Slice of Life #17 - Playing with Fiction: Day 2

As morning came, no one roamed the streets of the tiny subdivision overlooking the lake, but someone was watching. The leaves populated the streets with dancing and leaping, they seemed not to have a care in the world, this was not so for the hidden resident of 252 Pleasant Drive(#1) You see, he took care of everyone, watched over everyone. You would think he would learn, but the desire to wander over came him and he ventured out through the garden, passed the mailboxes and down the hill. She was leaving and needed an escort. He sat with her until her bus came and then trotted home. He knew the man's eyes were on him, following him, daring him to leave the yard again. For now, he would lay low and wait. Eventually the man would have to go to work and that he did. Then Jack could mosey down to the water's edge and wait for the woman. It took her longer now, to walk from the house to the shore. So when he heard the door open he would run to greet her and walk with her to the benches, where the grass meets the sand. His days began and ended with her. At night the sun would inch down behind the horizon, the sky would turn from blue, to pink, to purple, and then to a deep, dark blue. As the colors darkened the sky, it's as if an eyelid came down to signal the closing of the day. The woman would feed the geese and pet him. He could feel energy flow to her, could sense her get stronger, see a satisfied smile come over her face as she stands to return to her haven. Jack would then continue on his way. Greeting all those who he encountered, except the man, the man with crossed arms, always with the crossed arms. He was to be avoided. There was no helping him, or was there?

(The red is the part I wrote yesterday - I'm trying to show my thinking a bit as I go. That's harder than I thought, but we'll see. It seemed to interrupt the story too much to put it right in the middle, so I'm just going to put footnoteish things at the end.)

(#1:  I was stuck here I asked myself a few questions…Who's watching? Should I use the line, "perched high like a lonely street light" No I envision an owl there. That doesn't fit the story. Why are they watching? Is the person watching antagonist or protagonist? Who's hiding? Why are they hiding? Is someone hiding? I tentatively answered a few of these questions in my head, but I'll have to see how they play out.)

                             

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