Inspired by a recent thread by @John McClane...
https://www.movieforums.com/communit...ad.php?t=60073
I thought I'd start a thread to submit writing.
I've been toying with a short story and thought maybe I'd write it here (in increments).
I'm doing it this way because maybe it will motivate me to actually finish it.
One of my biggest problems with writing is I'm too verbose and my short stories turn into long ones.
Don't want to say too much about what it's about or what it might turn into (stories often tend to take on a life of their own and even sometimes turn into something you had no idea would happen), but I have an idea in my head as to how it ends up.
So, I just typed out a couple short chapters. Feedback is welcome. Let me know if you want to read more or if I'd be better off just keeping it to myself (or submitting in complete form it once it's done - if it gets "done"!)
I don't even have a title for it yet so...
Untitled Short Story:
Chapter 1:
Ol’ Dodger rubbed the side of his face against the woodwork surrounding the doorway to apartment 4G.
His face hurt as he marked the doorway with half-dried blood. He had a large gash at the side of his mouth that ran all the way up to his eye and half his left ear was now gone, leaving the jagged shape of a bite that almost matched the feint remnants of what could have been a scar on his right side, but then most tom cats aren’t still fighting nightly at the age of 26 years old.
Dodger looked for the saucer of milk that was usually placed in the hallway by his old friend but it was not there. He rubbed his hind quarters against the doorway and purred loudly despite his pain, but nonetheless, his friend didn’t appear from behind the closed door.
Apartment 4G was the home of David Reardon, probably Dodger’s favorite tenant as David would put the saucer of milk outside his door almost religiously and would pet Dodger’s head every morning before he went off to work, leaving Dodger feeling better after his long nights of claiming territory and trying to establish dominance over the other local stray males.
Ol’ Dodger ended his purring with a long guttural sigh, somehow instinctively knowing his pain would be with him a long time this time around. He limped begrudgingly down the stairs to see if Mrs. Fisher, the landlady, had left anything out for him.
Chapter 2:
Three months earlier:
David Reardon hurried to collect his brief case and umbrella as he donned his overcoat. He expelled air out of his puffed cheeks in relief that the day’s drudgery was once again at an end. He said goodnight to the other bookkeepers as he passed their desks. He was rushing to get to a meeting with his mother’s accountant. At least it was something different after work for a change instead of heading home to his one bedroom apartment.
His mother had asked him to meet with Mr. Bannister to go over some details of her estate. It seemed David had to tend to all his mother’s affairs these days as she became more immobile each month.
As the meeting wrapped up, Mr. Bannister said, “Well, you can’t pay too much attention to these things, especially at your mother’s age. It’s best to get things in order now than… in more trying times. And it’s so good she has you to help her. Rest assured, Mr. Reardon, should the time come, everything will be in order and you’ll have very little difficulty with all the details – and as you well know, these days, the state doesn’t make it easy.”
“I can’t thank you enough, Mr. Bannister.” David said as he shook Bannister’s hand.
Bannister winced slightly as he reflexively pulled his hand away.
“Oh! I’m sorry, sir! Did I hurt you?” David asked in surprise, after all David was only a slight man and not very strong, especially not in his grip.
“On no, Mr. Reardon, it’s quite all right, I assure you… it’s just that I injured my hand many years ago… got it caught in a press machine of all things. I guess it never healed quite properly and it gives me a bit of trouble. Plus, the weather doesn’t help – arthritis you know. Been a damned nuisance ever since, so much so that I had to teach myself to write with my left hand.”
“Oh my! How awful.” David said, “Looks like you’ll have to shake hands with the left then as well?”
“Yes, I’ve tried that, but gentlemen don’t often take well to left-handed handshakes. But thank you for your concern. Please give my best to your mother.” Bannister rubbed his right hand with his left as he watched David Reardon depart, smiling quietly as the pain between the bones in his hand was quickly subsiding.
https://www.movieforums.com/communit...ad.php?t=60073
I thought I'd start a thread to submit writing.
