Here is the draft opening two scenes in my NaNoWriMo novel:
Wed Jan 20 9:05PM
Robert Andrews trudged through the cold night, heavy bags in
hand, heading toward the parking lot where his equally cold car awaited. It was game night at his favorite comic book
store so he stayed to watch the players for a couple of hours after paying for
his books.
Construction near the store meant that the car was even
further than usual. Robert hated parking
in the far lot. The few operating street
lights never seemed to actually help one actually see, but rather highlighted
the disrepair of the adjoining buildings.
He rested his shopping bags on the ground for a moment to
fish the car keys from his coat pocket. But before keys could meet the door
lock ….. WHAM! …. Rob found himself on the ground, glasses thrown from his
face. The next breath caused his ribs
to complain bitterly.
“What is THIS?” … Rob grabbed his glasses in reflex and
turned toward the voice.
“I SAID, what is THIS?” … A young brute of a man had fists
full of crumpled comic books. The rest
of the books were scattered on the icy pavement.
“How am I supposed to get any money for THIS?”. Rob thought to himself that he himself had
just spent quite a few dollars on the 3 weeks worth of comics lying at the
thug’s feet.
The light bespectacled Robert was no challenge for the bigger
man to pluck from the ground and heft against an SUV. Robert’s feet almost dangled as his attacker's eyes burned.
“Gimme all your money!” the thief demanded.
“I’d really rather not” was the meek reply.
“What DID you say?”
“Sorry, I’ll speak up … I’d really rather not. For that matter, I must insist that you back
off. If you do, then I’ll let you go in
peace. Otherwise, I can’t promise anything.” Robert said in a shockingly calm
voice.
“....” After a long pause, the brute blinked. Shock gave way to anger and frustration.
A fist drew back. The
small man grew heavy and feet dropped to the pavement. Rob’s expression changed to one of
defiance. The mugger just wanted to end
it.
Fist met face … and the fist lost. The big man snatched his hand back in
pain. Obscenities flew. Robert brushed off and walked calmly toward
his attacker.
A fist drew back slightly.
The young man shrunk back involuntary. The punch to the chest stunned
and dropped the criminal to the ground.
“Now we are even.
Please, let’s not do this again.”
In the dark, the predator fled his intended prey.
Rob leaned back against his car and rested for a moment ... a
cracked rib mended and bruised tissue healed.
Bending down, he picked up the remains of his purchases and got into his
car.
…
Wed Jan 20, 9:45PM
In his small apartment, Robert laid out the comic books on
the table. All were damaged, but most were readable. “Darn it! Why did he have to destroy the new
‘Power Team #1’? Now I have to avoid the
Internet until I can get another copy.” Robert sighed. He made a short list of the comic books he
was going to go back for tomorrow, this time during lunch to avoid another
potential altercation. This was all
distraction and Rob knew it.
Robert Andrews walked into the bathroom and stood in front of
the mirror for long moments. A lined
face with graying hair looked back at him.
He was just a 50-ish IT guy with a failed marriage, a poor diet, and a
daughter he only saw every other weekend.
Why did he have these … powers he couldn’t explain? Sure they just saved him a load of pain less
than an hour before; but he was a peaceful person. He really didn’t feel good about hitting
someone, even in self-defense. Or was it
defending himself, he wondered, if in less than a second he could … he had no
words for what he could do ... DID do.
He needed someone to talk to someone.
The whole thing was crazy wasn’t it … or maybe he was.
Regardless he needed to confide in someone. Perhaps even if he were crazy, it would be
better to know that than not, right?
Jason … perhaps Jason could handle it.
His cousin wasn’t just family but a life-long friend. Tomorrow he’d call Jason and schedule a
meeting to talk about … everything. But
now it was time to get some sleep.
Robert unfolded the couch into a semblance of a bed, put a
pile with the day’s mail and about a third of the comics beside him. He didn’t remember falling asleep, just
walking up at 3AM with the television playing some infomercial. He hit the mute button on the remote and
rolled back over to sleep for a few more hours.