Sunday, January 14, 2007

The Weekly Game

Light streamed in through the dirty window, staining the floor. The bright light of the sun fell on his face and caused him to stir from his sleep. He blinked a few times before getting becoming aware of his surroundings. He was in his small apartment. Next to his bed, his alarm clock was ringing, silently. He made a note to get a new one. He wandered into his bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face, just like he did every morning. Afterwards, he walked into the kitchen area and poured himself a bowl of cereal. He slowly woke up as he ate, remembering what day it was. Sunday, he thought. Today is Sunday. He smiled to himself. Sunday is his favorite day of the week.
He put on some shorts and shoes and took the steps to the ground floor of the apartment building. As he stepped outside, he covered his eyes to block out the brightness of the sun. As he adjusted to the light, he began his daily jog. As he ran, he talked to no one that he met on the way. He gave out smiles and waves as he passed people, but remained silent, reflecting on the day before.
He had gone into the city to get some work done. He hated the commute and often thought about moving closer to his job. He could easily afford to move into a nice, large apartment in the city, but he could never bring himself to do it. It would change too many things.
He finished his jog back at the apartment building. He walked up the steps to his room, where he took a quick shower. He then sat down on his faded red couch with his latest book and began to read. He sat there for hours, until he looked up at his clock on the wall.
He marked his place in his book and walked to the tavern. He walked around to the back of the tavern and knocked on the black door. The door hadn't always been black; it used to be brown, but the years of grime had changed it. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe off his hand while he waited for someone to answer the door. The small slit at eye level abruptly opened, then quickly closed. The door then opened to let him enter the dark, seedy room. He sat down at the large, oval-shaped table and smiled as his first cards were dealt to him.

5 comments:

ELise said...

Subtle suggestions about your character, such as "he could easily move...it would change too mant things" are intriguing and give me, as the reader, a sense that even though the opening setting and events are not too exciting or unusual (until the cards)there is more than meets the eye, and deeper meaning under the surface. I want to find out what this man does for a job in the city, and the circumstances of why he avoids change. The foreshadowing of the game of cards is enhanced more by all the unknowns about the player, the reader gets a sense of building anticipation with no idea what to expect or how it may be relevant; I found myself looking for clues in everything. Nice. I hope the character reamins to be slowly reavealed to us, as the story unfolds, giving us chunks at a time that may or may not be significant.

Shaun B. said...

This is nonsense Daniel, you are obsessed with poker. I think the key part you will have to add though is that your character loses every time to resemble your winnings. Seriously though, good character description, could possibly go into greater detail into his motives. Like why he doesn't want to move, why he has a non-functional alarm, or why he has an obsession with poker. But I'm sure you'll go into that later on. Still needs an apartment number but other than that, it's a good opening.

RobintheHood said...

"He wandered into his bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face, just like he did every morning. Afterwards, he walked into the kitchen area and poured himself a bowl of cereal."
I like the post and find the character funny as he brushes his teeth before eating.

Will Slack said...

I like the last seentence - it evokes a strong image of him sudenly relaxed. The rest of the post seems uptight, especially the security; this part is looser.

And like Elise, I want to know what he does with the rest of his time, and what holds him to Thallow.

TimW said...

http://neandrathalpie.blogspot.com/2007/01/apartment-205.html

my reply to yours