So, going back to the beginning, today’s offering is from Driving Into Forever, which was my first attempt (and only failure) at NaNo in 2006. The story was done in 35,000 words and although the idea was solid enough, the execution was pretty iffy.
The problem was my main character, Hannah. I was pretty meh about her and it showed. I’ve since tried to rewrite it several times, but in the long run I’ve only made things worse. I haven’t given up on it though, and one of these days I hope to get it right.
This scene isn’t quite the beginning, but it’s close. The main character, Hannah, is returning home after spending the night at her friend Sara’s. They’re in a local orchestra together and went out drinking after practice. The rest is kind of self-explanatory.
The fog wasn’t as bad at street level as it looked from above. The air was still cold though, and very damp. She hummed the piece they’d been practicing last night as she walked back to her car. It was a new piece and a little more challenging than they usually tried.
Her rag top jeep looked out of place in the parking lot, parked between a brand new Lexus and last year’s Mercedes. Old and beat up it might be, but Hannah would take her jeep over a new car any time. It was one hundred percent reliable, starting no matter what the weather conditions. Old enough to get great gas mileage, it was also built sturdy enough to take the abuse the drive to her house dished out. But the best part of all was the kick-ass stereo system the kid she bought it from had installed, complete with CD player.
She tossed her flute case on top of the pile of CDs on the passenger seat and backed carefully out of the parking space. There wasn’t a lot of traffic on the way out of the city, nor was highway 37 busy. Hannah hadn’t lied when she said she loved driving in the fog, especially when the traffic was light. The highway went up and down like a roller coaster. When she was on top of a hill it was like she was by herself on top of the world and when she drove back down into the mist it was like driving into forever.
Chopin was blaring from the stereo speakers as she turned onto the road to the causeway. The road was nowhere near as bad as Sara claimed. It might not be paved, but it was kept in very good repair. The wealthy home owners at the end of the causeway saw to that. And the causeway itself was only half a mile long, tops.
Hannah had inherited her house from her favorite Aunt, a retired music teacher from whom she also inherited her love of music. It was a raised bungalow with a wrap-around deck and a hundred and thirty-five feet of frontage on the lake. There were only a dozen or so houses on the island, set amongst the trees, all meant to be permanent homes. Most of the other owners, however, went south for the winter.
The fog was denser here than on the highway but Hannah drove confidently. This stretch of road was pretty much straight to the causeway. There was a yellow, greenish cast to the fog, reminding Hannah of the miasma that the swamp gave off on early, hot summer mornings. It was starting to give her the creeps. She shivered and turned the stereo up a notch.
More than ever Hannah was grateful she was in her jeep. The fog was getting denser, even though she was driving through the woods, and the colour was deepening. They must have gotten snow out here last night, it didn’t feel like she was driving on gravel anymore. At least she knew she was still on the road. The trees were dense enough that if she’d left the road she’d have hit something by now.
Hannah checked the speedometer and let up on the gas. She was already going slower than she usually drove, but it still felt too fast. The tires didn’t feel like they were getting any traction and she seemed to be accelerating. The fog was all around her, Hannah took her foot of the gas altogether and started braking. Chopin gave way to Mozart but for the first time the music failed to soothe her.
It was impossible, but she was picking up speed. Hannah turned the four-way flashers on and tightened her grip on the steering wheel. Shapes started to form in front of her, too indistinct to make out. Shrubs? trees? buildings? There was a lurch and suddenly the ground was solid again but rough and uneven.
Why did she have the sensation of going downhill, there wasn’t a hill for miles around here. The fog thinned out just enough for Hannah to see she was indeed going downhill at an impossible speed and angle. The sparse brush she ploughed through did little to slow her down. She wrenched the steering wheel left, then sharply right, trying to avoid the trees that seemed to jump out in front of her.
Finally came the tree she couldn’t avoid and she hit it dead on. The impact snapped her forward, then back but the seatbelt held. The jeep’s engine stalled, but the four-way flashers blinked regularly and the CD player played on. Nothing else moved as the eerie mist began filling the car.
No comments:
Post a Comment