Frank - a work in progress
FrankPosted by Neil Colquhoun Sun, February 14, 2010 23:23:16
Read what I've posted below from the story and make some suggestions based on the five questions below. I will pick out the best (and plausible!) comments and ideas and incorporate them into the story.
The best suggestions also get a character name of their choice written into the story.
The two parts of the story are:
(a) An extract from the PROLOGUE: Frank is meeting with an as yet unnamed woman (the meeting is a recurring one) outside a coffee shop. It is obvious Frank is either hiding from, or pursuing someone, from the events which occur after they move inside the coffee shop.
(b) An extract from CHAPTER 4: Frank is in an alley and scouting the location before 'Them' arrive.
Questions at this stage are:
1. Who exactly is Frank?
2. Why is he meeting with a woman on a regular basis?
3. Who is shooting at Frank?
4. Who are 'Them?
5. Why is he in the alley?
GOOD LUCK AND HAPPY READING.
Your options for leaving suggestions are:
1. At the bottom of this post by leaving a comment.
2. Visit neilcolquhoun dot com and leave a comment using the form on the contact page.
3. Send me e-mail ---> necol@neilcolquhoun.com
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Frank - a work in progress.
Prologue:
“It was the same dream,” he said and curled his hands around the coffee cup. The liquid was dark and hot, little wisps of steam rising into the frigid air. He exhaled, his breath forming little clouds before dispersing slowly in the slight breeze.“It’s cold,” she said and blew on her hands. “Why don’t we go inside?” As if to illustrate her point further, she pulled the collar of her coat up her neck and adjusted her cap.
He shook his head slowly. “I like it out here. It makes me feel alive.”
She stared, a look of concern on her face, willing him to look up. She’d hoped for a better response this time but experience told her that was probably all he was going to give her. She tried once more to nudge him into revealing more.
“Why is it always the same dream? Do you ever dream anything else?” she asked him.
She waited, counting out the seconds in her head. The rule she had was that if a patient didn't respond within the first thirty seconds then it was almost certain they would choose to remain silent. Sometimes, just to be sure, she would wait a full minute before moving on. In all of her previous conversations with Frank he never elaborated further. The information offered was just that he had experienced the dream again.
At the first meeting he'd made it quite clear though that the dream disturbed him. She'd wanted to press him but he'd clammed up, just saying it kept him awake at night.
The seconds went by and she was almost at the minute mark when the sound of his voice surprised her. She blinked a few times, wondering if she was imagining things. For too long she had accepted the fact that he chose to keep the dream to himself. She'd become complacent, counting the seconds out by routine so she was momentarily stunned at what he had said.
“You want to tell me more about the dream?” she asked.
He caught her gaze and held it, his pale blue eyes clear and focused. “Yes,” he replied.
“Okay Frank, but I think we should go inside.” She felt excited but couldn't stay much longer outside in the cold. Did he not feel the cold like she did?
He took another sip from the coffee then set it on the table and sat back in his chair. He looked around him, letting his eyes linger over the few people in the park. He nodded slightly a few times in acknowledgement.
“Yeah, we could go inside,” he said.
They both stood up. Frank lifted the cup, drained it and went inside. The coffee-house was warm despite the full-length floor-to-ceiling windows which covered three sides. Each of the sides showed a view of the park, the fourth side encompassed the serving area and, behind it, the preparation rooms and storage areas. Frank's eyes swept the room and, seemingly satisfied that all was well, gestured towards a table for them to sit.
Always the same table, she thought. Always with his back to the counter, facing the door. Always prepared, she noted. Frank summoned the man from behind the counter.
As usual she did not say anything. She observed him as he settled into his seat, ensuring that he had the best possible vantage point. The first few times he went through the routine she had thought it odd, possibly even bordering on being compulsive, but she now realised that it was a routine which was a necessity.
“Okay Frank, happy now?” she asked him.
“Yeah,” he said. “But I still like it outside,” he added, a slight smile on his face.
