The task was given to look at a selection of portraits and choose one. Then start to list some questions as if you were interviewing them, followed by the answers from the character's point of view. Then take what you have and create 800-1000 words of narrative either short story or a snippet of a longer narrative.
A note on these introductory tasks, they do appear mundane and a little silly almost, and I was cynical about them to begin with. But through these different tasks you get to know ways of beginning a narrative such as this one in which a portrait has literally painted a thousand (ish) words. So here we go, this is a snippet from a longer narrative of me just playing with character development hence the title is just the guys name....
Standing in front of the mirror, my hands are moving slower than they have before. I wouldn't mind if I was at home because there would be nothing to get to, but while I'm here I notice how slowly I'm going. The pain is there, its there now and it's always there. I've always had pain in my life but the pain before came with success, I can see the scars as I shave the white whiskers away from my face, the ones I missed yesterday in the tired haze from stepping off the plane. The reminder of the pain brings me joy, but this new pain is too much.
Travelling through this country you get to places so much faster, it's all so much closer, I understand why she chose to come here and I'd be surprised if she didn't know everyone already. I do like it, sitting on the bus putting the odd shaped change, it's like proper money but feels so much more archaic.
They're all different, it isn't like being back home. It isn't a bad different but certainly not a good different. They smile different here, its strange, and they all smile the same. I don't have to say where I want to go when I get on the bus, I just put my money in and sit down. Flanked by a sea of smiles. False smiles, ones that don't quite belong. What are they hiding from me? I'm not sure being here is the right place to be. but that's what she wanted she wanted me here so I could see her moment in the spot light. I wonder if she was proud of me? She never saw me in my prime. Not when I was top class, I am proud. I am proud. She is graduating as a doctor. I'm just not sure why she chose England to do it though. There's a shaking in my leg, my phone is vibrating. Its that damned alarm again, they thought I was too stupid to be able to remember when to take my meds myself. I can barely even afford them it isn't like I'm going to miss out on them, its just a waste of money and i'm not stupid enough to throw all that away, not again, I've already lost enough.
I'm shuffling down the bus, the driver turns, there's no smile this time he just looks annoyed, I've seen annoyance, of course I have, but not for something as trivial as walking down the bus. I used to get looks like that all the time, for making the coffee too strong or leaving the bacon on too long. I did try for her, I still do but it didn't help though, I just need to hope that something does work because I don't think I can cope with what's happening to me, the thing I hid from her so long. I don't think I can live with it without living with her.
I'm finally home, it feels good to be home and seeing this place in a new light. It's brighter and clearer. It isn't the only thing that is clearer, the rest of my life has been planned out in front of me. I was listening to the talk the dean gave at Laura's graduation ceremony, he said to always know what lies ahead of you and to make sure you know the next step you want to take. So that's what I've done, after I slept on the plane, well after I was woken up. By the large gentleman, as would be the political correct way to describe the monolith hurling peanuts down his neck chased by whiskey and chocolate. Which of course was drooled down my jacket.
I listed what I wanted to do before I die. As simple as that, so I have 50 things to do. They're written on the back of the photo I have of my daughter and me, she looks so beautiful, and I look so proud. Ill and proud. At least I manged to show how proud I was, because I was proud and it changed my life. The first thing on my list is to get Judy back, because without her then none of this is worth it at all.
Tying my shoe laces, on the first day of the rest of my life I notice I'm doing something that I haven't done since I retired, I'm getting excited as I put on my shoes. It was when I felt the tension and now I felt it again, and I enjoyed it. I just need to start now. But where have I put my keys? Where did I turn out my pockets last night? This damn thing in my head blanks out moments of my life, that's why I want to do as much as I can, so I at least have something to be happy about when there's nothing left to cross off.
I know where the two most important things are, the first lock of my first daughter's hair, sealed in plastic in my wallet. Hair that has grown out, grown up and moved to somewhere better, somewhere that none of like to be reminded of. And the ring hanging from my neck that reminds me of what I have left behind.
So there we go hope you enjoyed please feel free to leave some comments below ANY criticism is awesome, Thanks guys
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