ShopDreamUp AI ArtDreamUp
Deviation Actions
Literature Text
The gray sky remained on the brink of either a sunrise or sunset never coming to fruition. Purgatory was real, and Vincent was really dead. If the hole through his chest wasn't bleeding all over his white dress shirt, he'd think this was an elaborate prank. He had denied it for all of five minutes, but that bleeding hole was hard to refute.
Vincent stared as wide eyed as a kid seeing a half naked woman for the first time. The old world buildings [description] looked like a movie set and he felt the urge to search for hidden cameras.
"Hurry along, son." The elderly man was dressed from a period piece complete with an absurd gray whig and buckled shoes that clicked on the cobblestone road. He waddled, listing to the right on his ornate cane, as he checked his pocket watch for the third time.
"How did I get here?" The last thing Vincent recalled was bleeding out in a parking lot on the bad side of town. Then he woke on a cot with the old man shaking his shoulder.
"Same way we all get here." Sliding his watch back into his pocket, the man took a sharp left. "We're late."
Vincent hurried to keep pace and suppressed the million other questions he wanted to ask. He had to deal with one problem at a time, starting with the one right in front of him. He had no idea where they were hurrying to.
"Late for what?" Vincent asked.
"Orientation at the main office."
Orientation meant information. Answers.
#
The bustling main office [description] appeared chaotic at first glance. There must have been at least a hundred people crammed into the room. Papers changed hands with rapid speech. A receptionist and a dozen secretaries typed on computers that were on and yet not plugged in. A line of men and women, each holding a sheet of yellow paper, circled the reception desk.
Vincent turned, noting offices with nameplates on the closed doors. Large signs dangled from the ceiling. The nearest one read, "Theft" and farther down the hall Vincent saw another, "Murder".
"What is this place?"
"Main office." The elderly man craned his neck, searching the room with his eyes. "Ah, there they are."
"Who?"
"You're going to be a real handful. I can tell." The man led the way, using his cane to tap people and nudge them out of the way. "Come along, son."
Vincent bristled but stuck close lest he be trampled. "I have a name."
"Doesn't everyone?" the man called over his shoulder.
They made it to a relative clearing, allowing Vincent to breathe without bumping three different people. He heaved a deep breath and his wound oozed fresh blood. Instinctively he pressed his hand over his heart to stem the flow. It just made his hand wet and sticky. He grimaced.
A pair of granny loafers stepped into Vincent's field of vision. He looked up to find a dark haired woman in a sharp business suit arching a brow at them.
"Caldwell, you're late." Her narrowed glasses made her look more severe. "Again."
She looked like an evil librarian to Vincent. Behind her was a dozen other dead people, most covered in fresh blood. Vincent had to look away from the soldier clutching bloody chunks of his severed left arm. He refocused on the woman.
The elderly man, Caldwell, shrugged a shoulder. "Took me a while to find him."
"He's missed half the orientation and I don't do overtime."
Caldwell checked his pocket watch again. "Best you hurry up and finish then."
The evil librarian pursed her lips. "I'm going to report you to Bridges and we'll see what he has to say about this tardiness."
"Least of my worries, Perkins." Caldwell turned away and headed back through the crowd.
She narrowed her blue eyes on Vincent.
"Hi, I'm Vincent Reaves." He held out his hand for a shake.
She frowned at his bloody hand then looked him in the eye. As if talking to an errant child she said, "Join the group and try to pay attention."
"Yes, ma'am." He hadn't meant to say it, but he was reminded of his fifth grade teacher who despised children and took every opportunity to assign detention. He didn't want to know what detention was like in purgatory.
Cheeks flushing, he swiped his hand on his black slacks and stepped closer to the group.
Vincent stared as wide eyed as a kid seeing a half naked woman for the first time. The old world buildings [description] looked like a movie set and he felt the urge to search for hidden cameras.
"Hurry along, son." The elderly man was dressed from a period piece complete with an absurd gray whig and buckled shoes that clicked on the cobblestone road. He waddled, listing to the right on his ornate cane, as he checked his pocket watch for the third time.
"How did I get here?" The last thing Vincent recalled was bleeding out in a parking lot on the bad side of town. Then he woke on a cot with the old man shaking his shoulder.
"Same way we all get here." Sliding his watch back into his pocket, the man took a sharp left. "We're late."
Vincent hurried to keep pace and suppressed the million other questions he wanted to ask. He had to deal with one problem at a time, starting with the one right in front of him. He had no idea where they were hurrying to.
"Late for what?" Vincent asked.
"Orientation at the main office."
Orientation meant information. Answers.
#
The bustling main office [description] appeared chaotic at first glance. There must have been at least a hundred people crammed into the room. Papers changed hands with rapid speech. A receptionist and a dozen secretaries typed on computers that were on and yet not plugged in. A line of men and women, each holding a sheet of yellow paper, circled the reception desk.
Vincent turned, noting offices with nameplates on the closed doors. Large signs dangled from the ceiling. The nearest one read, "Theft" and farther down the hall Vincent saw another, "Murder".
"What is this place?"
