Installment 9 — The Reader

  This is the ninth installment of a story that will unravel slowly. Check back to find out what happens as the tale unfolds. Updates will be posted on Twitter and Facebook.

“Ms. Walker, please hold on for Doctor Goldstein.” A woman’s overly sweet voice said.

It’s Mrs. Walker to you.  “Could you…could you tell the Doctor…”

Emma tried to untangle her words, but the sweet voiced woman was already connecting her.

“Hello Emma, how are we doing today?” The doctor said, in what Emma perceived as a condescending tone.

In her opinion he sounded too much like Cary Grant to ever take him seriously. Emma, Emma, Emma, how are we doing today? she imagined him saying.

        “Fine doctor; a little early to be calling don’t you think? I might have been sleeping.” Emma’s voice sounded old to her today and she wondered if she was coming down with something.

“At 10 a.m.? Not particularly.” The doctor said.

Emma shot her eyes toward the clock, which read two minutes after 10. She was confused for a moment until she figured she must have dozed back to sleep. After all, the storm probably kept her from having a good night’s rest.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize what time it was,” Emma said.

The doctor took in a deep breath as if collecting his thoughts. “Are you still having black outs?” he said, not wanting to beat around the bush. “It’s very important that you continue to take the medicine I prescribed.”

Installment 8 — The Reader

 This is the eighth installment of a story that will unravel slowly. Check back to find out what happens as the tale unfolds. Updates will be posted on Twitter and Facebook.

Emma decided to play her friend’s game, and took the psychiatrist’s business card from Anne’s outstretched hand. Although she had no mind to ever reach out to Anne again, Emma did call Dr. Donald Goldstein that day.

***********

        “No…no, not again,” she said out loud to herself.  Her hand seemed to have a mind of its own, and she picked up the receiver placing it near her ear.

       “Please stop calling,” Emma whispered to the caller. She glanced down on the round table next to her reading chair and opened The Secret to the first page with her free hand. A business card fell out and onto the floor. Emma picked it up reading the type side. Dr. Donald Goldstein Jr.  A phone number that could be called 24 hours a day boldly italicized right below the name.

“Ms. Walker, please hold on for Doctor Goldstein.” A woman’s overly sweet voice said.

It’s Mrs. Walker to you.  “Could you…could you tell the doctor…”

Emma tried to untangle her words, but the sweet-voiced woman was already connecting her.

Installment 7 – The Reader

This is the seventh installment of a story that will unravel slowly, week by week. Check back to find out what happens as the tale unfolds. Updates will be posted on Twitter and Facebook.

“Please stop calling,” Emma whispered to the caller over and over again

***************************************

When Ethan had suddenly past away he took Emma’s world with him; for he was her world. She had opened her heart and soul to him and as sure as there were death and taxes, Emma knew Ethan had felt the same way about her. And yet, he died and she lived–this basic equation was not within Emma’s means to grasp.

A few weeks after the accident, an acquaintance of Emma’s, Anne Dellik, gently suggested the name of a good psychiatrist. The doctor would help her to come to terms with her inner feelings, she had said. He would help her to grieve and then move on, she had said. Emma knew this to be a bald-face lie.  I don’t need help to grieve, Emma had thought, I do that just fine on my own, thank you very much, and there certainly would be no moving on. The needle had been lifted; the music stopped.

Emma decided to play her friend’s game and took the psychiatrist business card from Anne’s outstretched hand. Although she had no mind to ever reach out to Anne again, Emma did call Doctor Donald Goldstein that very same day.

Installment 6 — The Reader

This is the sixth installment of a story that will unravel slowly, week by week. Check back to find out what happens as the tale unfolds. Updates will be posted on Twitter and Facebook.

The house phone rang out, waking up Emma from a deep sleep. The electricity had been restored, brightly illuminating her reading room. Her eyes darted around the room but Ethan was no longer there. Of course he wasn’t, for he had died.

This simple fact didn’t stop her from purchasing his favorite cupcake every day. It didn’t stop her from believing he was somehow still with her.  It only stopped her from living.

The phone continued to ring. It was seven in the morning and the phone would not be quiet.  Emma knew it could only be one person.

“No…no, not again,” she said out loud to herself.  Emma decided to let it ring forever if necessary, but her hand seemed to have a mind of its own and she picked up the receiver placing it near her ear.

“Please stop calling,” Emma whispered to the caller over and over again…

Installment 5 – The Reader

This is the fourth installment of a story that will unravel slowly, week by week. Check back to find out what happens as the tale unfolds. Updates will be posted on Twitter and Facebook.

The lights had finally succumbed to the storm and she reached clumsily for the flashlight to turn it on. Emma pointed it toward the chair, near the far corner. Sure enough, Ethan was sitting there.

“Thank God you’re back Ethan, but you shouldn’t scare me like that. You could have let me know you were here,” she said.

Ethan smiled. “I’m sorry honey, but you know I love to watch you sleep. It’s like looking at a work of art.”

Emma blushed. After all these years he could still make her do so.

“I love you, even if you don’t say things like that to me.” This time she smiled. Another round of lighting and thunder interrupted them.

He stayed calmly sitting in the chair. “Did you think I would abandon you during a storm?”

“Ethan, are you speaking of the storm outside or the one within me?” she asked.

He came over slowly to her and caressed her hair. “Emma, only you can answer that.”

Ethan bent down and very gently kissed her on the forehead. “Why is it, we only get to talk to each other when you’re holding that book in your hand?”

The house phone rang out, waking up Emma from a deep sleep …

Installment 4 – The Reader

This is the fourth installment of a story that will unravel slowly, week by week. Check back to find out what happens as the tale unfolds. Updates will be posted on Twitter and Facebook.

