JayFarrell
New member
The plot of my book is a bout a caretaker who goes on a house call and is terrorized by strangers throughout the night. Here is my first chapter :
The Caretaker
Chapter 1- The interview
I nervously tapped the heels of my high shoes on the floor. I fidgeted with my hands as I looked at the clock.
“Ms. Styles,” the clerk from the front desk called. It was as if I could hear her with one ear, while the other replayed my interview lines. “He’s ready.”
I followed the receptionist to a black door at the end of the hallway. I carefully skidded across the wood floor, careful not to scratch it with my high heels.
“Come on in, ummm Sarah it is?” asked the man who sat in front of me.
“Yes, Mr. Franks,” I gently agreed. I sat down at a chair to the right of his desk, staring at him in his swivel chair typing on his prestigious computer.
“Well, hello there,” said Mr. Franks while giving me a toothy grin. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“The pleasure is mine, really,” I said. Mr. Franks gave me a let’s-get-busy expression.
“Now, during phase three of the interview process, we would like to explore the audience you’d like to cater to here at Holy Cross Caretakers.”
“Now, during phase three of the interview process, we would like to explore the audience you’d like to cater to here at Holy Cross Caretakers.”
I didn’t really know what to say to that. I mean, I knew what he meant, I just didn’t know for sure what my answer should’ve been. I knew I couldn’t let myself slip this time though. I had been through many long interview processes only to be shot down.
“You want me to answer that?” I unintelligently mumbled.
You see, the dream of my life had always been to help other people in ill health. I enjoyed putting in my hours for God and working my way towards heaven, just as my parents had dreamed me to. I also had been compelled to help the elderly ever since my grandparents had died when I was just a young child. The cause of death was never uttered to me, but I know it was a tragedy. I have always felt as though I have a sixth sense, or a way to sniff danger from a mile away.
“That is part of the interview process Ms. Styles,” Mr. Franks assured me.
“Well, I am interested in working with the elderly,” I blurted out.
This wasn’t necessarily true, though it wasn’t necessarily false.
“And can you tell me what your interest is in that division? Your resume says that you are Red Cross certified.”
“Well, caretaking to me is like finding a child a new home,” I said. “You get attached to seeing the smiling faces when the day ends, especially with seniors who would have possibly been on the last leg of their life.”
“I see,” said Mr. Franks. He turned his attention to his computer for a minute, typed a few words, and then looked back up at me.
“I have referral letters in my purse.”
“May I see them, please?” asked Mr. Franks.
“Sure.”
I opened my bag and took out the letters, then handed them to him. He nodded and flipped through the pages of stapled, typed out letters from friends and family. He pulled a piece of paper from his desk drawer and slapped in down on the desk in front of me.
“We received a referral from a Mrs. Banks in our mailbox the other day,” said Mr. Franks.
Mrs. Banks? No way, that was my grandmother. My grandmother was dead and I know that much for a fact. She died long before I learned my alphabet, let alone to watch me develop ambitions.
“This must be a mistake,” I said, handing him the letter.
“I am afraid not,” he said.
“I know I didn’t bring this letter today,” I stated.
“Oh, you are entirely right about that,” Mr. Franks assured me. “It came in our mailbox just a couple of days ago.
Was I losing my mind? It must have been a different Mrs. Banks. I couldn’t think of a Mrs. Banks I knew, not even a Banks family. My spine tingled at the thought of my grandmother falling to her death.
“May I read this letter?” I asked.
“Well, that is the problem,” Mr. Franks told me. “The letter is blank.”
“I have no idea what this is about, but I can assure you I don’t know a Mrs. Banks at the moment,” I said.
“If you insist,” Mr. Frank muttered.
I could tell I was blowing the interview. Not only did I look like a lunatic, but my facts weren’t in order. I made it look as though I was coming up with ideas of success by completely guessing. I waited a couple of minutes to be escorted out by the secretary, but to my delight, Mr. Franks skimmed the referral letters once more.
“Well, people sure do have good things to say about you.”
“One can only hope,” I managed to spit out with a small sigh.
“I will tell you one thing,” Mr. Franks started. “I do see the determination in you.”
I couldn’t believe it! He was actually starting to take me seriously!
“Well, thank you sir,” I said with a smile. My heart fluttered with joy in a pitter-patter beat.
