Below is a short extract from the beginning of the first Chapter of a Novel I have been writing.
It is a work in progress and I have written a lot more than this (10 Chapters). Genre? It is a thriller (or at least I hope ). Would like to share this with you and know if you would be interested in reading more.
Capacité by Nadia Murtaza
Chapter 1 - The Speckled Sky
The sky’s dark and closed off curtains rested heavy on his weary eyes. He remembered what things were like just the day before; regular, normal, ordinary, dull. The sirens blaring through his ears, crackling at his bleeding drums brought him to his feet again. It was time to run.
David was a thirty-one year old Englishman from Sussex living in the Madeliene district of Paris. He worked as an accountant for a well known chain of wine shops (he had no interest in wine. To be perfectly frank, he had no interest in France). He was transferred by partners - the pay was good, all expenses covered travelling between Paris and London up to seven times a year and a housing allowance that left him worry free. You could call his life boring – he woke up, stopped at the tourist-ridden patisserie for his morning croissant every morning and struggled to maintain any real grasp of the French language. Women noticed him but he was disinterested, the effort of a social life was daunting for him. His build medium, he dressed well – almost fashionable with out so much as realizing. He didn’t aspire to much. Just enough money to survive, a TV to watch and a sandwich press that wouldn’t burn the grilled cheese he ate every night.
His hair was brown and mousy – childlike. His eyes large and slanted in a cloudy, slightly glazed over blue; he didn’t smile very often, but when he did, it was clear that in his teen years he had been a patient of a very successful orthodontist. To the naked eye he was good looking, so far as being handsome, but his hunched over soldiers, brisk walk and cold pavement staring gaze contradicted his otherwise attractive exterior.
October 2nd was audit day. Davids busiest day of the year. Sometimes, he felt that this day gave his life a purpose. His alarm was set for two extra early snoozes that morning. Pointless as he knew he would be up before either of them would even go off. The sky was flaked with a grey pollutant mist, “brilliant” he muttered to himself whilst slurping on his black, bitter, burnt coffee. Slamming the door of his modest Parisian flat he caught the metro an hour earlier than usual. The office was quiet when he arrived, thankfully – he couldn’t stand the sound of Justines whining voice describing the amazing weekend she had had on the Rue’s. It was the same every Monday. In a thick, obnoxious Provence accent “ And then, before I even knew it, he was kissing me.” By Wednesday, he was always a married man . David thought Justine was beautiful. Her luscious long locks of auburn hair and vivd green eyes; but then she would open her mouth and it physically repulsed him.
No comments:
Post a Comment