I am currently writing my first book, which is written from the perspective of one character. It is a daily monologue, where he describes the events, happenings, from his own tortured perspective.
Many strange things unfold, but here is a draft extract (work in progress), where the main character has had his car, with all his possessions in, stolen by a hitchhiker. He is currently holed up in a motel, mulling over the days events.
I have chosen this extract as it does not give too much of the storyline away. There are lots of twists and turns, but hopefully you get an idea.
Extract from: Saturday 14th April (Chapter 13)
Thud. Thud. Thud. It continues. I can not shake this knock. The endless beat within, hammering home the enormity of events. My arms still quake, my lip vibrates, with the aftershock. The tremors of terrors, that again shook my block off, today. Is this just me? Is this how life will be? I still cling to some hope, like the key to salvation. All rusty and worn down. But able to unlock something, one day. Strung around my neck, beating against my chest. Thud. Thud. Thud.
I must cling to the positives, this will calm my beast. And remove the beat, thats taken over. There is air, crisp fresh, and full, wafting every which way. There is safety, for now. Four shell green walls, with curtains made of drudgery, keep everything in, and all else out. I am inside with the bleak. Eyes closed, facing the skies. This bed is for animals. It takes comfort away. I have had more pleasant beatings. But it has no teeth. Or claws. I must be grateful, for that. These are all that I have, now. I am alone with myself. And this fluorescent show room, where killers of humanity roar by. Chucking out bottles, to choke the innocent. It sickens me. Such reckless disregard for your fellow man.
Thats enough. It is impossible, to be positive. He took this from me too. I have nothing, but bones, flesh, and some trampled fabric to hide my shame. Lost more than I would ever recover, or repair. Not lost. My mistake. These shakes have had effects. I, so mindful and aware, would never be so careless. I have not lost, in a lifetime. An impossibility. Thieves have been. This I cannot protect from, in every which way. There are so many plays, disguises, and slights, to dumfound even the wisest of sage. I am a noble gent, galloping through life, upon pure white stallions. With highwaymen scattered in the foliage. Their beady eyes transfixed on my owns, licking their lips with lust.
I will keep refining, and editing, and maybe post more as I go on. I welcome any comments or thoughts, but please remember, it is a work in progress, with a-lot of tweaking needed.
Hoping to have the full book ready by the end of the year.