Hopscotch
December 30th, 2013, 02:07 PM
Hi - I describe a charachter at the start - the Barkeep A) Does the description work? B) Would you describe a charachter that has no big role to play? He is a reflection of the things that do the menialtasks of this society. (I used to be a bartender). Cheers.
Chapter 1 – Childhood
They met in the bar of the People’s Friend Hotel, gave the impression of a party accidently met. He was dour in an over coat peppered white with snow. Her layer upon layer of thick jumpers was a well-fed mishmash of colour. They were studies of isolation, separated by few words. The room was long and thin, the bar ran its length covered by riveted steel. Stools topped with torn leather frayed with age or use populated the floor. The pair sat astride and watched each other through a muck streaked mirror on the back wall. A barkeep pottered adjusting bottles and polishing glass.
He watched the Barkeep, its skin like tissue paper, spidery blue veins criss-crossed milky flesh, chest heaved as if lungs were too big for their frame, moved as if someone had planned the motion, scribbled hastily onto scrumpled paper. A new-born’s gait with a practiced accuracy of a drunks walk home.
He placed a hand on the steel topped bar and knocked. Its blank face looked at him and blinked. “Yes worker, what would you like?” It’s voice a dial tone.
He looked at the androgynous thing. She pretended not to listen. “Barkeep, I booked a room, 34A, is it ready?” The thing slow blinked him, a wet sucking sound. The sound of the past being dredged.
“Yes worker, Jacob Masterson, 39, Guard of Gulag 8324, Relatives of Traitors. Your room is ready, please enjoy your stay.” It offered a clammy hand which held the key. He stared at it, cringed at the thought he had to touch the thing.
“Anything else we can help you with today?” It produced a gum filled smile probably learnt from a manual.
“No.” He said.
“Serve well then worker.” The pale thing replied.
He grunted, took the key, and left his half-finished drink on the bar. He wished they wouldn’t smile. She pretended not to notice him leave, ordered another, finished it, and then disappeared into the bowels of the hotel.
In the room, drawn curtains barricaded the darkness in. A table lamp illuminated the room. She lay on the bed. Jacob checked the cabinet for a Bible, but found only a film of dust. ‘What would it help’ he thought, as he walked to the door, took the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign, and hung it on the other side. Her face contorted into a visage of pain, an awkward furrow. Teeth clenched she stifled a scream. He rushed to her side and watched her suffer. A rising panic in his chest, trying to remember the fogged detail of advice never sought. The child screamed, wet to the world.
Chapter 1 – Childhood
They met in the bar of the People’s Friend Hotel, gave the impression of a party accidently met. He was dour in an over coat peppered white with snow. Her layer upon layer of thick jumpers was a well-fed mishmash of colour. They were studies of isolation, separated by few words. The room was long and thin, the bar ran its length covered by riveted steel. Stools topped with torn leather frayed with age or use populated the floor. The pair sat astride and watched each other through a muck streaked mirror on the back wall. A barkeep pottered adjusting bottles and polishing glass.
He watched the Barkeep, its skin like tissue paper, spidery blue veins criss-crossed milky flesh, chest heaved as if lungs were too big for their frame, moved as if someone had planned the motion, scribbled hastily onto scrumpled paper. A new-born’s gait with a practiced accuracy of a drunks walk home.
He placed a hand on the steel topped bar and knocked. Its blank face looked at him and blinked. “Yes worker, what would you like?” It’s voice a dial tone.
He looked at the androgynous thing. She pretended not to listen. “Barkeep, I booked a room, 34A, is it ready?” The thing slow blinked him, a wet sucking sound. The sound of the past being dredged.
“Yes worker, Jacob Masterson, 39, Guard of Gulag 8324, Relatives of Traitors. Your room is ready, please enjoy your stay.” It offered a clammy hand which held the key. He stared at it, cringed at the thought he had to touch the thing.
“Anything else we can help you with today?” It produced a gum filled smile probably learnt from a manual.
“No.” He said.
“Serve well then worker.” The pale thing replied.
He grunted, took the key, and left his half-finished drink on the bar. He wished they wouldn’t smile. She pretended not to notice him leave, ordered another, finished it, and then disappeared into the bowels of the hotel.
In the room, drawn curtains barricaded the darkness in. A table lamp illuminated the room. She lay on the bed. Jacob checked the cabinet for a Bible, but found only a film of dust. ‘What would it help’ he thought, as he walked to the door, took the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign, and hung it on the other side. Her face contorted into a visage of pain, an awkward furrow. Teeth clenched she stifled a scream. He rushed to her side and watched her suffer. A rising panic in his chest, trying to remember the fogged detail of advice never sought. The child screamed, wet to the world.