Remember the bumper sticker story?  For this assignment we had to take a line from something written previously and write a little fiction using some of the things we learned in this week’s module about telling a story – conflict, crisis, denouement, resolution. Again, anything I post here is pretty much first draft, to be edited into submission and included in a final portfolio for the class.

You might remember we left our car-snooping heroine at the street corner:  “I put the hula doll in my purse and walk towards the BART station.  At the corner I push the button for the walk light and as I glance back towards the car,  I feel my face go numb and panic surge through my body – he is standing on the sidewalk, looking right at me, with the gun in his hand.”

This is what I decided happened:

It was truly out of character for me to open a total stranger’s car door and start poking around as if it were a museum of my past.  I was a professional woman, a para-legal, and I always followed the rules. I admit this was more out of fear of getting caught than anything else.  From little on I was scared of getting in trouble – I didn’t like being yelled at or hit, and any form of punishment at school meant trouble at home later.  Stealing was out of the question – my parents would have “killed” me.

So it was somewhat like waking up from a dream when the old man caught me with my head in his car, snooping around.  I didn’t even remember making a conscious decision to open the rear door.  He seemed nice at first, grandfatherly even, but then he got kind of creepy, as his smile disappeared from his face and he showed no emotion until I mentioned the photograph.  It was only then he perked up to tell me the story of his living arrangements with his wife, at which point I took the opportunity to say goodbye, accept his gift of the hula doll, which had been my excuse for being in his car at all.  He apparently believed my story that on a ridiculous impulse I had wanted to swipe the hula doll on the dashboard. Perhaps my $100 haircut and office attire had convinced him that I meant no harm, and was just a goofy young girl.   I shook my head slightly and rolled my eyes at myself when I walked away, realizing as I had in our last few moments together that the dude had a gun in the car.  What was I thinking? Oh well, I got caught, but it was okay.  As I walked to the BART station I went on to berate myself for not remembering to take the salmon out of the freezer for dinner and decided to just have popcorn for dinner, since I had missed the first BART anyway I would be later getting home.

When I stopped and pushed the button for the walk light, I looked back and felt my face go numb and panic surge through my body.  He was standing on the sidewalk, looking right at me, with the gun in his hand.  My stomach imploded into a tight knot and I immediately felt tears forming behind my eyes and quickly started to walk towards him, the hula doll now out of my purse and in my outstretched hand so I could give it back.  He just stared straight ahead.  I spoke: “Here!  I’m sorry!  Take the doll!  Are you okay?”  No answer.  I approached closer, and by this time the one or two people in the parking lot had stopped walking and were creeping backwards, crouching down behind cars. I heard the beeps of cell phones being dialed and knew everything would, as usual, turn out just fine, just fine.  “Look I’m really sorry, here’s the doll” I whined like a little girl who left her homework at home and was about to be sent to the principal’s office.   I don’t know why I kept walking towards him, but I couldn’t believe he’d really shoot me – over a hula doll – and I certainly didn’t want to turn my back on him.

As I approached him he grabbed the doll out of my hand and glared at me, his eyes on fire, and started yelling at me that it had been given to him by his wife, and who did I think I was.   I started to back away, apologizing over and over, my voice becoming more desperate.  A rock hit me on my thigh about the same time as I heard a strange “pop” and then I fell.   What they say is true – it takes a minute to realize you’ve been shot.  I seriously could not believe it. I looked down at my tan linen pants and saw the  a bloody mess.  My thigh felt like it was on fire and then no feeling at all. From out of nowhere people were surrounding me, some kneeling, some standing, a man took off his shirt and started blotting my leg.  One woman was screaming “Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!”  “Someone call 911!”  “Miss, are you okay?”  I couldn’t speak;  I only looked at the pretty puffy white cloud straight ahead in the sky and started drifting along with it.  It’s white edges against the blue sky became increasingly sharp, I was aware of voices now but not what they were saying.
The crowd around me fell away and the white cloud was replaced by the snarling face of the man, the gun pointed right at my face.  I knew then that I was going to die on that beautiful day.  I smiled and almost laughed at the absurdity but couldn’t muster the breath, and closed my eyes, not wanting to look at that face anymore.  I felt a thud across my body and opened my eyes, the big man was lying on top of me like we were making a human cross, and over him stood two men, one with his foot on the man’s back and the other putting on cuffs.  I watched as the white cloud became dotted with little black spots and then disappear completely.  (OK, this needs to be reworked  – I didn’t mean to die, only pass out…but it turns out it was confusing to my classmates.  Also, I’m going to change the cops into regular people somehow)