...Or, Other People's Stories, Part 2...
I'm pleased to at last share the following opening paragraphs from two friends' works-in-progress. Both are novels, and by writers committed to their craft--even more impressively, in the face of other full-time jobs.
I hope to add more opening scenes and pages from others--feel free to send any opening pages to me anyone may have, if you're inclined to share. This stems, as I mentioned in an earlier post, from the number of people who have confided in me their own interest in writing, once I "came clean" about the writing I've done for years, often without showing anyone else.
We all have a story to tell, and my hope is that this is the right time and place to share some of those stories.
The first work is from Matt, who originally comes from Florida and writes with a riveting urban intensity about friends and relationships and how complicated this can all be. His excerpt is from the unfinished The Wingman.
Deb's opening paragraphs are to a complex story she's been shaping for some time, one that promises readers a rich and unexpected journey to places far removed from their daily lives and ordinary experiences. Her working title is In the Cards.
Feel free to read and enjoy these openings, to comment and encourage their authors, and again, if you're inclined, to share through Comments any of your own brief introductory material you may want to share as well.
Others have already expressed a desire to have some of their material appear here, too, and I hope to have more online soon.
But for now, enjoy these excerpts from In the Cards and The Wingman.
The Wingman
By Matthew Fair
Copyright (c) 2014 by Matthew Fair
Chapter 1
The Player
Standing at six foot and four inches,
DK always attracted attention. He was
used to being mistaken for an NBA, NFL, or MLB star. He just had that “star” look. His skin was paper bag brown and he possessed
a body that looked as if it was chiseled from granite by Leonardo Da Vinci
himself. He kept his head shaved and
nails manicured. He was handsome and he
knew it. Man, did he know it! DK played college football at the nearby
university and made a name for himself.
He was fierce and relentless at linebacker. The team followed him blindly and with good
reason. He willed them to win the big
games. He made plays in the “clutch”:
last second interceptions, goal line game saving tackles, game saving
quarterback sacks. He was labeled as
“The One.” After his stellar college
career, he was drafted into the NFL.
While he was successful in the NFL, his career was short lived. He
suffered a career ending knee injury after his third season. The surgeons did their best, but the knee
would never hold up under another season. DK walked away from the game with his
money saved and his dignity intact. He opened his own private bodyguard agency.
“All Out Security” was his “baby” and it opened all types of doors for
him. He rubbed elbows with dignitaries,
movie stars, singers and models. His
small business even had its own limo and driver, but best of all, the business
brought in women…lots of women.
Wayman was six foot one and built like
a sprinter/basketball player. He was
easy to miss unless you got close. His face was “familiar” and handsome. He was
always mistaken as a cousin or high school friend to complete strangers. He
kept his hair in a low fade cut and didn’t shave unless he had to. His chosen
wardrobe was jeans and sweat pants and a t-shirt that was one or two sizes too
big, the opposite of DK’s. He played
football at the same college with DK. He
was the free safety on the defense that DK starred on. Wayman was known as the “The Last Man
Standing”. If DK missed a tackle, it was Wayman that stopped the play from
turning into a touchdown. If the ball was thrown deep, he was always there
breaking up the big play or sending the wide receiver to the side line injured.
One coach called him one of the hardest hitting some bitches to ever wear the
jersey. He never celebrated or called attention to himself. He was a Spartan
warrior. He loved being a piece of machinery in the engine known as a team. His
hard hitting style was his undoing.
After the fourth concussion in the final game of his senior
year, the team doctors banned him from ever playing the game again. The NFL heard of this and declared him
“damaged goods.” He hung around with DK after college. He took care of the
little things for him while he played and buried himself in the playbook and
studied film. The bills were paid, expensive clothes were dry cleaned and the
car was well maintained because of Wayman.
When DK’s NFL career was over, Wayman helped him with “All Out
Security.” He drove the limo and kept the appointment book. Wayman had two other jobs too. He delivered documents around town for one of
his younger brother’s fledgling delivery service and waited tables at his other
brother’s deli. He was the friend
everyone would love to have or be. He
was also DK’s wingman.
In the Cards
By Deb Eisloeffel
The sharp sound would have jolted Rose from a dead sleep, if she hadn’t already been awake. If she had been sleeping, she might have blinked, unfamiliar with her surroundings, until the outline of a curtained window coalesced from the darkness into a recognizable form. Her window, her curtains, she would have realized. Still at home, in her own room.
The sound came again, snapping her attention to the clock, which announced 1:22 a.m. The numbers had not changed since she last looked at it. She could now hear a soft murmur of voices accompanying the fluttering rattle. Bibi and Cassie. Who else? She liked Cassie, but Rose had known from the beginning that letting her stay would be a bad idea. It was hard enough to get to sleep before the big day. The added distraction of a sleepover simply made it worse.
With a loud sigh that descended to a soft growl, Rose flipped the covers back and swung her legs from the bed. She could yell from here, but that would have less impact. Besides, she was curious about the noise. She padded down the hall, her way lit by a playful kitten nightlight, and tapped Bibi’s closed door. Without waiting for an answer, she pushed it open.
Three candles flickered on a low table in the middle of the room, softly illuminating the space. Bibi and her best friend Cassie, sitting cross-legged on the floor opposite one another, froze and looked up in alarm. Cassie held a fanned deck of cards in offering to Bibi, who was ready to pluck one from the spread. In her other hand she clutched two more.
