30 Days of Writing–Day 19: Minor Characters

 

For Elise

Image by * Dino Galvagno * via Flickr

 

Moving on to minor characters now, who often can be more fun and interesting to write than the protagonist and antagonist.

19. Favorite minor that decided to shove himself into the spotlight and why!

Few people have met her, but the one who made me giggle the most was Elise from The Fool’s Bet.  Though the rest of the story was a monument to Freshman mistakes, she had quite a few lines either about her or that she spoke that I still think are pretty damn funny.  Here’s how she’s described when the reader first meets her (please forgive the bad writing in all the excerpts below that I see so much more clearly now):

Elise was recently divorced from husband number two. She had lived in LA a bit too long, unfortunately, and men to her were becoming like bottled water–absolutely essential for living but quickly consumed and 100% disposable.

When Elise meets her dear friend’s very tall love interest for the first time:

As he made his way toward them, Elise said, “Good Lord, Chelsea.  What have you dragged home?  He’s very cute but couldn’t you find one in your size?  You won’t be able to kiss and f**k him at the same time!”

A good friend to the protagonist, Elise was great with a comeback that was both funny and supportive:

“Has she always been like this?” Zach asked Elise, nodding his head toward Chelsea.

“Do you mean sarcastic, bossy and sharp-tongued?  Or do you mean witty, intelligent, and generous?  If so, the answer is yes, she’s always been like this.”

And then one of my favorite exchanges between Elise and Chelsea:

“Define what you believe to be the perfect guy for me?” asked Chelsea.

“Driven but kind, successful but not flaunting of it, attractive but not so attractive that women would be throwing themselves at him, private, generous and with a sense of humor.  How’d I do?”

“That’s pretty good but I doubt such a man exists.”

“Oh he exists all right and you’re going to go out with him and have a marvelous time.  The man I’m thinking of is single and in possession of a fortune.  Ergo, he must surely be in want of a wife…or at least someone to act like a wife in all things carnal.”

“What’s his name, Charles Bingley?” asked Chelsea, laughing at Elise’s literary allusion to her favorite novel, Pride and Prejudice.

“I think he goes by Chuck these days,” said Elise.  “But we really must fix you up a bit, maybe get your hair trimmed and re-layered and dye it to cover the grey.”

“I don’t have any grey hairs yet!”

“Just a few.  Nothing a semi-permanent rinse can’t cover up though.  I can do your makeup for you too.  You’ll go, have a nice dinner and then you can thank him in your own special way afterwards.”

“Elise!  I hope you are not implying that I should have sex with this guy just because he buys me dinner,” said Chelsea, though not overly shocked, considering the source.

“Certainly not.  You should have sex with him because you need to have sex with someone and soon before you forget how.  But he doesn’t need to know that.  Make him chase you around Netherfield Park a bit first.”

I still snicker at that last line.  Ha!  Sometimes it’s hard to be humble; other times you gotta batten down the hatches against the fury of bluntly honest feedback.  The Fool’s Bet‘s harshest critic (to whom I am eternally grateful for her candor but still limping from her sarcastic delivery of it)  had the kindest words for Elise.

Though I trunked  The Fool’s Bet, I may recycle Elise one of these days, possibly even give her her own story.  Her will to live is quite strong.  She just had the misfortune to befriend a character who wasn’t all that interesting.  And as they say, timing is everything!

Halloween Ghost Story

My very talented writer friend Regan Leigh is once again having a blog contest. Entrants must write a flash fiction (under 1000 words) story with a Halloween or Fall theme and base it on one of the four pictures she posted on her site.

I selected the photo pictured and here is my entry:

Open House

Karen cringed when she saw the open house she’d drawn for the day. She didn’t mind open houses so much as she minded that particular house. The Winston home squatted atop the peak of Tilney Avenue, twenty two hundred square feet of nightmarish, unmovable real estate. She wished the owners would take it off the market for six months, maybe even a year, but they no longer lived in the area, had moved shortly after the incident. People blamed them for much but no one blamed them for that.

The dank and musty interior of the house hit her nostrils as soon as she opened the door. She scolded herself for not coming earlier to air it out. After turning on all the lights, checking the sinks and toilets for unsightly debris and running a wet towel over all the counter tops, she declared the home ready to show. Then waited.