I've been toying with a short story and thought maybe I'd write it here (in increments).
I'm doing it this way because maybe it will motivate me to actually finish it.
One of my biggest problems with writing is I'm too verbose and my short stories turn into long ones.
Don't want to say too much about what it's about or what it might turn into (stories often tend to take on a life of their own and even sometimes turn into something you had no idea would happen), but I have an idea in my head as to how it ends up.
So, I just typed out a couple short chapters. Feedback is welcome. Let me know if you want to read more or if I'd be better off just keeping it to myself (or submitting in complete form it once it's done - if it gets "done"!)
I don't even have a title for it yet so...
Untitled Short Story:
Chapter 1:
Ol’ Dodger rubbed the side of his face against the woodwork surrounding the doorway to apartment 4G.
His face hurt as he marked the doorway with half-dried blood. He had a large gash at the side of his mouth that ran all the way up to his eye and half his left ear was now gone, leaving the jagged shape of a bite that almost matched the feint remnants of what could have been a scar on his right side, but then most tom cats aren’t still fighting nightly at the age of 26 years old.
Dodger looked for the saucer of milk that was usually placed in the hallway by his old friend but it was not there. He rubbed his hind quarters against the doorway and purred loudly despite his pain, but nonetheless, his friend didn’t appear from behind the closed door.
Apartment 4G was the home of David Reardon, probably Dodger’s favorite tenant as David would put the saucer of milk outside his door almost religiously and would pet Dodger’s head every morning before he went off to work, leaving Dodger feeling better after his long nights of claiming territory and trying to establish dominance over the other local stray males.
Ol’ Dodger ended his purring with a long guttural sigh, somehow instinctively knowing his pain would be with him a long time this time around. He limped begrudgingly down the stairs to see if Mrs. Fisher, the landlady, had left anything out for him.
Chapter 2:
Three months earlier:
David Reardon hurried to collect his brief case and umbrella as he donned his overcoat. He expelled air out of his puffed cheeks in relief that the day’s drudgery was once again at an end. He said goodnight to the other bookkeepers as he passed their desks. He was rushing to get to a meeting with his mother’s accountant. At least it was something different after work for a change instead of heading home to his one bedroom apartment.
His mother had asked him to meet with Mr. Bannister to go over some details of her estate. It seemed David had to tend to all his mother’s affairs these days as she became more immobile each month.
As the meeting wrapped up, Mr. Bannister said, “Well, you can’t pay too much attention to these things, especially at your mother’s age. It’s best to get things in order now than… in more trying times. And it’s so good she has you to help her. Rest assured, Mr. Reardon, should the time come, everything will be in order and you’ll have very little difficulty with all the details – and as you well know, these days, the state doesn’t make it easy.”
“I can’t thank you enough, Mr. Bannister.” David said as he shook Bannister’s hand.
Bannister winced slightly as he reflexively pulled his hand away.
“Oh! I’m sorry, sir! Did I hurt you?” David asked in surprise, after all David was only a slight man and not very strong, especially not in his grip.
“On no, Mr. Reardon, it’s quite all right, I assure you… it’s just that I injured my hand many years ago… got it caught in a press machine of all things. I guess it never healed quite properly and it gives me a bit of trouble. Plus, the weather doesn’t help – arthritis you know. Been a damned nuisance ever since, so much so that I had to teach myself to write with my left hand.”
“Oh my! How awful.” David said, “Looks like you’ll have to shake hands with the left then as well?”
“Yes, I’ve tried that, but gentlemen don’t often take well to left-handed handshakes. But thank you for your concern. Please give my best to your mother.” Bannister rubbed his right hand with his left as he watched David Reardon depart, smiling quietly as the pain between the bones in his hand was quickly subsiding.
Last edited by Captain Steel; 09-23-19 at 09:22 PM.