Character: The Story of S

There are events that happen around a writer daily that he obtains for his craft. Those things could include something he heard on the radio, the bus ride to work, or perhaps just an instance that happened during his day. Of those happenings that the writer obtains, he takes away key characteristics from any of those happenings, like the setting, lighting, moods, or quite possibly a full-blown character analysis as he leaves the event.

This happened to me just the other day and all of those things were required for me to think about the situation, its characteristics, and what I could possibly take away from it. I met someone the other day, we shall call her S, and to sum up her initial character trait can only be named as pain in the arse. There really is no other way to describe her character when you first meet her. Even in the same method that I met S.

I do not plan on giving out the details of why I met this woman, but rather the details that I took away from the situation as a writer and soon to be scholar of the English language. I write fictitious stories in my spare time, and I am always looking for character building experiences such as the one in this article.

So, getting back to S, I should first tell you I met S on the telephone, four times, before meeting traditionally face to face. Yes, I said four times, in the same day, in the same part of the day, three of those times in the same hour. S rambled to say the least, giving me the customer demands and a deep forewarning of what was about to happen. S informed me that when I made the delivery that I had offered to make, that the apartment that S was living in was covered in boxes, and books, and clutter. Big deal, I thought. That was the third phone call that I received from S.

The fourth was an indirect message from the person answering the phones that day telling me the name of S’s apartments, even though I informed S that I had a wonderful invention called GPS and I had all the information I needed to make a delivery to S’s apartment.

So I set off to S’s apartment, package in the backseat of my car and upon my arrival, I found S hanging outside a basement apartment window motioning me to go through the door. Now, if I forgot to mention that S has special needs, there is a specific reason for that, as I shall foretell now.

After waiting for five minutes waiting for S to figure out that the intercom was not the door buzzer, I finally buzzed a nearby neighbor to let me inside. I followed the maze of apartment doors until I reached the number etched my post it note. S opened the door...
To be continued…..



Nicholas McGirr
Book One: The Growing Dim Project
Life of Death