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Novel Treatments / City of Concrete
She watched as he brought his car to a stop beside the curb, on a paved street, surrounded by concrete. On one side, there was a large, brown warehouse. Most of the windows were cracked and broken; some were missing completely. On the other side of the street was an empty lot surrounded by a chain link fence. It was obvious that this lot had been a place to call home for many who didn’t have a warm bed of their own. There was just enough of the fence that had been cut and lifted from its place tucked in the ground. If you looked inside, you could see the cardboard boxes and old newspapers used in the attempt to keep its occupants warm from the biting November cold.
Why did he stop here and how did she know that he would? Just beside the empty lot was a run down multi-story building. The concrete façade was faded and cracked. At the entrance door was a dimly lit sign for “Frankie’s Discount Furniture.” She stood covered in the darkness beside the building and stared. He turned on the interior light of the car. It cast a sickly green glow. It was easier to make out his shape now. She saw his hands moving. Was he talking on the phone? She was so familiar with the way he used his hands when he spoke. There wasn’t a drop of Mediterranean blood in him but he couldn’t open his mouth without one, if not both of his hands moving, synchronized to every syllable.
She knew those hands so well. She watched as they swept over paper creating award-winning structures containing spectacular architectural detail with such ease and grace. In the beginning, she remembered how he caressed her gently, stroking and possessing every inch of her body. The way they made her scream out in passion and absolute love. She remembered how her hand fit just so in his.
Although now his hands possessed her in a different way. When his anger erupted, there was no escaping his brutality. The hands that created architectural masterpieces could choreograph acts of violence that would inflict hidden bruises on her body so that no one else could see them.
She moved now out of the safeness of darkness. Her footsteps light on concrete sidewalks. Black rubber soled shoes so as not to make any noise. Black jeans, sweater and knee length coat wrapped her slight figure in warmth. She limped off the sidewalk and onto the street. Her heart was beating rapidly and her breath came in short, uneven sounds. Each step brought her closer until she stood just a few feet from the rear of the car.
She noticed the long scratch that started at the Lincoln Navigator emblem and reached around the side panel out of her sight. Her fault, she had been told. Why bring the car into the city when there was perfectly good public transportation? He couldn’t possess nice things in his life because she was constantly ruining everything with her carelessness.
She slowly moved her eyes up now and watched. Through the dim light of the car, she could see his brown hair kept so perfectly short with haircuts every three weeks. There was a cowlick at the back of his head that swirled in a clockwise motion. The bottom of his hair just touched the collar of his ever present gray pinstriped suit. Inside her head her voice screamed, “Don’t look in the rearview mirror.” And then he stopped moving. His hands settled somewhere out of her sight. Did he sense her presence? He always did. It fascinated and annoyed her how his eyes, the color of fresh celery, would be looking at the doorway before she even entered no matter how quiet she was. She knew it was time.
Her leather-gloved hand reached behind her and found what she was looking for tucked in the waist of her jeans. Slowly her right hand brought the gun around where her left hand clasped the bottom. She raised it and took aim at that ridiculous swirl in the back of his head. She savored the weight of the gun and the feeling of power for one last moment and then pulled the trigger. The shot spewed a shower of sparks in the darkness from the muzzle. The force cast her hands straight up in the air as if she were surrendering. It jerked her body back but she caught her balance before she went down onto the concrete.
As she walked around the driver’s side of the car, she saw death. His head had been thrown forward and the windshield was sprayed an opaque red with his blood. She could see the left side of his emotionless face as it came to rest on the steering wheel. She stared at his lifeless body for what felt like hours. What struck her to be so strange was the silence. She was in the middle of a busy city and there was no noise. Had the sound of the gun made her deaf? Is this the price she would pay; to live in silence for the rest of her life?
But then she heard it. It was very faint and muffled at first. Then the sound became louder and louder. Had someone’s car alarm been set off? Then that high-pitched screeching moved closer. She knew it wasn’t a car alarm. Instinctively, she dropped the gun and heard it slam against concrete and watched as it bounced just underneath the driver’s side door. Where was the noise coming from? She had to run; to escape. Wamp, wamp, wamp. Louder and louder. She pivoted away from the car, away from him, and started running back to the safeness the darkness provided. If she could make it back to her alley she knew so well, she would disappear. No one would find her. And then she felt it. The grip was strong and powerful as it grabbed her shoulder and stopped her from talking another step. She tried to fight, but gave up because it greatly out powered her. Surrounded on every side by concrete; there was no place to run, even if she could break free from her capture. And still that horrible noise. She did the only thing she could, she silently prayed to God to spare her from this hell as she had done so many times before
“Jess, hey honey, Jess, wake up,” her husband urged from his side of the bed. Slowly her eyes opened and she turned from her side onto her back. Michael stared down at her with those knowing green eyes and took his hand off her shoulder.
