Ah, well. There’s always a next time :). Since I’m thinking of trying for the Baker’s Dozen auction (scheduled for November) I have added incentive to finally finish this WIP.
Meanwhile, I’m going to post a bit more of my trunker down below. Incidentally, for all my fellow bloggers out there, I’m curious-when you post work, how much do you post? I’m never sure where my cut-off point should be, so any input is much appreciated!
I’m also curious as to what makes you decide to trunk a novel. I know what finally did it for me (the secret shall be revealed in due course!) but everyone’s got different reasons. Feel free to post in the comments section!
And now…drumroll…the continuation of where I left off.
“The aisles of the convenience store are brightly lit with overhead fluorescent bulbs. Mirrors are tucked into recesses of the ceiling at the end of each row; these, along with a bank of cameras placed at the store’s entrance, near the register, and along the walls, allow the cashier to see who’s doing what. When he does catch someone stealing, it’s mostly just little stuff; high schoolers grabbing armfuls of Hostess cakes and shoving them under their jackets, say, or snitching bottles of beer out of the cooler. Freaking dull, really.
He’s a young guy, early twenties, with olive skin and dark hair and the puppyish cheeks of a baby or young child. Fed on a steady diet of comic books, TV crime shows and the violent video games that occupy him during the slow times, he knows exactly what to do if someone comes in to to do something big; rob the register, say. There’s a rifle behind the counter, fully loaded; all he has to do is release the safety to level a bullet into the face or chest of the perp. It’s fantasies like this that keep him occupied during the night shifts when there are no customers and the darkness outside shifts in quality from dullness to outright oppressiveness. The shooting, and the aftermath. Media coverage, maybe a medal, himself as the hero, a spot on the morning news. “Tell us what went through your mind when he…” No, make it more than one. “When they came in. Were you scared?”
“Well, maybe a little. But I knew what I had to do. There were hostages, you know?”
“Hostages, really? It must have been terrifying. Did any of the families contact you after you saved them?”
“Well…there was this one girl…we’re going out next Saturday…”