“No need to thank me,” Mr. Franks said, returning my smile. “You are the one with
The Caretaker
Chapter 1- The interview
I nervously tapped the heels of my high shoes on the floor. I fidgeted with my hands as I looked at the clock.
“Ms. Styles,” the clerk from the front desk called. It was as if I could hear her with one ear, while the other replayed my interview lines. “He’s ready.”
I followed the receptionist to a black door at the end of the hallway. I carefully skidded across the wood floor, careful not to scratch it with my high heels.
“Come on in, ummm Sarah it is?” asked the man who sat in front of me.
“Yes, Mr. Franks,” I gently agreed. I sat down at a chair to the right of his desk, staring at him in his swivel chair typing on his prestigious computer.
“Well, hello there,” said Mr. Franks while giving me a toothy grin. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“The pleasure is mine, really,” I said. Mr. Franks gave me a let’s-get-busy expression.
“Now, during phase three of the interview process, we would like to explore the audience you’d like to cater to here at Holy Cross Caretakers.”
“Now, during phase three of the interview process, we would like to explore the audience you’d like to cater to here at Holy Cross Caretakers.”
I didn’t really know what to say to that. I mean, I knew what he meant, I just didn’t know for sure what my answer should’ve been. I knew I couldn’t let myself slip this time though. I had been through many long interview processes only to be shot down.
“You want me to answer that?” I unintelligently mumbled.
You see, the dream of my life had always been to help other people in ill health. I enjoyed putting in my hours for God and working my way towards heaven, just as my parents had dreamed me to. I also had been compelled to help the elderly ever since my grandparents had died when I was just a young child. The cause of death was never uttered to me, but I know it was a tragedy. I have always felt as though I have a sixth sense, or a way to sniff danger from a mile away.
“That is part of the interview process Ms. Styles,” Mr. Franks assured me.
“Well, I am interested in working with the elderly,” I blurted out.
This wasn’t necessarily true, though it wasn’t necessarily false.
“And can you tell me what your interest is in that division? Your resume says that you are Red Cross certified.”
“Well, caretaking to me is like finding a child a new home,” I said. “You get attached to seeing the smiling faces when the day ends, especially with seniors who would have possibly been on the last leg of their life.”
“I see,” said Mr. Franks. He turned his attention to his computer for a minute, typed a few words, and then looked back up at me.
“I have referral letters in my purse.”
“May I see them, please?” asked Mr. Franks.
“Sure.”
I opened my bag and took out the letters, then handed them to him. He nodded and flipped through the pages of stapled, typed out letters from friends and family. He pulled a piece of paper from his desk drawer and slapped in down on the desk in front of me.
“We received a referral from a Mrs. Banks in our mailbox the other day,” said Mr. Franks.
Mrs. Banks? No way, that was my grandmother. My grandmother was dead and I know that much for a fact. She died long before I learned my alphabet, let alone to watch me develop ambitions.
“This must be a mistake,” I said, handing him the letter.
“I am afraid not,” he said.
“I know I didn’t bring this letter today,” I stated.
“Oh, you are entirely right about that,” Mr. Franks assured me. “It came in our mailbox just a couple of days ago.
Was I losing my mind? It must have been a different Mrs. Banks. I couldn’t think of a Mrs. Banks I knew, not even a Banks family. My spine tingled at the thought of my grandmother falling to her death.
“May I read this letter?” I asked.
“Well, that is the problem,” Mr. Franks told me. “The letter is blank.”
“I have no idea what this is about, but I can assure you I don’t know a Mrs. Banks at the moment,” I said.
“If you insist,” Mr. Frank muttered.
I could tell I was blowing the interview. Not only did I look like a lunatic, but my facts weren’t in order. I made it look as though I was coming up with ideas of success by completely guessing. I waited a couple of minutes to be escorted out by the secretary, but to my delight, Mr. Franks skimmed the referral letters once more.
“Well, people sure do have good things to say about you.”
“One can only hope,” I managed to spit out with a small sigh.
“I will tell you one thing,” Mr. Franks started. “I do see the determination in you.”
I couldn’t believe it! He was actually starting to take me seriously!
“Well, thank you sir,” I said with a smile. My heart fluttered with joy in a pitter-patter beat.
“No need to thank me,” Mr. Franks said, returning my smile. “You are the one with