“Wow, you were really out of it. The alarm didn’t even wake you,” he said as he leaned down and kissed her possessively on the lips. Jess couldn’t find her voice; she just nodded her head and kept staring. ”I’ve got the shower first,” he said as he jumped out of their bed.
She watched his naked back as it retreated out of the bedroom toward the bathroom. Long legs, slim torso, powerful shoulders. The last thing she saw as the bathroom door closed behind him was the clock-wise swirl at the back of his head.
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77sunset reviewed Version 1 -
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This 123 word review has not been unlocked.
KK reviewed Version 1 -
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Confused, but intrigued.
First I’m assuming that you’re making the dream sequence seem like reality. However, that is a very lucid dream sequence, maybe make a little less so to give the reader a hint.
The shooting part, I’m not quite sure how to address. In reality I doubt that the recoil for a hand gun would be so strong. But since it’s a dream…I don’t know, just keep it in mind.
Also good job with using the dream as a device to give the reader needed information. However, why does she know the alley? Or is that just part of the dream?
As for battered women syndrom (spelling?) I’d suggest reading up on it. It’s a tricky subject, don’t let you’re character become a cliche. Although presently I don’t think that’s going to be a problem. Keep writing, I want to see how this turns out!
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tarleisio reviewed Version 1 -
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This was very, very good. I like the way the tension builds in the story, all those layers of untold history underneath, the slight sadistic varnish that glosses the relationship between these two people.
But best of all, I liked the ending, and how it blew everything wide open, in a manner of speaking…;-)
Loads of possibilities here – I can’t wait to see where you take this.
stevierey1 reviewed Version 1 -
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Very engaging, well written, good sentence structure, vivid, and an excellent twist at the end. Very enjoyable!
Best,
Stevie Rey
TimeTrader reviewed Version 1 -
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Great idea. The first sentence seemed too long andcould be broken up.
The significance of the vacant lot is not apparent. It’s the first thing you decribe so as a reader I beliee it is important.
The rythmn is there but it is not as smooth as it could be. I like the story so far.
Write on!
prettyladykatt reviewed Version 1 -
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This was an interesting read. I didn’t expect it to be only a dream. Some things that you could work on is telling less and showing more.
You have a lot of detail though, which is good and allowed me to understand the main character better.
Good job. And bring out the second chapter I could like to see how this story developes.
Vijnana reviewed Version 1 -
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You should always name your characters; at least your protagonist.
You did give us reason to sympathize with her.
You would not want to start a novel with a dream sequence. Main action should always be in the present of the book. Better to spend a bit of time showing these characters’ lives.
As is, we have no basis for knowing whether he really deserves what she might be wishing for him.
One approach might be to show their relationship by having one scene from her point of view, then one from his. Make the reader see how both think they are right in their own way. Of course there are many other ways conflict can arise to create tension in the reader. This piece lacks tension because we do not know the characters yet, have, so to speak, “no dog in this fight.”
Keep practicing.
KimRoach reviewed Version 1 -
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Once again, this was terrific. Your detail is excelent. This draws the reader in right away. The descriptions are quite gripping. The tension and passion of preparing mentally to kill someone she cares about and then going through with was there.
This is only personal opinion, but at the end I would have liked her say something like I was having a good dream, when he woke her up. The contrast would be a nice way of showing the dream is what is on her mind and not pure fantasy.
I found this one grammar issue, besides that it is pretty solid.
stopped her from talking another step .. talking should taking.
November 27, 2006
Deleted User
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I’d consider this a finished, polished piece of writing. It kept my interest thoughout. At no time before the actual reveal did I think this was a dream sequence so kudos for that. Your writing is clear and tight which I can appreciate the effort it takes to get there. For example this bit;
She slowly moved her eyes up now and watched. Through the dim light of the car, she could see his brown hair kept so perfectly short with haircuts every three weeks. There was a cowlick at the back of his head that swirled in a clockwise motion. The bottom of his hair just touched the collar of his ever present gray pinstriped suit.
Is all of those things, well worded, descriptive yet tight.
Overall very well done and good luck on getting it published.
hostile_alien reviewed Version 1 -
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The writing is very crisp and clear and drew me in. I liked the descriptions you used like “the color of fresh celery”. I like the ambiguity of the ending…it’s a dream but how much of it? You indicate that her husband really is possessive and aggressive. Will she actually follow through and kill him? Will he end up killing her? I also like it because it reflects the true nature of domestic violence with the battered left stuck and fearful and not knowing what to do. Very good job!
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