Alright that was kinda——lame. But seriously I want to demonstrate the art of conversation, well written conversation. The kind that shows the internal thinking of a person; in which if you the reader was in the story you wouldn’t know the difference from causal conversation. For example here is a scene from characters based from the comic book ShadowKill issue #1:
The night air was especially crisp this night, the fluttering of loose leaves made way on the cobber-stone street. The smell of old trash was very apparent from the tax cut polices of the city. No trash men available on Monday, Wednesday, or Friday.
Today unfortunately was Friday with Wednesday being a holiday.
It didn’t matter to this man, an unkempt, middle age smoking his third cigarette in the past 30 minutes. He pushed through the dirt stained wooden door, so soiled that the first color of tan was displaying an auburn tone. He mumble to himself as he entered the building, “What a day, drinks on me Glenn.”
“Hey Glenn, SIT YOUR ASS DOWN!!”
“Fuck you Jerry,” snapped Glenn. “Give me the hard shit!”
He sat down at the bar, his favorite stool glaring ahead at the numerous liquor bottles station directly in front of him. It was his favorite place, next to the door, by the television and of course—-near the liquor.
“Another day of shit huh,” asked Jerry as he gave Glenn his glass of whiskey straight.
“Something like that,” retorted Glenn as he took a major sip of his whiskey. “Fucking Ghost Squad are a pain.”
“Yep, them again.”
Jerry use this conversation, Ghost Squard running amok, shooting and killing without restraint. He heard it for the past 2 years, more so after that tragic day. That day was nearing soon.
“Glenn, this coming Saturday is….”
“I know Jerry.”
Jerry took a deep breath as he cover his eyes for a second as he turned the television off, setting up for the seriousness of his next statement.
“I know you know, I am here for you man.”
“Yes……,” mutter Glenn as he finish his whiskey, nearly slumping so low he almost fell off his stool.
His friend grabbed him from behind.
“Fuck Gerald, good catch,” exclaimed Jerry as his arms were just a tad late from grasping Glenn!
“Yeah, I know it’s that time again.”
Gerald glanced at his friend’s eyes, very bloodshot as he muttered something too him. His lips quivered with no sounds, very dry and weak.
He couldn’t understand a word he said.
“Glenn, let me take you home,” remarked Gerald softly. “You haven’t slept in days again.”
This will be the first of a series of conversations with characters who have deep-rooted issues and friends who try to pull it out of them. This will be an introduction of important people in the world of ShadowKill, Midwest City’s own that even innocent ones drown in corruption of hearts…
A little too poetic to end this but stay tune and thanks for reading..