The Setup--A Scene Sketch

Moving along with the MOOC (Massive Open Online Course) from the University of Iowa, “How Writers Write Fiction”. I’ve used this assignment to expand the characters and setup River Agosto’s first challenge.

The Setup

River’s fear of attack from behind wouldn’t allow for the use of ear buds to muffle the mindless chatter in the office. In an attempt to control the time wasters, Dusty Cooke and Rochelle Stone regularly circled the area. Their self-imposed deadline for the environmental impact report made River uncomfortable. They had never pushed this hard before. River had the phone signal turned down, but each time it rang, she jumped.

“Something’s wrong here,” Dusty’s voice bellowed from the receiver.

“Wrong?” River said knowing that even if it wasn’t her fault that she would be blamed for anything askew.

“You’ve got to go out to the excavation site tomorrow and check the soil samples. The salt levels can’t be this high. You’ve got to verify that the range is normal, or they’ll never let us finish the canals.”

“I double checked the numbers yesterday and they were accurate,”

“I knew I shouldn’t have trusted a greenie with this. I bet you sabotaged the data for the sake of saving some tortoises.”

The term greenie was Dusty’s slang for environmentalists and River was tired of the constant ridicule; but before she could let Dusty have it, she felt a tap from behind. It was Rochelle.

“Is that Dusty on the phone?”

“Hold on Dusty, Rochelle’s here,” River quipped and handed Rochelle the receiver.

“Hi darlin’, is there a problem with the construction site? Too much salt?  Well, we’ll tweak the numbers. What? A demonstration? Shit, this better not make the news. We’ve got to send someone who can talk green. Yeah, I guess River is it. I’ll talk to her about the money—she’ll do it. Huh? No worries, I’ll come by your office later.”

Rochelle hit end call. “Okay everyone, we need to have a quick meeting,” she announced to the rest of the cubicle row. “Conference Room C, now.”

Sadie, Jack and Opal filed out of their assigned pods as ordered, down the hall and into Room C without a word. They knew better than to question Rochelle, especially if they ever wanted to see bigger paychecks and private offices. River followed reluctantly.

“Okay everyone, here’s the scoop. As usual, it’s all about water and we have to prove that our canals won’t hurt, but help, the area. I’m sending River to personally take soil samples. Sadie, book her a flight to Albuquerque as soon as you can get her there. She’ll need a four wheel drive truck. Jack, pack her a sample bag and Opal transfer all the files to a laptop.”

The group scurried to their assignments. River glared at Rochelle. “This is kinda sudden, isn’t it? You want me to drop my life and run off on this whim of yours?”

“Look sweetie,” Rochelle started.

“I told you, my name is River.”

     “Okay, River,” Rochelle said softening her tone. “There’s money in this, lots of it and some of it could be yours.”

“How much money?” River also softened.

“You help us tweak a few reports, alter a few numbers and come out squeaky clean for the EPA and I’ll make sure you can move out of that hovel you call an apartment.  How would you feel about Cahuilla Hills? Maybe meet a Palm Desert hunk with a bank account and horses? It could be nice.”

River arrived on a flight from Palm Springs to Albuquerque at 9:00 P.M. Wednesday, November 11, 2015.

 

The Setup--A Scene Sketch

River Agosto -- A character study

Folks  often tell me that I take a round about approach to life. For years, to no avail,  I did my best to think like others.  When I decided to write an Environmental Action Thriller I gave myself permission to do it in any unorthodox fashion I wanted. I bought how to books, watched videos, asked other writers for help, and signed up for a MOOC (Massive Open Online Course) from the University of Iowa. As I work through some of their assignments, I thought I’d post a few tidbits here. This first one is an off-the-cuff scene into which I threw my main character, River Agosto. See what you think.

River Agosto

“River Agosto?” the nurse called out.

“Christ,” Sam snarled as River dug her nails into Sam’s leg for leverage. Her mangled foot had swollen to twice its normal size and the hard plastic waiting room chair had taken the feeling from her leg.

“I’m River, I’ll need some help.”

“Are you with him? Hon?” The nurse asked River as she pointed to Sam.

“Yeah, you wouldn’t know we were friends, by all the help he gives me.” River snapped.

