Tag: dialogue

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Engineer Coffee’s Plans Revealed, Nearly

https://1000days.douglasblaine.com/20101021/on-the-life-of-engineer-coffee/

For more of my Ian McQue inspired writings check out the ‘terminus‘ tag.

“He did it. You said he’d do it. And he did it,” Sriram tossed his cap and coat onto the work table near the entrance to the lab. Both garments slumped to the floor like a dead body. He cursed in Hindi then put them back in the same spot on the table. They slid to the floor again. Sri kicked the bundle up under the work table as far back as his anger could get it. “Mador chod!”

Coffee closed the valves on the oxy-acetylene torch he used and set the tool down. He sloughed off his glove and reached under his mask to rub his eyes while Sriram stood there watching. Coffee cocked back the visor.

“Aren’t you pissed?”

“Actually I’m excited,” Coffee said. “Moving the shop will be good for all of us.”

“But he hung you out. If this fails it’s all on you…”

“And if it succeeds it’s all on him…”

“Yes! Yes. That’s what I’ve been saying.” Sri made a gesture with his hand and arm like he wanted to put his brain in Coffee’s skull.

The slender body of Ronnie James Dio crashed into the door frame. His shaven head clunked into the jam as he almost over shot the entrance. “We’re fucking moving the shop? We’re fucking moving the fucking shop?”

“Calm down, kid,” Sri said.

“You calm down, Sri.” Ronnie rubbed his scalp and looked for blood on his fingers. “Is it true Mr. Coffee. Are we moving the shop? Did you tell the Admiral we had to move the shop?”

300 words on day 607

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An Ending of Jackern

https://1000days.douglasblaine.com/20080513/what-kind-of-choir/

Jackern resisted the urge to scrawl his signature in florid loops across the agreement. He guessed he’d always recognize and deny each moment his old self surfaced.

Condorre cleared his throat.

Jackern constrained his name to the space allotted him among the other—credentialed— generals. When Kate strode up he placed the pen in her hand. He made a point to brush the skin of her palm with his fingers but not look to her eyes. Maybe he could extend something from what had happened between them at Lan Caloon. Not today though, not yet anyway.

Sunlight streamed through the oculus like honey poured from a jar.  Condorre embraced him and patted his back once he descended the few steps and joined him in the circled group.  It was a good day inside and out.

“Your father would have been proud, Jack.”

“My father would have set fire to my house and raped my wives had I any.”

“That too.”

170 words on day 598

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Never Endings

I read a writers suggestion on how to flesh out a novel synopsis: write the opening scene one day, the ending scene the next, fill in the major plot points each of the next few days. He may have suggested additional assignements on subsequent days. I zoned out after a bit so I’ll never know.

I drifted from his instructions because I got to thinking about endings. I don’t write them.

Jackson slapped shave-and-haircut on the metal roof of his car and slid in behind the wheel. I ducked to see him through the passenger’s side. Without thinking, I tapped two-bits on the sun-dried molding of the car door.

“Up or down?” I reached inside for the handle.

“Leave it.”

“This isn’t good-bye,” I said.

Jackson turned halfway to me and leaned over like he was driving and keeping one eye on the road or like a blind person looking with his ears–eyes drifting into space. I wanted to lean in. I wanted to touch his face. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to make him believe me when I said it, so I said it again. “This isn’t good-bye.”

He chunked the handle on the steering column to D. His foot became heavy on the pedal, and I felt the car moving forward taking my arms with it for a while and pivoting my boots in the gravel. I recalled the agonizing sound when the wind rises from a different direction than the fan on a windmill already rests.

The sound of slow tires on a gravel road broke my heart.

272 words on day 595