June 22, 2009
So, I’ve started to write a story for a film to be based off of. I tried writing it as a screen play first but figured out it would be easier for me in the long run to set it up as a short first. I don’t have much done, but here’s the first two “chapters” or little sections. I haven’t gone through and edited it yet, so there are probably many errors. 🙂
Chapter 1- Andrew
Faint yellowed rays of sunlight peeped through the cloudy skies as I made my way toward the diner. I was already 10 minutes late. I stuffed my hands into my pockets as the wind picked up speed, sending crumbled remnants of leaves flying into my face. As I reached the diner an older man, with leathery skin and gray wisps of hair peeking out from beneath a suede psuedo cowboy hat held the door open for me, clanging an annoying cow-bell chime. I glanced around the diner, searching for Meg. A pale arm rose up, waving at me from the back corner. I strided over, smiling at Meg and noticing the change of her curls from golden blonde to chocolate brown.
“You changed your hair? It looks nice.”
“Thanks”, she smiled, gently reaching up and twirling a curl around her fingers, “you think mom will like it?”
“Well, you know how crazy mom is about chemicals and altering what god gave you”, I stated rolling my eyes.
“Oh well. I thought it made me look sultry” she laughed.
“Just great, my little sister wants to be a vixen”, I said grinning.
“Oh shush it” she said, laughing.
Meg certainly had grown up. It seemed like she had just gradated high school and was still that geeky, petite girl with braces and too many freckles to be beautiful. But, she was turning into a real beauty. It figures I’d have to worry about guys after she was no longer under my parent’s constant supervision.
The smell of cheap, vanilla body spray entered the area. Glancing up, I saw our waitress, an unnaturally blonde woman who wore too bright of a shade of red lipstick and had failed at an attempt in coloring her cheeks rose and had instead achieved looking overly flushed.
“I’m Sue. What can I get you to drink?”, she asked, smacking her gum as she glared down at her note pad.
“Um, iced tea for me.” I stated.
“Coke for me!” Meg chimed in. I glanced up at her, arching my eye brow, just a month ago she had sworn off of sodas because of her supposed weight gain.
“What? I’ll go to the gym…I get headaches.” She retorted defensively.
“Uh-huh…” I answered, glancing at the waitress as she slumped away.
“So, what’s my big brother been up to lately? Any good news stories?” Meg asked while twirling her napkin and silverware around in a circle on the off-white table top.
“You know it, the Daily Life section leads to such late breaking news stories such as Grandma reminiscing over the dog who found Little Tommy in the well in the 1950’s or Uncle Joe recalling the opening of Fred’s Drug Store during the end of World War II…” I flashed my eyebrows up, halfway rolling my eyes, “real exciting, edge of your seat kind of stuff.”
“Andrew! You’ve only been there for like what? A year? You can’t expect to get all the great stories right away…maybe that dog was a hero…” Meg said, sympathetically, with a bit of a giggle.
“Yeah…just may…” I cut my sentence off.
I struggled to put my thoughts into focus. Near the piercing cow-bell chimed door a woman, at least 10 years my senior, sat alone. She sat like a proper lady, or at least what I envision a proper lady should sit like, hands folded, fingers lightly intertwined, placed atop the white plywood tabletop. She stared out the window, her mahogany curls shifted lightly upon the milky whiteness of her cardigan. Her mouth opened slightly as she sighed, revealing pearl white teeth, standing out in sharp contrast to her rose colored lips. Her eyes averted downward, then suddenly shot upward, right in my direction. A hint of shock showed in her face, as her eyes widened and her perfectly arched eyebrows shot up. She looked as if she had seen a ghost rather than caught a man staring at her. My skin begin to heat under her confusingly terrified stare. I quickly averted my eyes downward, looking back up in time to see her jogging down the street, with the cowbell ringing out of control from the slammed door.
“Andrew! What’s wrong with you?!” Meg slightly yelled, narrowing her eyes at me. “Am I really that boring?”
“No…there was this woman…” I answered, still staring at the now empty table.
“Oh God…you and women. I’m going to tell mom you’re trying to pick up dates while having dinner with me, that’ll give you an earful.”
I half way smiled, not really listening. My thoughts were focused upon the fearful woman and her apparent knowledge of me.
I got into my car, tossing my messenger bag and notepad into the passenger seat. Glancing at the clock, I shoved my keys in and shifted into reverse. I was late, yet again, for an interview with some old lady reminiscing about her youthful days long past. My afternoon had been wasted thinking about the woman with mahogany curls from the diner. I had searched my mind for any connection I could possibly have to her. Did I know her from somewhere? Had I met her before? Did we have a mutual friend? I didn’t think I had that bad of a memory. I just can’t think of any other logical reason for her to look as if she was caught red handed and I was going to scold her. Perhaps she had just mistaken me for someone else…that was logical.
I parked my car in the driveway of a blue and white house, complete with a white washed porch and rocking chairs. Perfect, another afternoon recalling Aunt Mae’s old days at the county fair. I got out, grabbing my bag and my notepad and made my way up to the door. I completed three sharp knocks on the door, slightly shifting the bags weight to my right side. The door opened and the scent of vanilla wandered through.
“Hello, you must be Mr. Ashley,” a soft, playful voice questioned.
I looked up, away from my bag, automatically extending my hand. I stopped half way. Staring directly at me were the same ice blue orbs from the diner. My eyes widened in confusion. I searched the rest of her face, finding the same rose lips and nature sable blush to her cheeks. The only difference was the hint of gray in her mahogany hair, which was pulled into a bun. My mouth opened and I gasped slightly. Standing in front of me was the same woman from the diner, with one distinct difference, she was 20 or so years older.