Sam ruffled the pages of Sports Illustrated and sunk lower in his chair. ‘Whadaya want from me? It’s the swim suit issue. You’re a tough girl. You can walk,” he mumbled as he flipped through the pics of half-naked women.

River hobbled along behind the nurse who ushered her into EXAM ROOM B. “Take off your pants, socks, and shoes. The doctor will be in soon.”

River couldn’t put any weight on her left foot. That last slide down the canyon wall had dropped them fifty yards to where the mules waited. She could still hear Jack and Sadie’s curses echoing off the rock walls. Boy, were they pissed. She smiled at the thought, but this ankle hurt like hell. A tap on the door signaled the doctor’s entrance.

“Hi, I’m Dr. Sandahl, what do we have here?” Todd Sandahl asked as he flipped through a clipboard of paperwork.

River raised her leg, looked for a wedding ring and came up empty. She managed a few tears and gave it her best, “I’ve either sprained or broken this,” she sobbed. “I fell during a hike in the canyon and my friend outside in the waiting room brought me here to the ER.”

Dr. Todd glanced at his watch, pulled over a stool and peered at the injury. “I’ll buzz the nurse, she’ll take some x-rays. I don’t think it’s broken. She’ll give you a prescription for the pain; ice it and stay off it for a while and you’ll be fine. If it gets any worse see your family physician.”

“That’s it?” River whimpered.

The doc slid off his stool, “Yep, that’s it. Don’t call us, if we don’t call you,” he joked and slipped out into the hall.

“Shit,” she groaned as she gathered her stuff, managed to get her jeans back on, and hobbled to the waiting room. “Now where the hell did Sam go?”

“Will that be cash or credit card?”

“What?”

“Cash or Credit Card for the exam?”

“Is my friend still here?”

“No, he left. He called someone and they picked him up. He said he’d see you at home. Oh here, and he left you the car keys.”

River signed the discharge papers, handed over her credit card, and tried to look on the bright side—at least she could drive with her right foot and she wasn’t dead. Still she was going to beat the shit out of Sam—he better be home alone, that son of a bitch.

 

River Agosto -- A character study

Part 3 Out the Door

Part 3 Out the Door

I stayed put for a few moments after Claudia ran out on me. I shifted my gaze back to the ball. Encapsulated clouds swirled and became dark and threatening. The rock rolled off its stand to the floor, across the room, down the hallway to my bedroom. I followed and stuffed it into the green canvas backpack on my bed.

What was here to keep me?—my books?—records? Things; only things. The people I wanted to love didn’t care; didn’t feel—innards as hard as rocks. The curio shelf held scattered rough mined stones—amethyst, quartz, shale—I swept them into a side pocket.

The inanimate object mirrored my need to leave; to roll down a hallway or maybe a highway. It wouldn’t be long now.

Part 3 Out the Door

Part 2 Crystal Clarity

Part 2 Crystal Clarity

“Psychic power is a bunch of hooey” Claudia said nonchalantly as she took another bite of her pastrami on rye.

I pushed back from the pink Formica kitchen table and set my empty plate in the sink. “I’m sure I feel something when I tune in, especially if my crystal ball is near,” I responded.

I love Claudia more than anyone else. She is smart and pretty. Her feet are tiny as if they had been wrapped from birth—like they used to do in China. Her toes curl up and her strides are short. No matter what she wears she looks perfect—at least to me. I hang on her every word, completely ignoring her cruelty. I blame myself for not measuring up. I’m lucky to be her friend. I’m considered somebody because she lets me hang out—popularity by association. I know if I put up with the digs that somehow I’ll become like her—self-assured.

“Okay, so let’s go get it and you show me what you see,” she said handing me her now empty plate. “Clear off the table and bring in that Ouija board we played around with last year. You said that would work too and the thing didn’t budge. Seriously, Elaine, you are so full of shit.”

I pretended I didn’t hear the last remark and dutifully retrieved both my ball and the Hasbro game from my bedroom. As I carried it back, I thought about how much I wanted Claudia’s mother, Carolyn, to be my mother. She wasn’t pretty in a physical sense, but she carried herself with dignity and style. She had taste and was so kind to me when I waited forever on weekday mornings for Claudia to get ready for school. She talked to me as if I knew something, that I was smart and what I thought mattered.

