Slice of Life #18 - Playing with Fiction Day 3

Wow! What a great writing community! Your questions have really helped my thinking process. My husband has been helpful too, because I've really been trying to think where exactly do I want to go with this and I'm not sure. He suggested that I do need to have an ending in mind and how Asimov writes his stories is that he has three strands. Each one is a protagonist or a group and they weave in and out of each other through out the plot line coming to some kind of resolve. Most people, he says, think of two opposing forces in a story and it can be somewhat flat, but when you have three chords you never know how it's going to end up. So I've decided I need to take some time to develop these chords (characters/groups), possibly with a character sketch??? We'll see...here I go.

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. 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?

Jack has always been a loyal dog, like dogs are, but he's had many masters through time. He's spent his days shepherding and retrieving, honing his skill for care taking. For now his home is 252 Pleasant Drive and the family that resides there thinks he's just theirs. They know Jack's penchant for roaming the neighborhood, but don't fully realize full responsibilities.

I didn't get as much written as I had hoped. I need to let things stew a bit!



                             

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