Draped within her favorite robe, Emma sat down under her reading light in hopes of finishing her mystery book, The Secret, by Mary Roberts Rinehart.  The storm outside raged on, prompting the lights to flicker from dull to bright then back to dull.

“Just perfect, next the lights will go out and I’ll be sitting here in the dark, alone, waiting for Ethan to show,” she uttered with more than a hint of sarcasm. “Besides that, I’ll never get to finish this book. I really need to see how it all ends.”

Her words echoed in the sparsely furnished room.

With a precautionary flashlight lying on the round table next to her, she opened the book to the final chapter, falling asleep in the chair as per her ritual, without reading a single word.

A violent burst of lighting, shortly followed by a deafening roll of thunder, awakened Emma. She let out a sharp scream and then immediately felt embarrassed on having done so. The lights had finally succumbed to the storm and she reached clumsily for the flashlight to turn it on.

Emma pointed it toward the chair near the far corner and sure enough, Ethan was sitting there …

Installment 3 – The Reader

This is the third installment of a story that will unravel slowly, week by week. Check back to find out what happens as the tale unfolds. Updates will be posted on Twitter and Facebook.

A truck whizzed by with its horn angrily blaring, scaring the life out of her.  Emma’s body trembled, then tears rushed from her eyes.

****************

“Thank God, I made it back safely,” Emma stated. Her hand turned the key to unlock the front door. Emma wasn’t aware when she stopped crying or, for that

matter, the rest of her journey home. For a brief, terrifying moment she couldn’t even remember getting out of her car. “Am I going crazy?” Emma yelled at herself.  She spun

around; her eyes rested on the automobile parked neatly in the driveway. She felt a wave of relief before entering her house. 

She knew Ethan wouldn’t be home so she put the cupcake gently on his office desk, right next to the five-by-seven framed picture–taken two years ago, or maybe more–of the two of them standing in front of their Richmond Hill home. Then she went upstairs to put on dry, comfortable clothing.

Later, draped within her favorite robe, Emma sat down under her reading light in hopes of finishing her mystery book, The Secret, by Mary Roberts Rinehart.  The storm outside raged on, prompting the lights to flicker…

Installment 2 – The Reader

This is the second installment of a story that will unravel slowly, week by week. Check back to find out what happens as the tale unfolds. Updates will be posted on Twitter and Facebook.

 

 

A Fiction story

By

DAVID ROSS WILLIS

The sky quickly darkened around her followed by a light drizzle, causing her to turn on the windshield wipers.  “I don’t remember hearing anything about rain today,” she said, while the wipers labored, squealing back and forth. Emma accelerated the car not wanting to get caught driving in a southern downpour. A small brown bag containing two chocolate cupcakes teetered on the edge of the passenger seat; she used her right hand to stop it from tipping over onto the car mat. The last thing she wanted was to bring Ethan a flattened dessert. He never cared about such trivial things, but she did.

Emma’s thoughts drifted to the first time she met Ethan and she found herself missing her turn as the drizzle dramatically turned into a hard rain. The fierce tap-dancing of the raindrops on the car’s metal roof went right through her head.

“Dang it! Wake up Emma!” She banged on the steering wheel a couple of times. Without signaling, she pulled over onto the shoulder of the road to attempt a u-turn. A truck whizzed by with its horn angrily blaring, scaring the life out of her.  Emma’s body trembled, then tears rushed from her eyes…

Installment 1 – The Reader

This is the first installment of a story that will unravel slowly. Each week, I will add more details, more back story and more to the plot. Check Twitter and Facebook for updates.

A Fiction story

By

DAVID ROSS WILLIS

PART ONE

Emma Walker could not envision five years passing since her husband, Ethan, had accidently come across the quaint old town of Richmond Hill while driving to Savannah for a business convention. It didn’t take long for the two of them to fall in love with the area. Neither had family ties; Emma and Ethan were all each other needed. So, they packed their belongings, leaving the hustle and bustle of city life. They cashed in enough savings to put a down payment on a beautiful old colonial-style house right off of the Ogeechee River, secluded from the rest of the world.

It had been a dream come true.

PRESENT TIME

             Emma drove alone, eastward in her Ford Sedan on highway one-forty-four, through the town of Richmond Hill, heading towards home. She took a quick glance in the rear

view mirror at herself. “How could a thirty-five year old look so tired, so…so old?” Emma said out loud.  She often talked to herself, figuring she wasn’t crazy as long as she

didn’t carry on a lengthy conversation. A habit Ethan never seemed to mind…not one little bit.

The sky quickly darkened around her…

Writing with… dolls? Surprise Writing Tips

Writing away everyday!

Okay, I admit it, I love writing mystery/suspense. If you’ve read my book, Lonely Deceptions, you know what I mean. I recently attempted to write a simple story about a fictitious baseball team. No harm in that, right? By the second chapter it turned into a mystery/suspense…go figure.

I guess what I’m trying to convey is, what many, many people have suggested before me…write what you know, what you love, what you get excited about. I believe then your story will ring true, even if it takes place on a planet billions of miles away or as close as your own backyard.

I have some tools, so to speak, which help me when I’m writing a story. This may or may not help you while staring at a blank piece of paper.

Write every day, this builds up your imagination and creativity.  (Simple for me to say, harder to actually do).

For a few minutes at night I take out the thesaurus, pick out random words and create sentences around them. For me, this little exercise is actually a lot of fun.

I can’t believe I’m going to tell you this last thing that I believe helped me in my writing, but, when my daughter was younger she loved having me play dolls with her. We would create lavish adventure stories for the dolls to go on, complete with dialogue. And at the end we would even do a blooper reel. By the way, now my ten-year-old daughter is writing her own short stories.

Happy writing everybody!