Hey guys. I have decided to create a series in story form. I am not sure if this has been done before, but I thought it might be fun to try out. Here is the first episode of “The Connection.”
Roughly reaching the ledge of the mahogany brick shelves lay a multitude of them. Some are slender, and some are stumpy. Some embody the rustic copper face of an ancient structure, while others show off a crisp modern look. What looks to be a petite older woman walks in. She has pixie-cut evergreen hair and cerulean eyes. Her skin looks like a bronzed metal as she is dressed in a tailored all-black suit. She runs her fingers along the brim of the structure as she leers to find which to choose. Bystanders are captivated as they pause in anticipation of what that might be. She lingers over one that looks to be relatively slim. Everyone shutters as she walks to check it out. On her way home she stops for no one. Many try to untangle her focus of getting home, but she has a purpose. She will review this novel and let the world know her critique. She is known for her opinion among the commoners and most importantly, the writers. What she doesn’t know is that the book that she has chosen is from a smart inquisitive young fellow who only had enough money to put his book in one store — the oldest bookstore in town.
Roger Lewis grew up in a house far different from many. Actually, it wasn’t a house at all. It was, well, home to him anyway. He lived in a house, which he designed himself, made from boxes. He found a way to be secretive in where he inhabited so that he could keep his dignity. He didn’t get much support from his family towards his writing career, so he decided to move out and find a place of his own. Times were hard, but he befriended many and landed a job at a local coffee shop in town. He eventually got enough money to own a one bedroom apartment and begin rigorously writing his first novel. He was able to get a following by word of mouth as he gained a permit to sell his novel for less than its worth on the side of the rode, on the subway and wherever else he could think to go.
Until it happened.
He stumbled across a stout little old man with deep gray hair and lines of wisdom under his eyes.
Old Man: Well hello there. What do you have for me?
Roger: I’m selling my book.
Old Man: Oh really. Why here?
Roger: It’s all I can do right now.
Old Man: I see.
Roger looked distraught and hopeless, but there was a light shining within him, and the old man could see it.
Old Man: Here. Take this.
The old man left without another word. Roger didn’t have enough time to even think, but as he opened his hand, he saw just enough money to publish his book. He couldn’t fathom why this man would be so kind, but he knew that this was his chance.
She walks to her home which is made of deep cobblestone, and as she starts to open the door, she sees her best friend, or her only friend for that matter, standing nearing the bushes.
She: Oh my goodness! DON’T DO THAT!!!
She tries to catch her breath.
Friend: Well, this is the only way you will talk to me. What’s going on? Where have you been? What are you up to? And…
She: I’m fine. I’m fine. I’ve just been…
She: C’mon Iris I didn’t mean it like that.
Iris: You never do Chels. It’s just — I feel like I don’t know you or ever see you or talk. I’m worried about you.
Chelsea walks in the house, and Iris follows behind. She drops her briefcase full of old articles and her laptop and goes over to the stove to put on a cup of tea.
Chelsea: Do you want some?
Iris sits down in a high back wing chair at a table meant for more than two.
Chelsea: (breathes hard) It’s not that I don’t want to hang out. I just have a deadline to uphold.
Iris: You always do. You take on far more than you need to. Everyone in town thinks you just sit at home all day and write reviews to ruin people’s careers. I tell everyone that that’s not the case. I say, “oh she is just harsh because she is skilled, but I think you really do it because you are so lonely that you want every else to be miserable. There’s a party tonight. Show up or don’t.
Iris throws the invite and walks out.
Chelsea wonders if Iris is right. Is that what people think of me?
She gets ready for the party.
To Be Continued…