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ZiggyStardust · 05-11-2013, 10:39 AM

I've going to put the next bit which should add something to it....

1985

At 7:57 AM, on Monday 8th September, the phone next to Alan's bed killed sleep. He grabbed wildly for it with one hand whilst the other rubbed his tired eyes.
"Hello?" he groaned into the receiver.
"Is this Alan?" the voice on the line asked. It was old and hoarse.
"Yeah."
"Just called to say that your appointment has been moved to to 12:30 today."
"Okay. Bye."
Putting the receiver back on the phone with a satisfying click he swung his aching legs over the edge of the bed and shivered as his bare feet touched the cold, hard wooden floorboards. A chair by the bed held he day's clothes; two socks, a shirt and tie, a pair of trousers and a jacket.
After dressing he headed to the bathroom. There he brushed his unruly Eddie van Halen - style hair so it was somewhat presentable, shaved the stubble from his face, dashed a bit of deodorant under his armpit and headed downstairs to breakfast.
Breakfast at Alan Grassington's small town house was a small affair. At most it would be strong coffee, a bowl of cornflakes and a slice of cake.
Today, however, was a grand affair. Today was the meeting.
"Decadence" he said to himself as he took a plate of bacon out of the fridge. It sizzled and spat as it fried in the shallow frying pan. The smell of burning pig filled the small kitchen.
It was wolfed down in seconds along with a bottle of lemonade, and by 8;15 AM he was ready to go.

The next bit goes on about a trip to a therapist and so on and so forth.

Be honest, if I invested in some time and revised it, could it be published?

05-11-2013, 10:39 AM	#6 (permalink)
ZiggyStardust Music Addict Join Date: Mar 2013 Location: Mars Posts: 108	I've going to put the next bit which should add something to it.... 1985 At 7:57 AM, on Monday 8th September, the phone next to Alan's bed killed sleep. He grabbed wildly for it with one hand whilst the other rubbed his tired eyes. "Hello?" he groaned into the receiver. "Is this Alan?" the voice on the line asked. It was old and hoarse. "Yeah." "Just called to say that your appointment has been moved to to 12:30 today." "Okay. Bye." Putting the receiver back on the phone with a satisfying click he swung his aching legs over the edge of the bed and shivered as his bare feet touched the cold, hard wooden floorboards. A chair by the bed held he day's clothes; two socks, a shirt and tie, a pair of trousers and a jacket. After dressing he headed to the bathroom. There he brushed his unruly Eddie van Halen - style hair so it was somewhat presentable, shaved the stubble from his face, dashed a bit of deodorant under his armpit and headed downstairs to breakfast. Breakfast at Alan Grassington's small town house was a small affair. At most it would be strong coffee, a bowl of cornflakes and a slice of cake. Today, however, was a grand affair. Today was the meeting. "Decadence" he said to himself as he took a plate of bacon out of the fridge. It sizzled and spat as it fried in the shallow frying pan. The smell of burning pig filled the small kitchen. It was wolfed down in seconds along with a bottle of lemonade, and by 8;15 AM he was ready to go. The next bit goes on about a trip to a therapist and so on and so forth. Be honest, if I invested in some time and revised it, could it be published? __________________ Welcome to the internet, where opinions are like toilets; everyone thinks theirs are perfect but the public ones stink.