Most Dreaded Scene

For our fifth assignment, our writing teacher asked us to write the scene we are dreading the most. He said, with a chuckle, that it is usually the sex scene that every writer dreads most, but as we were going to be talking about each other's work in class, we ought to be careful which scene we choose. I have chosen to write my opening scenes, not necessarily because I am most afraid to write them, but because they are what will draw in a reader. I want the first scenes to be appetite-whetting. I'm talking "this-book-is-worth-$22-bucks-for-the-hardcover-cause-it-sounds-that-awesome" good.
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Chapter One

I’m getting too old for this, Alistair thought to himself as he ran through the dark, close streets of Florence.

One hundred and sixty-seven is far too old.

His red velvet cap had long since flown from his head. His red velvet mantel, all the rage only hours before, now trailed behind him like a superhero’s cape as he attempted to outrun the Medici guards.

His cane caught on a cobblestone and wrenched his arm backwards. Over his shoulder he saw that his pursuers were catching up quickly.

He ducked down an alley and hid in a doorway to rest, feeling sure that it couldn’t be much longer until sundown.

Doubled over, hands on his thighs, he sucked air in deep huffs. He tried to control the sound of his breathing but, at his age, and after a half-mile sprint, it was a biological imperative he could not control.

He knew the men who were chasing him would find him at any minute. His only hope was that minute would be one minute too late.

With profound relief he felt the familiar sinking sensation that signaled safety and was falling back into his living room.

“That is the last time!” he shouted to the empty room, one hand holding his heaving chest and the other groping for his armchair. “I’m finished! I can not run anymore!”

Instantly he was engulfed by the sensation of contracting into himself and then expanding like an exploding star. His racing heart quieted, his muscles slackened and he felt a physical lightness he didn’t recognize.

It wasn’t the first time he had, in a moment of frustration, said that he was through, but it was the first time that he had ever really meant it.

With a twinge of regret tempered with acceptance he knew instinctively that he was finally free and that he had, in fact, been free all along. He only had to choose it. Somehow he hadn’t expected it to be so sudden.

He remembered the Mentor’s words. Soon the stone would call him to journey to visit his successor; the person to whom he would become the Mentor. When this final journey was complete, he could die.

The thought brought him such incredible relief that he got up, suddenly lighter on his feet, and poured himself a celebratory scotch.

Chapter Two

Evie Wells poked at the seaweed salad in her bento box with one chopstick. Her best friend, Sidd, watched her from the other side of the table, eyebrows raised, waiting for her to reenter the atmosphere.

Finally he interrupted her endless fascination with the slimy green strips. “You are dissecting your lunch like a frog in biology class.”

Evie looked up and set down her chopstick.

He smiled. “You know, Eves, you have to use two of them to actually pick up food.”

“Very funny.” She grimaced. “I’m not hungry today.”

“What’s the matter?”

She shrugged.

“Well, it must be something serious, because you usually eat like a horse when you’re sad or stressed.”

“Thanks, that’s nice.”

“I’m trying to cheer you up.”

“Only a boy would think that reminding a girl she eats like a horse is a great way to cheer her up.”

“Fine, throw me a bone here. I’m trying to be sensitive but I’m about to start talking about the Patriots.”

“Oh no!” Evie threw up her hands in mock surrender. “Not the Patriots! I’ll talk!” Her laugh quickly melted back into a frown. “I’m just bummed because I don’t get to go home for Christmas. Christmas Eve is tomorrow and normally I’d be on a plane headed for Texas right now.”

“Do you need money?”

“No! It’s not that. My parents have to go to Branson to be with grandpa at the nursing home. We decided I’d stay here over Christmas and go home later.”

“Did we decide or did you decide to save your mom the task of entertaining you while she deals with her ailing father.”

“Hey, I’m just doing what makes most sense. She doesn’t need me hanging around pining for turkey and stuffing. It’s really hard on her to watch Grandpa lose himself.”

“Evie, somehow you make selflessness one of the most annoying traits you possess.”

“Whatever.”

“I’m serious, every once in a while, you’ve got to do what makes you happy, no matter how it affects your family, friends, perfect strangers, stray animals, and/or the planet.”

En route to his open mouth, Sidd’s oatmeal raisin cookie was suddenly snatched out of his hand and devoured. “Hey!!”

“That made me happy.” Evie smiled a cookie-filled grin.

He looked bereft, hands upturned and empty. “Now you owe me a cookie.” Evie immediately reached for her wallet.

“Evangeline Wells, do NOT go buy me a cookie. You’ll negate the selfish act if you replace what you stole. Clearly we need to have weekly lessons.”

Evie punched him in the arm and stood up. “I better get back to work.” She pulled on her gloves and her hat.

“You know I’d invite you to Christmas at my house, but, being Hindu, it would pretty much look like any other night at the Sikandar residence.”

Evie laughed, “Thanks, but Nikki and Colleen have both invited me to their Christmases. I just don’t want to crash anybody’s family party.”

“Of course you don’t.” Sidd rolled his eyes as he opened the Teaism door and walked out into the wet street.

Evie followed him into the bitter cold. “Thanks a lot for cheering me up, Sidd, I feel much better. Now besides being lonely for Texas, I feel like a total loser.”

Sidd’s face fell. “Evie.”

“See ya tonight.” Evie turned to the right to head back to the museum.

“Eves, you know I…”

“It’s cool.” She said over her shoulder. “See you tonight.”

Sidd watched her walk away and then turned to the left toward Capitol Hill.