Chapter One

During the late hours of December, right before my mid-term, I was studying fervently for exactly five hours, hoping to achieve a rather high score and graduate as quickly as possible without escaping bereft of enough cash in my wallet to successfully thrive in such a busy environment. While quickly scanning over some notes I had left on the sides of Beowulf, a woman with thick glasses and a messy ponytail approached me. 

"Sir, the library will be closing in a couple of minutes." People soon began to save their documents and log off of their computers, gathering their belongings for the day and heading for the doors of the campus library. I did not look up until I had gathered the rest of the knowledge from my notes. I flipped open the cover of my man purse (I am aware that the correct term for such an absurd name is satchel, but my foolish friends have given it a namesake otherwise known as "The Man Purse") and placed Beowulf in between the silk confines. Pushing my chair in abruptly, the woman stared at me, curiously. She told me to "Have a good day, come back soon. Oh, and good luck on your final!" and I replied with a grunt rather gruffly to say the least. I pushed open the glass doors and started my trek out towards my car. 

Fumbling for the keys for nearly an astounding three minutes (It usually took a minute or so -- I have horrid memory, which is why I contribute a great deal of my time to studying fervently), I had realized that I had perhaps left the keys on the desk at which I was studying at. To my surprise, the lights had already begun to dim, and the middle-aged woman who most likely took care of the majority of the building locked her door on the way out and began walking away from the building and started up her car. Surprisingly, her vehicle was a beauty -- a polished BMW. As she began to drive off, I quickly chastised myself for forgetting to ask her to unlock the building. But I started to reassure myself that it was quite alright, due to the fact that a woman walking out to her car with a suspicious looking individual headed her way would look rather unpleasant to a bystander, as well as to the woman herself who most likely feared for her safety. So I collapsed against the foot of my beat down car, searching for any trace of cash within my wallet, but all I could find was a crumpled up paper containing the irrelevant number "430" and several pennies. Unfortunately, I had spent the majority of my five dollars that day on unhealthy snacks located near the edge of the library, munching away at Funyuns and sipping a Mountain Dew while peering over to an attractive woman's general area, trying not to make it obvious that my main goal was to be able to catch a glimpse or two of her bending over in that lovely beige skirt. So, as it would appear, I was stuck in freezing weather, hunched over against the side door of my car, hands over my head, trying to figure out a way I could get some quick cash to board the city bus in New York. But I was never a man of begging for cash, or searching feverishly for loose change like a homeless man, so I set off along the block of Fourth West Street, making my five miles seem not so bad by silently whistling to myself as I trudged through the snow. Besides, I needed the exercise. 

My "house" is just an occupied duplex, where two families reside. The one on the left:  filled with a bouncing newborn baby, a constantly agitated redneck father, a teenage son who refuses to leave the house and get some Vitamin D  soaked up in him, and a seemingly cheerful mother plagued with lines of stress painted across her worrisome face. I never associated with them, and we kept in our separate homes, despite the fact that it was, in all honesty, just one building separated by a brick wall that did nothing at all to keep out the ruckus from next door. 

I usually parked near the withering oak tree that refuses to die ever since I started paying rent, but since my lovely car was separated from its lovely owner,  the side of my lot appeared vacant. The father was sitting out in the front of the house in a green plastic chair, his brow soaked in sweat with a slight spot of what appeared to be a grease stain at the edge of his temple. The mother was wretchedly screaming in a room near the far back of the house, the baby harmonizing with her screams, ultimately creating a horrific chorus of human suffering. But aside from these things, it wasn't all that bad. 

I flipped on the television just as 60 Minutes came on, and started frying myself two eggs and a couple strips of bacon. I could perhaps craft a BLT from these ingredients, but I was quite tired from the stress I allowed my eyes to witness today. So, I resorted to a plate filled with grease and edible breakfast foods. I propped my feet up against the old tree stump I had kept in the middle of the house (It relatively showed no purpose whatsoever, except for the fact that it was a makeshift table, and I didn't have the time or the money to go out and buy another table). Twenty minutes into the ongoing eyewitness reports about a school shooting on the eastern side of New Braunfels, Texas, the words of Steve Kroft would leave me baffled for relatively the rest of my days to live. "The City University of New York library's chief leader, Diane Rose, was severely mutilated in the jugular and stabbed to death in the chest on her way out of the premises. Police reports claimed that it was just moments after closing time, and that she was most likely the only person on the lot. Any cameras will be taken down for  further evidence."

Michael Reeves could not sleep for the entirety of what remained of his night. He also failed his mid-term.

 

Reviews

[Blissful Sin]

This is nicely written! I actually love the way you write out the details of scene in your story. it gives you a full detailed description on how the story is taking place and it gives you information on the characters and interactions that will happen later on in the story.
marvelous!

-Bliss

[A. H. Pinley]

Interest is growing. Minor errors, but they're easily correctable.

[Zero_Edge88]

Satchels, man purse or even a fanny pack. (There I said something I used to wear and proudly even flaunt especially attending an all boy's school in my younger days! Oh the humanity and humiliation I feel these days when I would walk around with such contraption in my waist lol! Saifer's comment just made me realize the beauty I once had of wearing such unusual contraptions, whether or not I would wear them in the near future is totally something I wouldn't know to begin with! XD Lol!

"Oh the flinches, twitches and winces, are they not parlor tricks that play us! After what happens in the distraction it becomes something we are completely connected to deeply and conservatively! Distraction percentages higher than 100% truly crave those who seek what is behind us! There is distraction and just plain distraction! However are we not somewhat reminded that there may be an important part of someone else's life going on and we must somehow partake in to change those around us again.

Excellent piece, wonder what happens next after all that failure and distraction? I get distracted easily when it comes to tests for sure yet when discussion time comes I am somehow 100% paying attention! Strange but interesting for me over the years lol.

Thank you for the share! Have a beautiful rest of your night. Enjoy your rest of the weekend :)

[Saifer]

The first thought that occurred to me as I read was "PFFFFFF... Man Purse?!". Sorry, had to let it out.
Moving on, I enjoyed the protagonist of the story. (Mostly because I suffer from the same plague of absent mindedness). As I read further, I found myself enjoying the humdrum feel of the whole thing. The forgotten keys, the library lady, the redneck family and 60 minutes are all ingredients of a bland dish called "A day in the life of Average Joe" . Of course, that remained until my guard was lowered enough to be surprised at the initial turning point of the story. The murder of the library woman wasn't shocking, but the elements that came before it improved its presentation drastically. A good use of the element of surprise indeed.

Other than that, I think I spotted two errors. Not sure. One is "would look rather unpleasant to a by standard ". I think you mean "bystander?"

And the other isn't really a mistake. "I parked near the dying oak tree that refuses to die ever since I started paying rent." I think you should change "dying" to "withering" so the word die doesn't have to appear twice.

All in all, I'm really looking forward to the next chapter. Perhaps, something concerning "430"?

[nihilistictablelamp]

I think that would be a brilliant idea to bring something in with 430! I saw that in your story you had something to do with the number of some person in the morgue who was identified with a number. But, thank you!

[nihilistictablelamp]

Let me know if you catch any errors! Reviews are tremendously appreciated.