensive to maintain. The gas alone costed a fortune.
But my mind was straying off the subject. I had to think of a way to keep my job. It was hard enough finding a job the first time. I didn't want to go through that again.
I reckoned it would be shorter if I walked, since the next train wouldn't arrive in another thirty minutes. Normally it wouldn't take that long, but today was Wednesday and for some odd reason there were less trains available.
So after a forty-five minute walk in the sweltering sun I arrived at the ACC, the American Company Centre, one of the tallest and most crowded buildings in the area because of its two hundred and one floors and containment of over five thousand people.
I entered the building through its automatic glass doors, showed my card to security and got into the elevator. I pushed the button that would take me to the 7th floor and waited while listening to Gregg Winque's 'One Last Song for You'. The jazzy number one hit song worked quite relaxing and I became more and more confident that I was going to keep my job.
I reached my destination and got out of the elevator. Jenny Sanders, McLane's assistant, seemed to have been waiting for me to arrive. And she wasn't the only one.
"He's expecting you," she said with a sad voice. She seemed to pity me for getting fired.
But I was not going to let him clean my desk out. I walked towards McLane's office and knocked on the door.
"Come in."
I opened the door and there he was, sitting in his large, leather chair and looking quite angry with me. His hair was getting whiter with each day, which I could easily notice since his white hairs contrasted extremely with his black ones.
"Late again, Mr. Baldwins," he said in his usual cold voice.
"I know. And I'm very, very sorry, sir. And I deserve a punishment, but I beg of you, please don't fire me. I have nowhere else to go. It took me almost a year to find this job. Please, sir. I'll even work for half the money if you want me to."
There, I said it. The only question now was; would it work? There was a short silence as McLane gave it a thought while lighting a cigarette.
"I was surprised to hear yesterday that some people buy our magazine only because of your column, Mr. Baldwins. It seams you actually do contribute to our profit". He exhaled some smoke and continued. "Therefor I think your offer is quite acceptable. It's a deal, Mr. Baldwins. You can stay, but at the expense of half your salary."
It worked? I wasn't fired? I couldn't believe it! I wasn't fired! I could have jumped through the roof out of joy, but I kept my calm.
"Thank you, sir. I knew we could come to an understanding. And I promise you; you won't regret this. I will write you the best column you have ever seen."
"I bet you will, Mr. Baldwins. Now get to work."
I left McLane's office with a big smile on my face and when I closed the door I let it all out. I jumped what felt like ten feet in the air, cheering as loud as I could. Jenny Sanders looked at me puzzled.
"I can stay! I didn't get fired!" I cheered, repeating the sentence over and over again. "I can stay!"
Jenny's puzzled look was replaced by one filled with joy and she joined my cheering ritual.
"Yeah, that's how it's going to happen," I said to myself. The plan was perfect. It just had to work.
After a forty-five minute walk in the sweltering sun I arrived at the ACC. I entered the building through its automatic glass doors, showed my card to security and got into the elevator. Damn it, they were playing that irritating band called Weeh-Mice. Everywhere I went, every time I was near a speaker I was forced to listen to their number one hit song 'Damn you rock' over and over again. At first I decided to ignore the horrible sounds of Weeh-Mice members singing and playing their instruments, but as I heard the song more and more often I actually became irritated by it. What could I do? The only way to not hear those guys ever again was to wear earplugs the entire day, which wasn't such a great idea.
I pushed the button that would take me to the 7th floor and waited while trying to ignore the song. I reached my destination and got out of the elevator. Jenny Sanders seemed to have waited for me to arrive.
"You're here, finally. I already packed your stuff. It's all there inside the two boxes on your desk. You can take everything but the computer. However, you have been given the time to copy all important files to the GigaSpace disk lying on the right side of your keyboard. Do you need any help carrying?"
What? He already let Jenny clean my desk out? Wasn't there going to be a talk or something? This wasn't part of the plan. It seemed he had already fired me before I even had a chance to defend myself.
I was shocked. Stunned. I had a plan, a very good one, and I didn't even get the chance to act it out.
I could have expected this, however. If I wasn't so caught up in my imagination I could have foreseen McLane would act this way. He was the kind of man who didn't care about the opinions of others, unless they were similar to his. He didn't care what I thought of the situation. He wouldn't care about my proposal to work for him for only half of my payment. The only thing he did care about was me being late again and getting fired for this. There was absolutely nothing I could have done to make him change his mind. Nothing…
So I did the only thing I could. I copied my files to the GigaSpace disk and left the office with the rest of my stuff.
As irony would have it, I heard to Gregg Winque's 'One Last Song for You' on the way down. The jazzy number one hit song didn't work as relaxing as it did in my fantasies. Relaxation was not to be seen anywhere and neither was confidence.
I exited the building and entered the realm of the sweltering sun once again. I prepared myself for a long and tiring journey through the boiling city.
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"Time is life, but does not stop with death..."
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, for commenting and for complimenting 
. I've been waiting for some comments 
