Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-9584883-20141212152912

This is a story about a very minor character in my story "Summer in Texas" in which he is a rookie Sherrifs deputy. We learn almost nothing about him then. This takes place 17 years later after S.I.T. I'm writing a follow up on every character from S.I.T. I welcome any feedback, positive or negitive critiscism. Again, I've just started. Prescisely when I could use feedback as to wether or not it's going well. I don't even have a titile yet or know how long it will be.

The downtown night air was crisp and cool with the slight aroma of misery. He never thought that his life would turn out the way it did. The Wife, the kid, the pride, all lost along the way, somewhere in the belly of the big, bad city, where they would never   again age, remaining   forever young, beautiful and full of grace. He still saw them in everything and everyone. A Homicide Investigators life is never something called happily ever after. Everyday Detective Chris Priest woke up, looked up and asked why the fuck was he still around to do it all over again. It was his punishment you see, his penance was waking up without them, still trying to make a dent of difference in this city on fire.

Staring out his window, he poured a quarter glass of Jim Beam and asked himself in the famous words of The Clash: Should I stay, or should I Rock the Kasbah? The familiar metallic taste of the colt 45 made things real at that moment. It was fear that kept him from biting the bullet. Yet, it was also his lack of fear that kept him afloat another day, doing what he did best, the only thing he cared about anymore. Fear was for the enemy, Fear and bullets.

What little faith he had left hung on like a loose string. One would think Chris would have completely and utterly lost his essence, his humanity… all in a brilliant flash of ‘Fuck You’ dished out by fate. Much had occurred in his life since he swore in and began serving as a rookie Sherriff’s Deputy in Lytle Texas 17 years ago. However, in the midst of all the glory, the coolness and the climbing, Chris had his number 1 with a bullet, Abby. She was firecrackers on the 4th. They never pulled any punches, loving, laughing, living, fucking.

It was February. The view from Chris’s downtown window was covered in white, a rarity. The last time it really snowed in San Antonio was back in 1985 when he was 10 years old. He recalled that day with a warm fuzzy feeling. He and his best friend were pulled out of school together so that they may go home and enjoy playing in the snow, where they would build snowmen and partake in the clichéd snowball fight with their parents. It would be one of the best days of his existence. He liked to go there often when life chewed him up and spit him out. He wished they were by his side now. They would all enjoy the day off and play just as he did so long ago. His stare blurred into tears.  