The exercise:
Write four lines of prose about: the salesman.
It was miserable and rainy for most of the day; the sun did finally make an appearance just before dinner. Much too late to do anything in the garden, but I did manage to get some more plants potted up in the greenhouse while the clouds did their thing.
The first farmers market of the year is tomorrow morning but we're taking a pass in order to get more work done. Hopefully that will lead to us having more things ready to sell next weekend.
Mine:
Barb watched through her living room window as the salesman approached her porch, a black briefcase in one hand and the makings of a sleazeball smile on his lips. She found it difficult to remain hidden by the thick mauve curtains, she was so excited to finally test out her new security system.
A squeal of delight was already forming on her tongue as the man aimed a long, steady finger at her doorbell.
4 comments:
It seems a shame to miss the first market, but coming to it with your a-game (a-crop?) is definitely a good idea, so let's hope that people are anxiously looking for you at the first and delighted to find you again at the second.
Heh, you're mixing dark and silly a little in this one, it almost reads like something I'd have written! I admire your salesman, he's clearly got a lot of customers like Barb!
The salesman
"I'd like to buy a car," I said. Perhaps I was naïve, I'd never done this before and I had no clue what was on offer or how expensive any of it might be. The salesman seemed nice though, a broad smile spread across his face and his put his arm familiarly around my shoulders.
"I've got just the thing," he said, "you do like doors, don't you?"
Marc- A veteran of the door-to-door sales business then, huh? Poor woman!
I predict some very dark non-nonsensical stories in the future. Your NaNoWriMo entry ought to be incredibly interesting.
I leave in 2 weeks and return about a month later. It's Costa Rica's rainy season.
-------
Rose, her deep brown curls falling in front of her face, sat stirring her morning coffee at the last table in the row. I plopped down across from her, anxious to hear how her date went with the extremely hot salesman from Home Depot.
She didn’t wait for me to ask a question before she said, “You know how we watch TV and some of the characters think that if they pay for dinner the person they are with owes them a good time? Well, that guy could have been one of them.”
He arrived in the dark of night, the snow crunching beneith his feet as he made his way down the narrow lane of deserted shops and sleepy little cottage houses. Awake at this late hour I watched his passing from the attic window, and was intregued to see him stop in front of the abandoned book store.
He turned into the doorway and stood, feeling around for the metal handle, his frame taking up every inch of the space between the jam. "DRATS! LOCKED! His snake like voiced hissed the words into the night air.
A soft blue light emanated from Milo Macabres left hand illuminating his pasty white skin and sparkling sapphire eyes for mere moments before I heard the gentle click of the lock and the door swung inward. The book seller had returned.
**
More on this at another time.
Greg - thanks, I could see you writing something like that too :)
Hoo boy, sounds like your narrator might be in store for a five door model!
Mousther - hah, yeah that could be an interesting challenge. Though likely I'll be skipping NaNo again this year.
Costa Rica! That's awesome! I hope you have an amazing time :)
Ugh, I suppose people like that really do exist, but I prefer to think they don't.
Krystin - oh, yes please! Definitely more. I will be waiting :)
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