Writing, especially fiction writing, is
basically a pretty lonely business. Hours upon hours and days upon days of
solitude.
Derriere in the chair, fingers on the
keyboard and/or pen and paper in hand, solitude. With our only company the
characters who inadvertently pop into our head where they remain until we
convert the particulars of their existence to the printed word.
Once that printed word is created, it’s
time to bring in the troops.
In this case, my colleagues here at The
Roses of Prose.
For the third, and I promise final time on
these pages, I’m seeking input on the opening paragraphs of On The Make, Book 3
in my series, Brothers In Blue.
Hope you can stand it. Here goes.
On The Make - Chapter One
“Let us pray.”
Madison Clark dutifully lowered her head,
along with scores of others in the huge, impersonal auditorium. In her case,
more for show than reverence. Who held a funeral at a place like this? The
Greater Metro Conference and Convention Center. Then again, nothing about her
marriage to Joe, short as it was, could be construed as normal. Why should
anything change now that he was gone?
“Dear Lord, we now commit Joseph Eugene
Edward Ralls, this once earthly soul to your able and compassionate care.”
Dear Lord, please don’t let Joe run across
Dave in the hereafter. Her two husbands meeting face to face, Dave would
probably deck him.
“All mighty God, we ask that you grant
those of us left behind the guidance to understand and the patience to accept
Your decision.”
Pastor Gregg’s voice invaded her thoughts.
Keeping her head down, she shifted her hips more snuggly into the plush,
stadium style chair and sat straighter. Hard to believe it was only three short
years ago when she’d buried one husband, the love of her life and soulmate,
with their young sons, heart-broken and bewildered, on either side of her.
A mere thirty six months later, front and
center in the jam-packed amphitheater, she prepared to bury spouse number two.
Both sons on either side of her again.
“Bleep! Blip!”
Flashes of light
to the left caught her attention. Cameron had his cell on his lap. Typical
teen, both thumbs moved helter-skelter over the keyboard.
Irritation sparked
her third nerve to its absolute limit. She touched his arm and squeezed, fully
prepared with a stern look of reproach for when he glanced over at her. Which,
of course, he didn’t.
About ready to
scream, she squeezed harder.
Pushing one last
icon with his thumb, he slid the device into his pants pocket.
“In Your name we pray. Amen.”
“Amen.”
Madison’s murmured response joined the
rest of the chorus as all heads lifted as one.
Slight of build and balding, Pastor Gregg
leaned into the dais for support. “Joe was a great man of many aspects.” He may
have been done praying. He wasn’t done speaking. “Real estate mogul by profession.
Community leader and philanthropist by choice.”
An ill-concealed sigh whooshed out of
younger brother Dak. Madison angled a discreet glance to her right. Flounced
back in his seat, he sighed again. Giving him a gentle elbow nudge, she
followed up with a slight head shake when he immediately looked over.
“A man of many aspects in his personal
life as well.” As the good reverend went on, she made sure all three of them
paid close attention. “To Madison, a devoted husband. To Cameron and Dak, a
loving and benevolent father.”
“Beussst!” Beside her,
fourteen year old Cameron coughed into his elbow.
Keeping her gaze focused ahead, Madison
could have sworn the word bullshit had been thinly disguised by
his action.
“Bless you, son.” Pastor Gregg didn’t miss
a beat. Apparently he wasn’t quite as perceptive as Cameron’s mother.
Her son coughed softly a second time in
response.
Their pastor extended his arms, palms
upward. “Our sincerest and most heartfelt condolences go now to the grieving
little family before us.”
Thanks in advance for what I know will be
some very insightful and valuable advice.
My days to blog here are the 11th
and 23rd. For more about me and the stories I write, please visit my website
