sixth scene

In the spirit of the exercise, pushing outside my comfort zone of writing, this is/was a series of posts. A first draft if you will. In doing so there is back story information that is being made up as the story unfolds in my imagination. Not every word written nor piece of information I, the writer, formulate in my mind needs to be made known to the reader but this series, isn’t for a reader. This blog is about me developing my skills as a writer. Therefore, I am sharing all in this rough, first draft. Some may or may not make it into the story a second or final drafts, if there are any. Including my debates on whether or not this or that stays as part of the story or not.
Why? Because if I could look over another writer’s shoulder as they began their body of work, this is something I would have love to be able to do. Even as a reader, I would love to be able to read the thoughts of my favorite writers as they wrote, and not just the story.
So here goes the whole thing, kitchen sink and all.
I need to research the funeral home side of pick of bodies at facilities, proper vehicle, and then research the plausibility of a body being removed, from a lock vehicle.
The body picked up by Sam and TJ will be stolen. In the lot before they ever leave the parking lot. The why had been eluding me, then I woke up one morning during the Christmas season with this idea-
The family in the room down the hall, they are dealing with a death also. They feared that Sam and TJ were picking up their deceased, and this would not do. They had called ‘their own people’. This woman in the hall that unnerved TJ, is the daughter of the other deceased person.
TJ left the parking lot, driving somewhat distractedly to the funeral home. Pulling up in to the (loading/unloading- terminology) area, he pulled forward, as if to back in. Looking for the first time since TJ got in the vehicle in the rear mirror to check the body’s position from the wide sweep and assure himself that all was well before backing up into the now open bay/covered awning. He saw no body. He put the vehicle in park and turned his whole body to the right, slowly, eyes wide in disbelief. His head turning first, looking over his shoulder, seeing only the floorboard, turned shoulders and down to his waist, using his hands on the wheel, gripping tightly to wedge/will his upper body to turn and remain still.
Breath, Tj told himself. What is today? IT is Friday. Friday the tenth, not the thirteenth. He was on duty and he just came from a pick up. He turned back to sit facing forward. his watch on his left hand just barely perceivable under his jacket sleeve. Arching his wrist without taking his hands off the solid steering wheel, which was his grasp to reality at the moment. He checked the time piece. The face of the clock showing quarter til 2 the date the 10th, day, Friday. He was not losing his grip with reality.
Breathing in and out. He pulled his right hand from the steering wheel, reaching down to the cell phone clipped to his belt. Raising to rest his hand on the center of the steering wheel, he hit the button, lighting up the phone’s screen. Friday 10th, 1:46 AM flashed brightly. He hit the button again, and the screen of options popped up. Hitting the call button and seeing the keypad blaze in the dark. TJ dialed 911. As the phone began to ring, his thought his mind stopped. What the hell was he going to say?


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