Enoch!story introduction
Continuing with the theme of writing my Creative Writing assignments on lj:
The assignment for today was to write a character-introduction scene, introducing both character and conflict. I decided to play with Enoch again. I'm fairly sure I haven't succeeded at introducing either character or conflict--the body-finding scene did better at that, I think--but, eh well. I've got to turn something in.
Snow was still falling when Enoch left the house, a feathery light dusting drifting down from the heavy grey sky to round out the heaps and hollows of the snow that already lay drifted against fence posts and tree-trunks. When he slammed the door, a little ghost of snow shook itself off the eaves and plunged its cold fingers down the back of his neck. He snarled slightly and flicked up the collar of his battered olive-green Army jacket, not that it did much good. The jacket was too big on his thin frame, too old, too tired; the collar flopped down again almost as soon as he’d straightened it.
He stood for a moment on the edge of the porch, staring at the clean-cut curve of the lane as it plunged through the drifts and turned sharply away from the wood before it angled up to meet the county road. Somewhere, far beyond that road that disappeared in the gentle shroud of snow, there were wire fences and long corridors and armed guards; out there, there were memories that would only fade when the scars did, and those scars were cut far too deeply to ever heal.
His lips creased into a thin line, and he shoved a calloused, blunt-fingered hand through his shaggy brown hair, shaking off the snow that had already begun to dust his head. After a moment, he whistled.
The dog came racing around the corner of the house, plunging through the snowdrifts with joyful abandon. He must have been sleeping in his kennel; his grey-and-white fur was still warm and clean of snow, though when he leapt up to plant his paws on Enoch’s chest and lick the man’s face, his paws left huge snowy prints on the green Army jacket. Enoch had to laugh a little, and he rubbed the husky’s ears roughly before he pushed him away. “How ‘bout a walk, Hazard?” he asked softly. “Get away for a bit?”
Hazard barked and leapt off the porch; for a moment he floundered in the drifted snow before he sprang free, showering snow like a dolphin leaping up in a diamond sparkle of water. Enoch followed more slowly, shoving his hands into his coat pockets as he took the two steps down from the porch to the ground. He would come back in a while, when his temper had cooled and his mother’s crying and his sister’s shouting had worn themselves out. When he’d frozen the memories in a crystal of ice and snow, and could bear not to be alone again.
(Enoch's character is evolving as I write; somehow he's become a ducker-outer. Or a slitherer-outer, as Sophie would probably say. Which makes it interesting when he's faced with the problem of trying to deal with this murder on his hands... Though I'm still trying to decide if he actually committed the crime for which he was sent to prison. I think not. But that he probably stayed there for more than a few months...perhaps he's on parole now?)
Comments/criticism, please?
-Ki
The assignment for today was to write a character-introduction scene, introducing both character and conflict. I decided to play with Enoch again. I'm fairly sure I haven't succeeded at introducing either character or conflict--the body-finding scene did better at that, I think--but, eh well. I've got to turn something in.
Snow was still falling when Enoch left the house, a feathery light dusting drifting down from the heavy grey sky to round out the heaps and hollows of the snow that already lay drifted against fence posts and tree-trunks. When he slammed the door, a little ghost of snow shook itself off the eaves and plunged its cold fingers down the back of his neck. He snarled slightly and flicked up the collar of his battered olive-green Army jacket, not that it did much good. The jacket was too big on his thin frame, too old, too tired; the collar flopped down again almost as soon as he’d straightened it.
He stood for a moment on the edge of the porch, staring at the clean-cut curve of the lane as it plunged through the drifts and turned sharply away from the wood before it angled up to meet the county road. Somewhere, far beyond that road that disappeared in the gentle shroud of snow, there were wire fences and long corridors and armed guards; out there, there were memories that would only fade when the scars did, and those scars were cut far too deeply to ever heal.
His lips creased into a thin line, and he shoved a calloused, blunt-fingered hand through his shaggy brown hair, shaking off the snow that had already begun to dust his head. After a moment, he whistled.
The dog came racing around the corner of the house, plunging through the snowdrifts with joyful abandon. He must have been sleeping in his kennel; his grey-and-white fur was still warm and clean of snow, though when he leapt up to plant his paws on Enoch’s chest and lick the man’s face, his paws left huge snowy prints on the green Army jacket. Enoch had to laugh a little, and he rubbed the husky’s ears roughly before he pushed him away. “How ‘bout a walk, Hazard?” he asked softly. “Get away for a bit?”
Hazard barked and leapt off the porch; for a moment he floundered in the drifted snow before he sprang free, showering snow like a dolphin leaping up in a diamond sparkle of water. Enoch followed more slowly, shoving his hands into his coat pockets as he took the two steps down from the porch to the ground. He would come back in a while, when his temper had cooled and his mother’s crying and his sister’s shouting had worn themselves out. When he’d frozen the memories in a crystal of ice and snow, and could bear not to be alone again.
(Enoch's character is evolving as I write; somehow he's become a ducker-outer. Or a slitherer-outer, as Sophie would probably say. Which makes it interesting when he's faced with the problem of trying to deal with this murder on his hands... Though I'm still trying to decide if he actually committed the crime for which he was sent to prison. I think not. But that he probably stayed there for more than a few months...perhaps he's on parole now?)
Comments/criticism, please?
-Ki