She smiled back. “I know Frank. I'm cold though.”
He waited as a cup of coffee was placed in front of him. She took another drink from the small bottle of water.
“Well, go on,” she said once the huge black man left the table and returned to the counter. She sat looking at him. He sipped the black coffee, eyes darting from left to right at what lay beyond the windows. He dropped his eyes.
“Yeah, the dream,” he said.
She prompted him. “You said that the dream was giving you nightmares. Keeping you awake.”
“Uh-hu,” he replied. “But last night, something different happened in my dream.”
Her heart skipped a beat. This was definitely new, she thought. Could she be making a difference? Was he making progress in working through the problem?
“What changed in last night's dream?” she asked him.
“I saw the man,” he said softly.
“You saw a man?”
“Not any man. 'The' man.”
“What's so unique about the man you saw?”
“He was coming for me. Coming to get me.” He paused, then added, “He was coming to take me back.”
She frowned. “Back where?”
“Where I belong.”
“Where you belong?”
“Yes. Where I come from. He said I must return.”
“Hang on,” she said. She rubbed her temples and thought for a minute. She wondered if she should pursue this line of thought, for he had never been this talkative about the dream. It was certainly a new path for her to take but should she follow him down it?
She continued. “Let me get this straight. You had a dream about a man who wants to capture you and-”
He interrupted her. “No. Not capture. Kill.”
She didn't understand. “He said that? In your dream?”
“What is it you don't understand? Am I speaking a foreign language or something?” he said angrily.
Oh Oh, she thought. This was not good. Antagonising him wouldn't solve anything. It would only make things worse. A whole lot worse.
She was about to say something when...
...CRACK...
One of the full-length windows suddenly changed from being crystal-clear to a network of spidery lines, radiating out from a neat round hole which had appeared in the centre. Another hole was punched next to the first and a bullet slammed into the counter behind Frank's head.
He reacted immediately the very second the window shattered and crashed to the floor from the impact of the bullets. He pushed her to the side, knocking her off the chair and she landed on the floor. He reached inside his jacket while diving to the floor at the same time. A quick body roll took him away from the table.
She was about to protest when...
BLAM. BLAM. BLAM.
Three shots crashed through the open space where the window had been, hitting their table, splinters of wood flashing through the air.
She lay on the floor out of sight, suddenly afraid for herself and for Frank. She glanced up and saw him crawling to the entrance door. He stayed low behind the door, gun in hand, trying to catch sight of the shooter.
“Clarence,” he said. “Get out the back door.”
The man behind the counter scrabbled on his hands and knees and scuttled through to the back room. The slam of a door indicated his exit.
“What do I do?” she whispered.
Chapter 4:
Frank turned into the alley, walked a few steps then stopped. He glanced over his shoulder and looked back out into the busy street. People passed the entrance and kept walking but nobody followed him. That was good.The far end of the alley was in shadow but Frank knew he was alone. Apart from several rats gnawing at a burst refuse sack near the rear of the Chinese restaurant, the alley was empty. Again, that was good.
He had to prepare before 'They' arrived as he could not afford to be careless this time. Once was enough in his book and if he was caught off-guard again, then he might not live to see another day.
He slowly walked up the alley, moving around the huge dumpster bins, avoiding the puddles of stagnant water. An air conditioning unit bolted to the wall above a barred window noisily attempted to pump fresh air into the building. Above his head on the fire escape, a cat crouched, eyes fixed on Frank, watching his progress. The cat’s fur raised and it hissed.
Frank stopped walking and looked up. He raised his hand, sighted along an outstretched index finger and pretended to fire at the feline. The cat hissed and arched its back then edged backwards. Frank smiled, one corner of his mouth lifted up, the other remained in place as the scar tissue impeded it.
The cat slinked slowly up the metal stairs, moving further away from the man in the alley. It had no concept of evil but knew something was not right and valued its survival more than curiosity so it got as far away as possible.
copyright (c) Neil Colquhoun 2009
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