I had a ten-minute time limit to write something using the Freewriting style and present it to the evening’s writers critique group, and this is what I cooked up that evening.
Mr. Carrington sat in his recliner and stared into the fireplace, washing down his regrets and shortcomings with a bottle of the hardest scotch whiskey on the shelves. He held a picture of he and his wife, taken on their first date at a carnival, sometime in the year nineteen seventy-two.
The ringing of the doorbell interrupted his attempt of finishing the last bit of whiskey without vomiting. He sat the bottle next to his seat and dragged his feet toward the front door. After opening the door, he noticed a tall black fellow, dressed in a nice suit and tie with briefcase in hand.
“Mr. Carrington?” He asked politely, followed by a look of concern, concealed by a friendly smile that meant nothing.
Carrington never seen the man before but knew exactly why he was looking for him. Instead of answering, he walked away from the front door and returned to his seat. The black male took time to think of alternative ways to gain the old man’s attention, but nothing was going to get Mr. Carrington out of that chair, unless it was his wife at that door.
The black male entered the home and closed the door behind him. He sat in the loveseat next to the recliner and kept an eye on the old man as he finished the remaining swig of whiskey. Without turning to look at his guest, he spoke with his eyes staring deep into the fire once again.
“My wife and i used to sit there.” He said in a raspy drunken tone. The suited man began to stand, not wanting to be disrespecting in any way, but Carrington raised his hand, signaling that it was alright for him to remain seated.
“We would sit there and watch the beautiful flames from that fireplace there, care free with no interest in what was going on out there in the world. Our world was in here, and we made it enjoyable and comfortable for each other. There was nothing out there that could draw me away from her and the life that we made together.” Mr. Carrington spoke emotionally as his hand trembled on the arm of the recliner. The suited man notice this as Carrington continued on…
“I’ve done some terrible things in the past that i am ashamed of, things that you couldn’t imagine. I was young, ignorant and full of so much hate.” Mr. Carrington took another look at the empty whiskey bottle, knowing that the content has been consumed, but wishing that there was at least a sip left.
“Mr. Carrington, Um…” The suited man intended his palm for a handshake. “My name is Gerard Cole…” he introduced himself in a pleasant tone of voice with that salesman-like smile, but Carrington did not shake his hand, nor did he care to hear what he had to offer, if he was offering something.
“Yeah, yeah.” Carrington uttered with a grunt, like the careless drunk that he is. “Listen Mr. Cole, you seem like a nice kid. I mean, you got your fancy little suit on, your Colgate smile, and your nappy hair cut all short and greased up. Now i can only think of one reason why a boy like you would be knocking at my door… You want to kill me.” Continue Reading