Here’s an excerpt from the new story I’m working on, called “Some Old Ideas.” Written from the perspective of the main character, Brian. (Um, note to any Brian or Danny I might know in real life: any resemblance to any real person is completely coincidental. I swear.)
The two things that changed my life happened right there and then, one after the other. First, I saw her – beautiful, long brown hair, a strange look in her eye, like she was trying to figure out not just where to go, but where she was, and maybe even why she was there. Her green eyes shone at me for a second, maybe less, and yet they made contact – she was strong, a little wild, but needing help at the same time. Then she disappeared down the back hall, and it seemed like she’d seen something, or someone, and the vision chased her away. Or maybe she was only a vision all a long.
Second, I saw him – my father. The man I’d just closed the coffin cover for, threw a clod of dirt on. The man just lowered into the earth. He was right there, looking at me – aiming at me. The barrel of the gun he carried was pointed at my heart. I thought I saw his mouth move, in a way that might have been something like “I’m sorry” or “I hate you,” I couldn’t tell – and then the pop through the silencer, which I seemed to hear as a bang anyway, loud and clear, and then black.
Nothing at all, for I don’t know how long. A moment, a day, a lifetime.
Until the blur of the hospital room where I opened my eyes. A nurse changing the needle in my arm. Bustling, not noticing me noticing her. I looked gradually, slowly to the right, because even moving my eyes seemed to hurt like hell.
Danny – right there, looking like shit, like he hadn’t slept, like he hadn’t even had a drink. Right there.
“You old sonofabitch,” he said, softly, like a mama saying hello to her newborn baby. “I was going to kill you, if you went and died on me.”