Garden Rubbish

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Garden Rubbish

Post by Graham on Sun Apr 22, 2018 12:38 pm

This is the first draft. I tried to restrict myself to a scene so I wouldn't cram too much in or make confusing jumps. Has that worked? Well, obviously not completely since I couldn't stop myself continuing to the hospital scene. Comments please.

All I remembered initally was the pain, searing, crippling waves that enveloped me and became the entire universe. Nothing else mattered. Moving even a fraction of an inch set off new spasms that knocked my breath into a tiny pocket at the top of my lungs. Most of the rest of it has come back but some I’ve had to fill in from what DC McKay has told me.

You know the movie heroes who take a bullet and continue to fight. Bollocks to that. Just get me an ambulance and some morphine. There was no room for even that thought at the time. I had been walking up the road to Archie’s for our Friday morning chess. Neither of us sleep well so we meet shortly after dawn.

There was a white van with the back doors open. Two men came out of a pathway carrying a garden rubbish sack between them. That was slighly odd. Garden rubbish isn’t usually that heavy. They had just got to the van doors and were about to heave it in when something moved within the bag. My eyes jerked to the man on the left. He was unshaved, dressed in jeans and sweatshirt, and looked at me with no more interest than I had been a stray dog. The next few things happened so quickly I was rooted to the spot and could do nothing. He dropped his end of the bag and I heard a muffled grunt from within it. Simultaneously a gun appeared in his left hand. I heard the explosion and felt the blow to my shoulder. There was no pain at that point. Shock they tell me. It didn’t knock me over and I’m not sure how I came to be lying down but the last thing I was aware of was a shadow looming over me. The second shot should have killed me but something went wrong for him and right for me. Maybe he was distracted at the last second. It creased my skull. There was a lot of blood. The ambulance men thought I was dead but here I am, star witness in the body in the bin bag case, hooked up to bottles and drips in a private room the Western General, two armed police outside my door.

I go over the events endlessly. What could I have done, what should I have done? Hundreds of scenarios play themselves out usually featuring a resourceful and active version of myself that doesn’t exist, the movie version. The anger and the adrenaline aren’t good for me and the doctor has prescribed a sedative.

DC McKay visited again today. I think he’s newly promoted and seems uncomfortable trying to prompt my memory. I feel fatherly towards him and do my best. Today was the first time I was able to give him a description. The memory troubled me. The gunman’s look was almost vacant, no surprise. He could have been an office worker asked for a report. Something changed in the detective’s face when I told him and he left soon after which surprised me. He usually stayed on for a bit of friendly chat.

It’s late evening now and I’m feeling tired enough to put the bedside light out but sleep eludes me. I realise I need to pee and ring the buzzer. Ten minutes must have passed and still no nurse.

Graham
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Re: Garden Rubbish

Post by Sue Beasley on Tue Apr 24, 2018 8:21 pm

This is an interesting beginning and I'd like to know what's going to come of it. You asked about confusing jumps and I wasn't aware of any so that's worked fine. Just a thought, but do you really need the first paragraph?

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Re: Garden Rubbish

Post by Graham on Wed Apr 25, 2018 10:38 am

Thanks Sue. Yes, the second paragraph is actually a better opening. The bit about the pain is redundant in a small piece of writing but like all my darlings I am loath to let it go. I would still want to get the fact of his temporary amnesia in near the beginning. This is a busy week for me so I may not get round to a rewrite.

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