I want to write a novel, I'm trying to get my storyline though. I have three main characters, but just messing around with new ideas and trying to figure out my story. Enjoy or don't, its not much but I'll try and put more on here, or continue it thanks. xx Its a first draft some of the sentences might be a bit wrong, words etc.
Would he remember me if I walked past casually? Would he feel a rush of feelings that he lacked before? Does he still have the tiny
scar on his upper lip? I have fought so much this past year that I give up on wondering. So, confidently, without no procrastination, I
His eyes glanced my way but then back to continue to straighten a pack of chocolate hobnobs on the shelf. I tried again,
I felt a cold grip clench my heart as his face turned, peering up at me. His eyes wide.
"Hi" I whispered, the confidence drained out of me. I glanced down and bit my bottom lip. The silence was not good, but well
needed, in this silence I reflected on our times together and the whole hungry love epic that burned out just as it began to flourish. I
thought about our friendship and vows we made to each other, and then felt the guilt and the realisation that I missed him, more then I
missed my own life.
He stood up, crouched to peer into the next aisle and then he was leaning from side to side to look out of the window beyond the tillpoints.
Charles, he was looking for Charles.
"His not here"
Scott looked back at me, his eyes narrow. He charged towards me and I felt a different kind of fear. I did not fear a fight or another dark
creature, or even death these last couple of months. But the feeling that Scott might never forgive me would be death to me.
He gripped my arm tight, and growled into my face,
"What are you doing here? What do you want?"
The anger in his eyes was so agonising that I couldn't stand to look at him, I mumbled to the ground,
"Charles is gone, his not coming back"
I staggered to the side as he shook me to look at him, I left my eyes to study the grip of his hand getting tighter around my arm.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
I blinked up and found the scar resting on his pouted lips, and then gazed into them hard wet eyes.
"His gone scott, you...you were right, and...I just wanted to say...you were right"
He gulped and looked nervously around, but at six at night no customers seemed to disturb us.
"and?" he asked.
Loosening his grip, I said,
"and thats it" I nodded, and pulled myself out of his grip, So he did not feel me tremble with need. I stared down at his black shoes and nodded again, raising my hands to fiddle with my hair, and sneakily disguise the sadness in my face.
"See you Scott"
I turned around and sniffed.
"Tas" I felt him move closer behind me.
But then something happened which was for the best for both of us, the small rough voice croaked out,
"excuse me? Do you work here? I want some pork sausages, do you do pork sausages?"
"oh...uuumm yes, yes we do"
"You see I need them for tomorrow..."
I walked down the aisle, my head held up high, and kept my lips firmly perched together. Sobbing, crying that was for humans, not me.