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The Opening Scene of an Untitled Novel
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The Opening Scene of an Untitled Novel |
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poetry_kills Senior Member
since 1999-12-04
Posts 549new orleans |
The vibrant rays of the early morning sun blanketing his bedroom stirred Alex toward wakening as his eyes fluttered reluctantly open and his arm arched up to fend off the rising sun. With a grunt he shucked off the blankets and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, searching blindly with his toes for house slippers to shield his bare feet from the chilly floor. Finding them he slipped them onto his feet and stretched his arms up over his head with a yawn and a soft sigh before heading for the shower. It had been nearly a year since the finalization of the divorce with Ellen, but he could still detect her scent lingering in the bedroom where they had shared four years of what, to him, had been marital bliss. Even after two years of sleeping alone in the large queen-sized bed her parents had given them as an wedding present he still confined himself to the left half of the bed -- affectionately known as "his side." As he stepped into the shower and turned the gentle spray of water toward his body a soft, soulful sigh escaped his lips. He had loved her, truly loved her. Those who knew him best understood the passion and devotion which had characterized his marriage, but not one person save himself and Ellen truly grasped the depth of his adoration or the powerfully ferocious resolution with which he had pursued her. The lengths to which he had gone to obtain her hand were nothing less than remarkable. With another soft sigh he let his mind drift back to her, as it seemed to do every morning, as the waters of memory pounded down against his back and shoulders as his hands kneaded his scalp with the foamy white suds of his shampoo. He had first met Ellen at the Minneapolis-St.Paul airport while waiting for a delayed flight home. She was beautiful -- he would be the first to admit that, with her long golden-blonde hair, fiery blue eyes that shimmered like the setting sun casting it's last desperate rays upon the waters of the sea, and a slim but feminine physique that was sure to attract more than a few second glances from men both young and old. Yet despite all of this, it was not her beauty that first caught his attention, for he never was one to publicly admire a woman's physical attributes. Rather, he had taken careful notice of the woman who carried by her side a tattered copy of William Shakespeare's The Merchant of Venice. While certainly not light reading, nor one of the better known Shakespearean plays, it had been Alex's favorite since his high school days. He had managed to strike up only a brief conversation about the choice of reading material while sitting across from her previous to boarding the plane. After a short discourse through which he learned that she taught English at a high school in Bloomington, Indiana and was reading the play along with her class for their summer reading assignment he was left to his own thoughts and within a few short moments had conjured an overly romantic image of himself being seated next to this lovely Portia on the plane they were about to board and proving himself her loyal Bassanio through his poetic discussions and irresistable charm. Little did he know just how true, and yet how untrue, his imaginings would prove to be. They were indeed seated close to each other on the plane, seperated albeit by the aisle that ran between the rows of seats and he did indeed prove himself to be her most loyal admirer, though not through poetics or charm. In fact, he did very little charming during that flight, yet despite his bumbling and fumbling he did manage to obtain a slip of paper upon which was scribbled in his own ragged handwriting her name and phone number. Alexander Carson twisted the stainless steel knob which reduced the torrents of the shower head to a steadily slowing drizzle and stepped dripping from the shower, pulling a towel from the rack on his left before leaning his head back into the shower stall and rubbing it frantically with the towel until his hair stood on end, now only slightly damp. He dropped the towel lower and wrapped it around his midsection, cinching it about his waist. Another soft sigh escaped his lips as he stepped up in front of the mirror and reached up to clear away the steam which had fogged up glass. Gazing now upon his reflection, the distant, enchanted, cobwebbed look in his eyes began to clear away and was quickly replaced with the weary, twinkling gaze of an older, but wiser, Alex Carson. Leaning forward he met stare with stare and after a few moments pulled back smiling wryly. "You're not dead yet, though getting to look the part rather well" he quipped to himself as he stared into the mirror and reached up to clear away more of the condensation from the mirror. Let me know what you think (and edit away), Jerome S. Do not be deaf to me, for if you are silent I shall go down to the pit like the rest. (Psalm 28) [This message has been edited by poetry_kills (01-24-2002 10:34 PM).] |
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| © Copyright 2002 Jerome Solomon - All Rights Reserved | |||
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jenni Member
since 1999-09-11
Posts 478Washington D.C. |
hi jerome-- pretty nice scene here; i like the idea of these two shakespeare lovers finding each other in an airport (and i'm glad it's the merchant of venice and not romeo & juliet that brings them together, lol). the conflict seems decent enough -- a year has passed, and our hero alex is still trying to get his life back together again -- and it is introduced right away. i assume you will develop this more. this stuff happened with ellen, but what is alex going to do now? right now, all i can say is this: the first sentence is awkward and wordy -- never a good thing, especially not for a First Sentence. it's hard to tell with such a small fragment of what is or will be a longer work, but i'm not sure the reader needs all the details of alex's morning routine? they seemed a little tedious to me, which may be an unfair comment at this point, i know. as i said, i liked the backstory, it was original and interesting, but ellen seems a bit too perfect, too idealized. again, this may be unfair at this stage in the game, and no doubt as the story goes on you will flesh out her character more and make her seem like a real person. but long blonde hair, shimmering blue eyes, perfect body...lol...unless you're going to make that a plot point (for example, she left him and her job as an english teacher to become a fashion model, and now lives in milan), i'd make her more realistic, less conventional, especially since it is the inner person alex was attracted to in the first place. anyway, i think you're off to a good start here, and i'd certainly like to read more. get alex dressed and back here doing something soon! thanks for a good read, jenni |
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Dusk Treader
Moderator
Senior Member
since 1999-06-18
Posts 1187St. Paul, MN |
I rather liked this short little glimpse at your piece. I may differ from others in this respect, but I like a lot of imagery, I don't think you had too much in this one, except for that first line.. That did get awfully hard to read. "Even after two years of sleeping alone in the large queen-sized bed her parents had given them as an wedding present he still confined himself to the left half of the bed --" your use of "an" before wedding present should be "a" Sorry if I sound anal, but the "a" "an" gets to me. "an" before anything that begins with a vowel sound, and "a" before anything else, LOL The one other thing that bothered me were the "soft sighs." The first one wasn't so bad... Turned my head and made me look at it though.. With the repeating of it though, I thought it awfully odd. Other than that, I enjoyed this piece and I'll be looking forward to additions! "A hard, cold wisom is required for goodness to accomplish good. Goodness without wisdom always accomplishes evil" - Robert Heinlein |
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rich-pa Member
since 2000-02-07
Posts 317New Orleans, Louisiana |
hey old friend, how goes things? i didn't know you ahd moved into the world of prose so i kinda just stumbled on to yer piece here...hmmm, a time ago a piece of me woulda hated to read the whole forlorn lover bit but recent events in my life have caused me to once again appreciate the scenario of love (even unrequited love, as is the case here) i like the imagery and the flashback, though ti did seem to just jump into that headfirst, is that bad? i dunno, i guess the question to ask is, does it work? and i think so, i think you convey what you want to say, or at least what i perceive that it is yer saying (not liek this is some great mistery of the ages it's pretty straightforward thusfar) anywho, thas about all i have to say really, i liked it, i'm interested in where it goes and how it develops...i mean is it just a basic forlorn lover bit or is there so much more? i'm curious, so i guess that's good. anyways, i'm out. "freedom is just another word for nothing left to lose..." -janis joplin |
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