So, a while back was the writing challenge of “Muse in the Masters” (based off the picture Nighthawk) and I had an almost perfect plot and I was super excited to write it down. Then I started, as you’ll see below, and ground to a halt. To me, writing it began to drag on and I hadn’t figured out the end I was headed for. But instead of keeping my semi-failed attempt to myself I’ve decided to show you anyway.
Her sensible heels tap tap taped along the pavement. She was running late. Her shadow flitted along, flipping back and forth as she passed each streetlight. Marty would be furious.
She was supposed to arrive early enough to carefully observe those who entered the all-nighter after the streets emptied in the evening. Well, the streets were empty now, and she was still a few blocks away.
Some short time later she stood beside the glass double-doors leading in to the drink bar. She glanced in to the store and then out to the streets, appearing indecisive. She turned, setting her hand to pull, but paused
again to look up and down the street once more. The street was still empty. She reluctantly moved in to the establishment, a tinkling bell announcing her presents.
“What can I do you for miss?” Asked the (bar tender) right away. The whole place was empty.
“Oh, umm,” she stuttered, looking startled. Then she laughed, “I thought you would be busier in here. It is every other time I’ve passed by.”
She maneuvered around the wood bar to choose, rather arbitrarily, a seat far from the door.
“I don’ know what’s with the good people o’ this city. Some nights they flock in here like it’s a weddin’ pardy and others it’s near as a graveyard.”
“Well, now that I’ve had a moment to think, I believe I’ll have one of those milkshakes,” she said, pointing to the advertisement behind the counter.
“Ahh yes, we make the best milkshakes this side o’ the city!” He announced as he mixed it. “But don’ go a tellin’ those folks on 7th street, they think they’ve got the best and it ain’t so.” He finished mixing and settled the glass on the counter in front of her with a flourish. “Here ya’ are, miss! Oh, by the way, my name is Marty.”
She nearly choked on her first sip, coughing a little.
“You alright, miss?” Concern in his voice as he handed her a napkin.
“Yes, yes. I’m fine. It’s just,” she paused, looking him in the eye, “a funny coincidence. I came here tonight to meet a friend of mine, whom I haven’t seen in years, and,” another pause, “his name is Marty too.”
“Well I’ll be!” He exclaimed jovially, rocking back on his heels, but something in his eye had sharpened, almost suspiciously. “Well I been waiting for some peoples to visit me. What be your name? I may have a friend who may be you.”
She laughed at his last statement, then blushed. “My name is Scarlett Rose. My parents were quite original don’t you think?” As she struck a pose.
He laughed too. Her hair was red and curly and she wore a red dress and, at the moment, her cheeks were a matching shade as well.
“I’m afraid I ain’t got no friends name of Scarlet Rose, but if you’d like we could become friends.”
The plot I had planned was that Scarlett was a secret agent meeting with another secret agent (Marty) to figure out who was the “evil agent” in the soda shop. She wouldn’t know who Marty was though. He actually wouldn’t show up. Maybe. And she would capture the “evil agent” by herself. Or with one strangers help. The bar tender would either be the real Marty or the “evil agent”. The one guy who is sitting by Scarlett would appear to be Marty but would actually be evil.
Yeah it’s confusing even for me who thunk it up.