26.6.12

Chapter 1: Bluer Than Blue

At the risk of being plagiarized, I'm going to start posting the chapters of my first (serial) novel, "Bluer Than Blue..."



Chapter 1: Bluer Than Blue

The public library is usually eerily quiet, with the occasional flipping of pages and clearing of throats, and dropping of pens. That particular day in fall, unseasonably warm, the sun cast long across the marble floor and onto the sturdy wooden table where she sat, unemployed, mind hopeful and drifting, with an open book on Buddhism. The scene was strikingly picturesque; exactly ready to photograph with the uplifting lighting and dust particles sparkling in flight. She turned the page to a passage about the virtues of compassion and narrowed her eyes a little in introspection.



"THUNK!"



There he was. He plopped down noisily with his black shoulder bag, looking disheveled and smelling kind of like a public toilet. "Good God," Sheila muttered under her breath and adjusted herself in her seat.



"What's that - what's that you say...?" His eyes looked relatively intelligent.



Given her reading material, she restrained herself from popping up automatically and scurrying to the other side of the library, or to another level altogether. Because after all, what had she been reading about - forthrightness, compassion, understanding.



"I said 'Good. God.' What's happened to you?"



From a mess of dark hair this more often than not rejected man said, "I'm Harold.”



“...Well, you said 'Good God' ...now which one? Look there - you reading about Buddha right? You said 'Good God' - you James Brown? ... What's happened to me??"



She had hardly expected this verbal barrage from the untidy Harold. People in the surrounding area were starting to look over sympathetically or just plain uncomfortably. A security guard named Maxine was poised to intervene. She'd just had her hair done and was feeling in charge, ready for some action. Harold was oblivious to that.



"What's happened to me is bluer than blue. I've been to school...jail, rehab...jail. No kids, though, no kids."



Sheila settled back into her chair, sort of genuinely interested. He really put things in perspective.