Story Week: "Fancy That" Part I

Good Morning, Boys and Girls...

It's Story Week.

These aren't actually stories.

They are interesting character sketches, arising from a storyline that I've had on file for a couple of years. I have had a few "A-ha!" moments lately, and wrote up some character sketches, some "snapshots" if I must say, of what some of the characters are thinking about at this moment or time in their lives. (Does that make sense?)

Additionally, my writing class starts back up soon, on August 30th. This is my third time taking the six week course, which focuses on developing ideas and characters... I found that it is helpful to have some character sketches or short pieces lying around for use in class assignments, and I plan on utilizing some of these people for my assignments. I even, to my own suprise, have a pretty good storyline developed for them, and even a few scenes written out.

Yes, the Oldgirl thinks ahead!! Gotta do that when I work 40+ hours a week!!

Really though.

I passed these character sketches out at work to my elite critique team and my blog sistas, and uh... let's just say that they generated MUCH interesting conversation amongst us all. I had a lot of moments of "Yeah, right there... that's the missing link I'm looking for!"

So as a result, I am posting them. Thought they may make you... think.

This is essentially my way of thinking out loud. The last story week generated some nice comments, and gave me some great ideas... even clearing up some problem spots I'd run into. Much obliged to those who commented:)

So, a little background for you... This is the Reese family. Paulette and Deacon Arthur Reese are the parents of Portia Reese, who is 33 years old. I would suppose that Paulette and Arthur are in their mid-fifties. Portia Reese has one child, Shuntae Reese, who is 13 years old.

Paulette and Arthur Reese live a quiet life in Fitzgerald, a small town about 2 hours south of Atlanta. Their daughter and granddaughter live in Atlanta.

That's all I got to say about that. Yes, it is sparse information. I will post 1 character sketch a day, with an afterword sprinkled here and there. Read the character sketches to catch more information... 3 are pretty short, but one is long (Deacon Arthur Reese, which will be up tomorrow.) These are rough drafts, and they have been toned waaay down for the blog. (LOL!)

The name of the actual story is "Fancy THAT." But, I'm not using these in a story, although they would make up an interesting prologue. I am drawing the story from these, though.

Would be interested to know what you think.

So here we go...

Paulette Reese

Sex with the Deacon was not my favorite pastime.

It was sort of like sitting up on that cold hard metal table at the doctor's office, and watching him ease closer with a huge hyperdermic needle full of whatever was needed to get me well or keep me well for that matter. I wince, turn my head, and squint my eyes shut in anticipation of a pain like no other.

But then there’s only the momentary sting, and the hard sucking in of air.
And then it’s all over.

Much like sex with the Deacon.

If I would have been remotely interested, I would’ve known that he was what most women would call a good lover, a lover like no other. Any other woman would have been happy with his stamina and touch.

But not me.

I never thought of him as he lay there on top of me, thrusting back and forth. I braced myself, closed my eyes tight, and allowed my mind to slip far far away into thoughts and memories of another.

The Deacon had my body. Afterall, that is what the Lord commanded of a wife.

But another had my heart.

Eventually, the Deacon couldn’t take it anymore. I didn’t blame him. I didn’t have it in my heart to fake or moan or move to his rhythm. It was all so foreign to me. One night, he just stopped in mid-motion. I opened one eye and spied him. A swatch of moonlight cut across his face. A drop of sweat clung just on the tip of his nose.

“Look, Paulette, we don’t have to do this no more,” he’d said. He slid out of me and sat back on his legs. “I’ll go on in the other room.”

I didn't speak. Only watched as he rose from the bed that cold winter night in 1997, found his robe and slowly walked out the door into the spare bedroom.

Some ten years later he has yet to return. And I didn’t ask him to.

We lead our separate lives in the house. He sleeps in the spare bedroom, has made it his own.

I sleep alone in my bed. It is my own.

We are pillars of the community, leaders in our church. Arthur is the head Deacon. I'm head of the Usher board, I read the announcements every Sunday. I am currently Church superintendent. Pastor is about to name a new church Elder since Elder Blanche Taylor died, and everybody’s been telling me that I’m next in line.

I can hardly contain my excitement.

It would be all the better if the one who has my heart was here to share it with me.