"Main office." The elderly man craned his neck, searching the room with his eyes. "Ah, there they are."
"Who?"
"You're going to be a real handful. I can tell." The man led the way, using his cane to tap people and nudge them out of the way. "Come along, son."
Vincent bristled but stuck close lest he be trampled. "I have a name."
"Doesn't everyone?" the man called over his shoulder.
They made it to a relative clearing, allowing Vincent to breathe without bumping three different people. He heaved a deep breath and his wound oozed fresh blood. Instinctively he pressed his hand over his heart to stem the flow. It just made his hand wet and sticky. He grimaced.
A pair of granny loafers stepped into Vincent's field of vision. He looked up to find a dark haired woman in a sharp business suit arching a brow at them.
"Caldwell, you're late." Her narrowed glasses made her look more severe. "Again."
She looked like an evil librarian to Vincent. Behind her was a dozen other dead people, most covered in fresh blood. Vincent had to look away from the soldier clutching bloody chunks of his severed left arm. He refocused on the woman.
The elderly man, Caldwell, shrugged a shoulder. "Took me a while to find him."
"He's missed half the orientation and I don't do overtime."
Caldwell checked his pocket watch again. "Best you hurry up and finish then."
The evil librarian pursed her lips. "I'm going to report you to Bridges and we'll see what he has to say about this tardiness."
"Least of my worries, Perkins." Caldwell turned away and headed back through the crowd.
She narrowed her blue eyes on Vincent.
"Hi, I'm Vincent Reaves." He held out his hand for a shake.
She frowned at his bloody hand then looked him in the eye. As if talking to an errant child she said, "Join the group and try to pay attention."
"Yes, ma'am." He hadn't meant to say it, but he was reminded of his fifth grade teacher who despised children and took every opportunity to assign detention. He didn't want to know what detention was like in purgatory.
Cheeks flushing, he swiped his hand on his black slacks and stepped closer to the group.
First rough draft of Mondays are Liars opening scene. Really a small portion of the first chapter (which I'm wondering if I should reduce or expand into two chapters, but that's for another time).
I'm drawing a blank on location descriptions right now so I put in description reminders for later. You can pretend it says something specific and, er, descriptive. Vincent hasn't been described yet, but that's coming up shortly. If you see anything else that needs description, tell me where. It'd be a big help.
This will probably see heavy content edits by the time I'm finished. My beginnings always come out as rambling unfocused messes that take too long the first two or three times around.
Read the next part: [link]
Word Count: 741
I'm drawing a blank on location descriptions right now so I put in description reminders for later. You can pretend it says something specific and, er, descriptive. Vincent hasn't been described yet, but that's coming up shortly. If you see anything else that needs description, tell me where. It'd be a big help.
This will probably see heavy content edits by the time I'm finished. My beginnings always come out as rambling unfocused messes that take too long the first two or three times around.
Read the next part: [link]
Word Count: 741
© 2011 - 2024 thorns
Comments29
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
The gray sky remained on the brink of either a sunrise or sunset never coming to fruition.
I don't think you need the 'either' choice here, as it detracts from the image. I reckon you can pick one or the other and go with it.
...but that bleeding hole was hard to refute.
There's repetition here from the previous sentence that also uses 'hole' and 'bleeding'. I think you could use a different descriptor such as 'the gaping wound' or simply 'the wound'.
Vincent stared as wide eyed as a kid seeing a half naked woman for the first time.
I believe both 'wide-eyed' and 'half-naked' are hyphenated. I could be wrong, though.
...as he checked his pocket watch for the third time.
Is this the third time since Vincent noticed him? This seems excessive, I think you can probably lose the number and just have him checking his watch. Or put a notification there such as 'the third time since Vincent woke up.' or some such.
They made it to a relative clearing...
'relative clearing' sounds clunky. I know what you mean, but I think there's a better way of saying this.
---
I'm not sure if it was deliberate, but the old man seems to be playing much the same role as the rabbit in Alice in Wonderland. If it is deliberate, that's fine (I liked it), but some readers may see it as a cheap reference.
Otherwise, good intro!
I don't think you need the 'either' choice here, as it detracts from the image. I reckon you can pick one or the other and go with it.
...but that bleeding hole was hard to refute.
There's repetition here from the previous sentence that also uses 'hole' and 'bleeding'. I think you could use a different descriptor such as 'the gaping wound' or simply 'the wound'.
Vincent stared as wide eyed as a kid seeing a half naked woman for the first time.
I believe both 'wide-eyed' and 'half-naked' are hyphenated. I could be wrong, though.
...as he checked his pocket watch for the third time.
Is this the third time since Vincent noticed him? This seems excessive, I think you can probably lose the number and just have him checking his watch. Or put a notification there such as 'the third time since Vincent woke up.' or some such.
They made it to a relative clearing...
'relative clearing' sounds clunky. I know what you mean, but I think there's a better way of saying this.
---
I'm not sure if it was deliberate, but the old man seems to be playing much the same role as the rabbit in Alice in Wonderland. If it is deliberate, that's fine (I liked it), but some readers may see it as a cheap reference.
Otherwise, good intro!