This is where it all begins.

Ok, so I’ve been writing as you lot (at least the 4 of you who read this) are aware. What follows is the prologue for the novel, I will probably post Chapter 1 in a couple of weeks to see what you think and whether you want to read more. Let me know what you think!!

Title – Untitled story being written by someone who really ought to accept the fact that he is never going to see his name in print!!!

Prologue

It had been one hell of a night and Max was just about to set off on the short walk home from his job at the local Pizza place, you know the one, it’s named after the game that old men played in pubs, little bits of plastic with dots on. Yes that’s the one. As he closed the door to the shop, making sure that the temporary wood that covered the broken lower half of the door was secure, he realised that the earlier drizzle was starting to get serious now and looked like it was here to stay. He pulled his jacket tighter around himself but still failed in his attempt to stop yet another drop of water from wriggling past his jacket collar and down the back of his neck.“Just typical”, he thought “always starts raining just as I leave this dump”.Anyway tonight had been slow, there had been slow nights before, but this had been bordering on the ridiculous, only 3 customers had phoned up for delivery and only one person had actually come into the store to buy a pizza. Business had been slow for months, but lately it was almost non-existent, a clear sign that this area of town was heading into the toilet. From a new development only 20 years before, promising prosperity for all, to what was quickly becoming a area that attracted a lower level of humanity only and was avoided by those who knew better. Why the owner kept the store open he was never sure, but to him it was just a job and a way to make the money he needed to survive. Whilst the other employees enjoyed the free time the lack of customers gave them, goofing off seemed to be the only thing that they were good at and he could see that they were going to struggle to find another job. For him though the lack of stimulus simply meant that there was just more time for him to think and that was never a good thing thing for him to do. The familiar questions that had first plagued him 5 years ago, still turned in his head. “Why did it happen”, “Why him” and “Was there anything he could have done to avoid it”. But after his evening shift he had no new answers, still seeking that Eureka moment that would somehow allow him to make sense of it all, something that would have satisfied his doubts and allowed him to move forward. He had been stuck in this rut since that October evening, over 5 years ago, shook his life to the foundations and here he was now at the bottom of the heap with no idea how he could get back to the happiness he used to know, when life was brighter.

Another drop of rain trickling down his back snapped him back to the present, as he completed locking up the shop one more time, another miserable day over and done with and the only bright spot on the horizon, the 4 pack of beer in the fridge at home. “Home” he silently chuckled to himself, hardly a fitting title, a small flat with a bedroom and small lounge, just a microwave and mini-fridge that served as his kitchen, a single chair, portable TV and a mattress that just sat on the floor and served as a bed. But at least is was his bought and paid for with cash back when he lived a different life style, back when he had needed somewhere for Sarah.
Sarah, now that was another set of thoughts best left alone, going down that path never ended pleasantly and the 4-pack would not be enough to drown the depression that her memory usually led to. But once he had dredged up the image of her face, her shoulder length blonde hair and cherry red lipstick on lips that he had tasted on many occasion, he was again lost in the past and his focus for once was on the good times with Sarah, the times when they had danced freely and in the days when their love was pure, days before the crash, days before his life fell apart.
As he turned away from the shop and out into to the drizzle that was trying it’s best to get upgraded to rain, his mind was fully in the past and anyone looking closely might just have caught the slight smile that briefly passed over his lips before they returned to a more neutral stance.

It was due to this overwhelming focus on events that should have been long forgotten that it was only his auto pilot, honed from walking this route almost every day for the last 5 years, guiding him as he walked home. It was no surprise then that he never saw the man in the shadows of a burnt out shop doorway, he walked straight past him head down and eyes seemingly staring at the cracks as he moved along, yet clearly not seeing them. It’s unlikely he would have seen the man if he had been paying attention, however in his current state of mind he had no chance, the man stepped out behind him and moved in closer, his movements clear and defined belying the dirty clothes and haggard appearance, Max never saw the man’s arm rise up and swing down towards him, never saw the short length of pipe in the man’s hand.
His first clue that something was wrong was the sharp pain around his neck and the realisation that the wet grey pavement was rushing up to meet him. Or maybe he was heading down he wasn’t too sure and as darkness drew him deeper and his head connected with the concrete slabs, in that window where most people expected their life to flash in front of their eyes, the one and only thought that was going through his mind was a single name, Sarah.

So there you go, the Prolog is out and running wild.  Please do comment (sensibly) what do you think???