Monday, November 12, 2007

Freewrite #1

Freewrite #1

Splash! Splash!

Splash Splash!

It was raining. And it was windy. And those were puddles. Puddles make noise. And he didn't want to make noise.

For man-on-the-run Jack Fletcher, this fit right in with his day. It wasn't bad enough that he was being hunted by some deranged killer. A man with blood on his hands. Quite literally.

It had been almost fifteen minutes, just past midnight, since the would-be assassin with the brown fedora had cornered him in a dark alley behind Jim's Pizza and Eatery.

Why was he chasing him? What had he done now?

This day made no sense. Neither did the white jumpsuit he was wearing or the fact that he was only wearing white socks.

Why can't I remember anything, thought Jack.

Pulling a memory over two weeks old from his brain was like wrestling a pit-bull from a raw, sirloin steak.

Forget it. 'Can't worry about that now. Stay focused Jack and we'll see if we can't keep you alive another day.

Jack rounded a blind corner. A perfect place to get the upper-hand.

Wait for it Jack. Wait for it.

Splash! Splash!

Here he comes. One more second.

A rounded head wearing a brown fedora peaked its head out of the corner.


Knuckled flesh struck a glass jaw. A left hook connected with the man's nose. The fedora went flying.

The man hit the ground. Out cold. But that didn't stop the blood from gushing out of the assassin's broken nose.

Jack followed the blood as it mixed with rainwater and flowed downhill, across the street.

Jack stood, bewildered.

Did I just do that?

The man's eyelids cracked open. His mouth followed close behind.

“Ahhhhhh!” screamed the man. Though whether it was a cry of pain or a cry of anger, Jack didn't know.

Tears began to flow down the man's face. His wails grew louder.

No, thought Jack, this is definitely not the sound of anger This man is in pain! Well, serves him right for trying to kill me.

Jack kneeled down to get a closer look at the man who could have been his end. Who would dare try to kill him? Who had the guts? Didn't this guy know who he was?

I wish he did. At least then I might be able to get some answers.

Jack stood still for a second and looked at the man directly in the eyes, and recoiled.

This isn't him! This isn't the same person!

Jack looked over at where the fedora had landed, except it wasn't a fedora. It was a New York Yankees baseball cap.

What is going on? thought Jack.

No comments: