Chapter 1

Written by: A_Jamwal

 

 

 

 

 

Agatha scanned the man from the tip of his worn-out brogues to the five-day-old stubble that sublimely merged with his sideburns. With her discerning eye, Agatha deduced that this man was definitely not winning against the current economy but with that unflappable ease with which he carried himself he surely was pegging life back to deuce whenever it scored against him.

 

Agatha’s cheeks turned red as she caught the smirky hint in his eyes. “He must be enjoying the fact that a grown up like me got duped by his ten year old.”

 

“Hello. I am Scott. Tom’s old man.” He charmingly killed the awkwardness as he reached out.

 

Hesitant, Agatha shook his hand. She had to admonish her “19 year-old” inner-self for checking the boxes. Tall, rugged, struggler, strong: check, check check! 

 

“Please come in Miss?”

 

She was seasoned enough to not even try to fall for the typical ‘handsome guy turning into a weirdo’ trap.

 

“Agatha.” she sternly replied. “Why did Thomas run away when he heard your voice?” There was a tilt in her neck as her left eyebrow arched.

 

Scott broke into a gentle laugh. With beaming eyes he asked…

 

“Do you have kids Agatha?”

 

“No.”

 

“Then hear me out. All those who think that teenage girls are difficult to parent, believe me they have no idea what it’s like to bring up a prodigy of various disciplines. It’s like he knows everything.” Scott sighed in disbelief.

 

“What about the other kids?” Agatha interrogated, trying hard not to believe Scott’s words.

 

“There are no others, Agatha. Tom is the only one.”

 

Scott laughed as if he knew Agatha’s eyes would stretch that wide apart.

 

“Please come in. I was preparing fresh fruit salad for myself. I’ll explain everything. Please, I insist.”

 

Agatha took a moment to think and then followed Scott inside the dinky little duplex. “Please.” He offered to take her leather messenger bag and directed her towards the futon in front of the TV. Agatha didn’t resist the hospitality and ensconced herself. Scott went to the adjoining studio kitchen and started slicing mangoes, watermelon and papaya. 

 

“How about some coffee? I love coffee with fruit.” He looked at her with gleaming eyes.

 

Not completely, but Agatha did lower her guard a bit. She smiled back. “I would love….”

 

A loud and nasty bang didn’t let the coffee, or other things, brew.

 

HELP ME!

 

It was kid’s cry and it came from the room above, followed by some more bangs on the door.

 

Agatha looked at the door then at Scott, who looked back with eyes as innocent and shocked as hers. But what really froze Agatha’s spine was his tightened grip on the hilt of that big shiny blade.

 

“Shit! I should have really called the Police."

 

 

Comments

So, now we have the beginnings of some romantic tension between Agatha and Scott. Nice!
I love the fact that even after writing this chapter, I have no clue what's going on or what might happen. It is absolutely insane...Loving it. Thanks for appreciating Donna
Wow ... a build up in the romantic direction, and then the hilt of a blade! Gripping piece Abhimanyu. Well done!
Hey! Thank you Sameer. .
What makes this a good solid piece of writing is the opening paragraph painting a picture we can engage with. Notice how the description of Scott is further threaded through the rest of the chapter. And then we start getting into Agatha's feelings and then one naughty word that she utters gives us a further impression of her make-up. Naughty words have use in modern literature as long as they illuminate the character's background and are not used for a gratuatus shock. Abhimanyu has written a chapter that does more than add to a story. It also shows the writer's command of the English language. A solid work. Well done, Sir.
What a stunning line: ...unflappable ease with which he carried himself he surely was pegging life back to deuce whenever it scored against him.

Just when we were relaxing with Scott we were shocked out of our complacency. What a perfect twist with him cutting fruit up with a knife. Great metaphor.