I need to start writing fiction. Well, I guess I don’t need to, but it is another style of writing in which I am interested. When I was a child, I imagined myself writing novels and short stories. You all, then, will have to be my test rats. My apologies in advance. I am not coming to this completely unprepared though. I spent some time last week outlining a character in which to write about. I have also been pondering various scenarios in which to place said character. All that could be thrown out the window when I actually start writing.
So here we go. This is the first installment of NCR Fiction. I was going to use something like Fiction Friday, but then I thought, “What if I don’t feel like writing fiction on Friday?” Plus, today is Wednesday so it would just throw everything off. Be flexible. That’s what Elasti-Girl says.
The morning sun poured throw his second story window. He hadn’t even opened his eyes yet and he was already squinting. Not a great way to start his first morning in his first new apartment, but he didn’t care. Nothing could ruin this day. He rolled off his queen sized mattress and fell about ten inches onto the floor. A bed frame, although important, was not high on his priority list yet. He kicked off his sleeping bag, stood up and made his way into the bathroom to take care of the necessities.
He took a long proud look at himself in the mirror. He did it. He was one month out of college and already starting his career in a new city. He had his own apartment, and was ready to let the world know who he was. Technically it wasn’t his apartment yet. His parents paid the first and last’s month’s rent, but it wouldn’t be long before his paycheck covered everything. He had it all planned out. He made a budget. He would have enough for rent, a car payment, insurance, groceries, a cell phone, gym membership, and internet. Plus, he would have leftover money each month to put towards new clothes, furniture, and savings.
Slowly, but surely, he planned to piece together the rooms in the apartment with brand new furniture, a flat screen TV, surround sound, a bedroom set, all the kitchen stuff he would ever need, artwork for the walls, and a bathroom set. Oh yeah, and window treatments. This was going to be the perfect apartment. No longer would he wear hand-me-down clothes or sleep on a bed bought at a garage sale. He wouldn’t ever have to endure leaky windows or share bedroom with family members. He would be on his own, in charge of his own life, living the way he wanted to live. He worked his ass off for 6 years in school. He spent his weekends studying instead of partying, well most weekends anyway. OK, he spent like half his weekends studying instead of partying. After all, he was in a fraternity. He had certain responsibilities and obligations to be at certain social functions. Regardless, he took his education seriously. He deserved this. He has a college degree and a MBA. He earned everything he ever had, except for what his parents, grandparents, and older brothers gave him. His parents worked hard, but they never made crap for money, especially since they had four kids. He swore his life life wasn’t going to be like their life. He was going to make something of himself. He was going to matter. He was going to be remembered. That’s what he told himself when he looked into the mirror each day.
He got ready for the day. It was an easy day. It was Sunday. He started his new job on Monday. He grabbed a pop tart, threw it in the microwave, and headed out. The plan was to explore his new world and figure out where everything was.