10:44 pm - Now where'd that come from? So I'm sitting here at work when a, well, a vision pops into my head:
A man drags himself along a darkened street. He's wounded, gunshot(s?) to the leg. The street is dark partially because it is night, but even the normal light pollution of the city is darkened here. As if something is sucking the light out of the area. He has his back against a brick building and the bricks catch on the sweater he's wearing. He can feel the grit of concrete beneath his hands and the warmth of the blood leaking from his wound(s). He's afraid of something and trying to escape it, but it's something more than whomever, or whatever shot him.
I was idly wondering about my propensity to create detailed characters in vivid settings who have, sadly, little motivation to actually do something. I think Fred caught that and spat up a character with some motivation (at least in the short term: get away!).
Now to dredge up the rest of the story. Who and what is this person afraid of? Why was he shot? How does he escape? Does he escape? Current Mood: creative