Short Story 1 - (12) Editing, and a change in the plot - 3

-
Time to look at Annalisa's story.  I'm not sure if I want to change much about her, but now we have a tenuous connection between her and Jack, maybe we can explore this a little further.

It will certainly change the dynamic between them and reflect on whether or not she lets him go or not.

But the story would benefit more from relating how the disaster happened, and the fact the relationship between Jerry and Annalisa had run its course.

There will still be that basic fear of being left alone with the shopkeeper and the consequences, which she believes will have a very bad result.

The rewrite:


Annalisa had known the moment she had agreed, or rather having been coerced to agree, to go on this foolhardy mission, it would not be the 'piece of cake' he said it would be.

It was the culmination of a series of events the brought her to the revelation that is was not her he loved but her money.

And the fact the 'recreational' use of drugs was far more serious and far more costly than she had realized.  Until her parents cut off both her access to her bank account and credit card.

Jerry had gone quite literally 'apeshit' when he found out, and the full extent of what was a 'recreational use' of drugs became clear.  In the first stages of withdrawal, he was nothing like the boy she used to know.

But, she would go along with him this once and that would be an end to it.  Her funding his habit, their relationship, though she chose not to tell him at the exact moment because he was very threatening, in fact, it was going to be the end of everything to do with him.

As they left the apartment for the last time, an eerie calm had come over him, and he had reverted to the Jerry she used to know.  There were flashes of the old Jerry from time to time, but the ever-increasing use of drugs had changed him, changed his personality, and now there was very little left.

She thought about staying, trying to bring him back, get him to go to a rehabilitation center, admit he had a problem.

Stepping out of the building into the cold night air brought her back to her senses.  There was no helping him, now or ever.

It was nearly time, a few minutes before the shop closed, the time, Jerry said, when the shopkeepers 'other' customers arrived.

She hoped there were no other customers.

The plan was simple.  Jerry would show the money, a twenty dollar note wrapped around a wad of blank paper, the shopkeeper would get the bag, he would give the wad, take the drugs and they'd run, hoping he wouldn't discover the truth before escaping out the front door.

And if he did, she asked.

He had it covered.

She didn't like the sound of that statement or the savagery with which it was delivered.  More and more this was sounding like a suicide mission.

Jerry patted her on the shoulder.  It was time.

She looked at her watch, 11:25 pm.

From across the road, she had watched the shopkeeper going through the motions of closing the store, bring in the sidewalk displays, wiping the counter, sweeping the floor.  As they crossed the road she could see him standing behind the counter, waiting, watching the clock tick inexorably towards 11:30.

Closing time.

She preceded Jerry into the shop.  His idea was that seeing her would create a distraction.  Jerry had been right, the shopkeeper smiled when he saw her,  frowned when he saw Jerry.  He knew the moment he saw Jerry. he'd know exactly what he was there for.

© Charles Heath 2016-2018

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Being inspired, maybe – 57

-
Image
A picture paints ... well, as many words as you like.  For instance: And, then, the words: I had a lot to think about. It was one of the main reasons why I chose a relatively remote resort to get away from the pressures and distractions of everyday life. You see, I just got made redundant from a job that I thought was mine for life, and with it came a litany of platitudes and half-truths and downright lies from a hatchet man, rather than the person who should have faced me. The point is, the owner of the company I worked for was someone I had respected.  We had started out together, not as partners, but as close to having a partnership as was possible. My only problem at the time was I didn't have the money to put up, so we had an agreement. An agreement, it appears, that was not worth anything because it was not in writing.  It had been a verbal agreement on a handshake, at a time when that meant something. Now, apparently, it didn't. There was of
Read more

I've always wanted to go on a Treasure Hunt - Part 32

-
Here’s the thing... Every time I close my eyes, I see something different. I’d like to think the cinema of my dreams is playing a double feature but it’s a bit like a comedy cartoon night on Fox. But these dreams are nothing to laugh about. Once again there's a new installment of an old feature, and we’re back on the treasure hunt. The scene was set. Boggs and I had been browbeaten, and he had, willingly he said, given up the real map.  I was beginning to think Boggs had no idea what the real map was, there were so many different variations of it. Vince was on the warpath. Nadia was muddying the waters. The Benderby’s were being their usual menacing selves. A man had been killed and finished up being on Rico’s boat, and Rico had been arrested.  Had Benderby put it there, or was Rico the perpetrator?     Rico wanted the map for the Benderby’s but hadn’t got it from Boggs, which given how menacing he was, should have been a no brainer. Unless he really cared ab
Read more

Being Inspired, maybe - 70

-
Image
A picture paints ... well, as many words as you like.  For instance: And, then, the words: I'd heard about the Worthington gardens, everyone had, they'd been featured in the press, magazines and on television.  I never thought I'd get to personally see them, in this lifetime or any other, but there i was, standing in the threshold of a whole new world. But, you ask, how did I get here? That is a story in itself, so you will have to bear with me while I give you some background, and maybe then you will understand what I did not. It was a bad week at the office. Literally. I'd been at loggerheads with both my father, and my older brother, Joseph Taylor Jr., the heir apparent, and lost. And it was a bad loss, one that was going to cost 200 jobs and get a lot of bad press.  I had tried my hardest, painstakingly crunched the numbers to show we could make a profit, but enough to keep it going. Apparently, that didn't matter, the heir apparen
Read more