“Okay set it here, “Claudia commanded. “Where’s the ball?”

Once again I pretended not to hear the impatience and carefully unpacked the board and flat plastic pointer— its triangular shape designed for three sets of fingers—we’d have to make two work. I set my crystal ball nearby.

“You sit there,” I said pointing to a side chair as I took the opposite position. “I’ll start it going.”

“What do you mean, going?” Claudia laughed.

“Watch. I’ve been practicing,” I whispered as I placed my fingertips on one side of the planchette. “And you’ve got to believe or it won’t work.”

After a few moments, I could feel slight burning in my hands and feet. I glanced at my ball and it was cloudy with a milky haze. The triangle began to move. It spelled out Doss.

“What the hell is Doss?” Claudia mumbled and glanced around the room. “What’s happening? I don’t like this—there’s something here.”

I looked towards my tiny crystal globe and saw a boy’s face with long straight hair. Claudia grabbed for her jacket that had fallen on the floor and headed towards the door.

“I’m going home,” was all she said as she left. Neither of us knew that within two years’ time, my name would be Elaine Doss.

 

 

Part 2 Crystal Clarity

Crystal Ball

Crystal Ball

Now smooth and round, I was once the center of a rough and un-tumbled rocky crag. For centuries I lived in darkness deep in a cavernous earthly vein. No light flowed to meet my gorgeous essence so I sat accepting all that was me. I don’t remember my Jurassic birthday, but I remember the day I was mined and exposed to light and vision.I remember the day human hands broke me from my wall and machined me rounded and clear as only a ball can be. Placed on a pedestal others gazed into me for vision. Sometimes I could see what they were, wanted to be or could be—other times clouds filled their soul and consciousness—not ready to see or be seen.

Human desire is new to this place—born recently to the planet. Yet humans love and hate with a vengeance that is strong and unclear. The earth’s desire is ageless and resourceful. Human’s may try and destroy me, but I am resilient. I adapt and wait for an opportunity to strike back with earthquakes, storms and floods. The stress brings wars, famines and man-made destruction—until I win and humanity is gone.

It goes, unless child-like visionaries see my light and my love. An infant’s eyes see my potential. The world is born anew with their re-birth. A toddler becomes my friend and I heal. The toddler ages into a seer. The seer keeps me on a shelf, easily within reach. I am a crystal ball—prism of light.

Photo courtesy of Blake Webster

www.mediadesignservices.com

Crystal Ball

Datura

Photo: Elaine Webster

Sketch Rendering: Blake Webster
www.mediadesignservices.com

Datura

Beautiful poison
Inspired by  love and death
Irresistible.

Illustrations add pizazz to poetry collections, cookbooks and children’s books. Many writers don’t include original artwork because of the expense involved. Today’s technology, however, can create sketches from photographs.

I took the original photo of a Datura flower at Fort Ross in

Sonoma County. Mercedes Call, the beautiful Chilean wife of

George W. Call, who purchased the Fort in 1873, was an avid gardener; the legacy of her efforts can still be admired in the garden she tended until her death in 1933. I was surprised to find this powerful plant among her collection. The substantial aged vine drew me in with its magic. The poisonous plant also has hallucinogenic properties. I wonder if Mercedes planted Datura only for its beauty or did she have other planned usages?

The sketch rendered by Blake Webster, captures the intensity even more. Blake’s experimentation with various enhancements has produced special effects that previously required an artist’s hand and he has added photographic rendering to his list of services. For more information contact Blake at blake@mediadesign-mds.com

Datura

Pan

Pan

I had lunch today with Pan.

–A birthday party;

he comes each year,

to eat oats and honey.

–Life’s nectar,

and to tell me that all is okay, all right, blessed.

Though reassuring, I don’t believe his devilish lies.

“It could be better,” I say.

He takes a sip of orange tea.

–Nibbles a tidbit of raisin bread toast with strawberry jam.

“There are special ones who feel deeply, but lose joy,” he says.

‘They are the most vulnerable,” I add thoughtfully as I take a scolding tone,

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.”

“Is there any other way?” he asks.

The sun is at sky’s peak and we laugh.

 

photo courtesy of Blake Webster

www.mediadesignservices.com

Pan