Three hours later and no one had stopped to see the house. One or two cars slowed at the driveway but kept going. Karen walked outside to make sure she hadn’t missed any telltale signs of neglect but found nothing amiss. With a sigh, she returned inside and resumed her novel, a horror story about a pair of bewitched Jimmy Choo’s.

Thump-thump.

Muffled sounds from one of the back bedrooms grabbed Karen’s attention. “Oh no…” The hair on her neck stood up on its ends. She quickly snatched her purse to her chest and scoured inside. “Where is it? Where is it?”

The doorbell’s chiming interrupted her search. She dropped her bag and bolted for the door. “Of all the times…” she began muttering as she plastered on her realtor’s smile and greeted her visitors.

“Come in and welcome.” She stepped back to usher in a couple in their late thirties. “I’m Karen Kramer and I’d love to tell you about the house.”

The woman, who had been craning her neck to survey the living room during Karen’s introduction, snapped to attention. “Oh, I’m Susan and this is my husband, Greer. Oy, we’ve been to so many open houses today, I’m just exhausted. Our realtor didn’t mention this one, but we were in the neighborhood and saw your sign.”

Karen did a mental cheer. “I think this’ll be the last house you need to traipse through because I have a feeling you’re going to love it.” She darted a glance at Greer, who stood in stoic silence behind his wife and appeared to be inspecting the carpet.

“We’re kind of particular about what we want so don’t get your hopes up too high.” Susan gave her a pinched smile then turned to her husband. “Honey look, wood paneling.”

Karen suppressed a groan. “I know it’s a bit dated, but the owners will put five thousand dollars into escrow to upgrade the house. You could easily remove the paneling, sheet-rock and paint the walls in here. With a lighter wall color, this room will feel so much more open and airy.”

“Looks perfectly fine to me.” Greer marched over and rapped the back of his knuckles against the wall.

As he rejoined his wife, Karen’s eyes flew open at the sight of two words in red that slowly materialized just above the light switch:

GET OUT.

“Uh, let’s go see the kitchen shall we?” She beckoned the couple to follow, neither having noticed the crudely scrawled threat behind them.

Greer walked straight to the sink and peered out the window into the back yard. “How much land?”

“Um, I believe it’s nearly a half an acre. Hang on. Let me double check that.” She ran her finger down the fact sheet. “Yes, half an acre.” When she looked up, Greer had turned on the water in the sink, only it wasn’t water trickling from the spigot, but blood.

“Looks like the pipes are a little rusty.” Greer shrugged and turned the knobs to their off position.

“Come on Honey, let’s go see the bedrooms.” Susan exited the kitchen, walked through the dining room after a quick assessment then down the hallway.

Karen clicked off the kitchen light and started as a cold chill passed through her and an unseen speaker whispered, “Leave!” in her ear. Ahead of her, Greer snickered to Susan that someone forgot to flush the toilet.

“Oh my God!” Susan stopped dead in her tracks, her hands flew to her face. “Oh my God!” She shrieked her words as she peered inside one of the bedrooms.

Greer stopped behind and enveloped his wife in his arms, his own head bowed as he offered her safety and solace from whatever she’d seen in the room.

Karen hastened to their sides and followed the path of Greer’s gaze, dreading what she’d see. Sure enough, a pair of boys’ tennis shoes dangled in the air as if still being worn by its ghostly owner. Autumn leaves littered the carpet below them. Five years prior, the Winston boy had hung himself from the ceiling fan in that room. Trouble was his spirit hadn’t seemed to want to leave nor did it want to share the house with new owners. Karen cursed the couple’s untimely arrival before she’d had a chance to properly ward the house.

“I’m so sorry.” Karen searched for an explanation to offer, but nothing plausible came to mind.

“It’s gold! Gold carpet.” A cackle rose from Greer’s jacket as Susan lifted her head from where she’d buried it against her husband’s chest. “Oh my God. I’m so relieved.”

“You’re…relieved?” Karen again peeked inside the room. The shoes and leaves had disappeared. And the carpet was gold, as it always had been.

“We wondered why the house was so cheap.” Susan pointed to the floor. A bubble of laughter that bordered on hysteria echoed off the dead white walls of the room. “It’s absolutely hideous, and…we’ll take it.”