The Man in Room Eighteen...A Snippet

This week has been a hit and miss week for power. The raging storm has meant I stayed indoors and organised my research notes. The research has had DH and I recalling our youth in our home town. It has been an interesting project.

My problem with The Man in Room Eighteen has been characters. I only had one; Elle Buchanan. She is a sixteen year old girl abandoned by her parents. I an now pleased to say during her four day search for them she met three minor characters, one who I have an inclining will become a mid-major link in her life. Dear Elle is made homeless (it appears I do not treat my female characters kindly). She finds shelter and a friend...


(Taken from a very rough first draft)

The door Elle had propped up overnight fell with a crash. Dust and debris sprayed her as she jumped from her makeshift bed.

‘Who’s there?’ She called out in the serious hope there was nobody at all outside.

Please don’t let it be the landlord. Calm down. How could he find you here?

‘Stanley Orris.’ Came the surprise response.

‘Stay where you are. Don’t come in.’ Elle called as she pulled on her chemise and dress. She rushed to the door and peeked outside. She couldn’t see anyone.

‘Err, Stanley. Stanley Orris?’ She called out.

‘Over here.’ Came the reply from the right hand side of the hut.

‘What do you want?’ Elle shouted out against the wind.

‘Why are you here?’ The voice called back.

‘Come round here where I can see you.’

Elle heard shuffling as Stanley Orris came from his hiding place.

‘You gave me a scare. I sheltered here for the night. I...’

Elle stopped talking as a young man limped towards her. He carried a bucket in one hand and the other was tucked inside his black jacket pocket. He leaned heavy to the right and a large, red jagged scar ran from his right eyebrow down to his chin, just clipping the edge of his lips.

‘Why are you here? Are you lost?’ The strange looking male asked.

‘Not exactly. What have you got in the bucket?. Elle changed the subject. She did not want to give too much away. The less people knew, the less they could talk about her. It was safer that way.

‘Crabs.’ Was the response to her question. ‘Do you eat crabs?’

The wind whistled around the hut and Elle began to shiver. A crab would be a treat fit for a queen, but she knew if she was to stand any chance of obtaining one she would have to be friendly to her visitor.

‘It’s freezing out here. You can come inside if you like. I have a small fire burning.’

She returned inside and waited for the shuffle of feet to start again. There was nothing attractive about the creature entering the room, but Elle sensed she was in no danger.

‘Sit on the mattress if you want.’

‘So what are you doing here?’

Elle walked over to the bucket.

‘Gosh. There are a lot in here. Did you catch them all this morning?’

Stanley shook his head. ‘I earned them.’

‘How did you earn them? What is your work?’ Elle could not imagine him capable of any work with his crippled legs.

‘I clean the fishing smacks in exchange for a bucket of the catch. Today they had more crabs than fish. Mother will be pleased. Fond of crabs she is.’

Elle was pleased with how she had managed to move the conversation away from her again. She perched herself on one of the larger pieces of driftwood.

‘Where do you live? Close by?’

***

Don't you just love the name, Stanley Orris? Who knows where that one sprung from. It could be the fact that I had watched a song from Phantom of the Opera on Youtube last week.

Anyway, Elle and Stanley are going to be friends for some time. He is a good person and helps her along to an improved life. I don't think he is her happy ending though. He has helped me move along to 10,000 words, so I like him very much!

I wonder who I will meet next? This is definitely the work of a panster!