- Books, Literature, and Writing»
- Commercial & Creative Writing
Excerpt: Psychological Thrilller Novel
Over the past month or so I have begun writing a psychological thriller novel after planning it out over the course of a few months and I have gotten some good feedback from people I know. I began to think about getting feedback from a wider spread of people, thus I will post the first three chapters on here. Also, the three chapters feature plenty of disturbing elements and profanity. I hope you all enjoy it and let me know what you think, good or bad. Any feedback is good feedback in my eyes.
It was a dim, brisk day in Baltimore not unlike any other day as of late. Rain drops fall from the sky making everyone move a little bit slower to their jobs or daily routines while en route being cranky towards others. A slight breeze blows through from time to time almost as if it is a reminder for people to wake up. Waiting at a bus stop we find a man sitting comfortably, albeit looking as if he had a rough night, or five. He wears a black leather jacket with a grey dress shirt underneath. He took a final swig of his coffee he had bought at the market down by the corner and after he finished he tossed the cup to the side and slicked his long hair back. He stood up from his seat and headed down the street walking through the city saying hello to his favorite people, most notably the pretty blonde bank-teller who worked across the street from his apartment complex. He walked inside the bank and made direct eye contact for her as if no one else was there. She of course noticed him, but tried to play coy. She paid more attention to the customer in her line, yet she still brushed her long curly blonde hair back while taking a deep breath. She wore a white blouse buttoned all the way to the top with a pink skirt that went down to her knees. Damon knew these details as it was what she had to wear to work every day, or at least a variation of it. He walked up next to the customer and leaned over the desk in front of them with his eyes still fixated on her. He gave her a slight smirk.
“Damon, come on, you’ve got to wait. I am with a customer.” The woman said patiently.
“I know the drill, darling.” He paused this time giving a wide smile, then turning his attention to the customer and putting his hand out for a shake, “Damon Palladino. Nice to meet you pal. Don’t you find this young woman very attractive?”
The customer mumbles and adjusts his glasses as he is clearly uncomfortable with the question, “Umm, I guess so…”
“You guess so? Come on, look at her. A perfect set of blue eyes that you could get lost in, luscious lips, long curly blonde hair, hell even the way she dresses vaguely resembles Marilyn Monroe.” Damon interjects.
“Yeah, yeah… I see it.” The customer hesitantly laughs.
“Damon.” The woman said impatiently.
“There ya go bud. My job here is done.” Damon says with a smile while putting his hands on the customer’s shoulders and eventually taking a step back where he finds a chair to wait patiently.
Damon lounges on the chair while taking a look through the bank pamphlets scattered along the desks next to him. The customer looks back in a bit of disbelief but goes back to his business with the bank teller and he quickly finishes. In a bit of a fit, she came around the desk and stomped her feet on her way to him.
“You can’t keep doing this.” The woman said as she placed his fists at the edge of her hips.
“Ah, but you look so cute when you are angry, Maggie.” Damon spoke softly while standing up and fixing his jacket. “I don’t mean to intrude; I just enjoy a pretty face just as much as the next person. The only difference, I’m honest about it.” He gave her another sly smile and walked out of the bank heading towards his apartment across the street.
“Yeah, because you are a drunk asshole, Damon!” Maggie yelled as he walked on out the door. Her proclamation caught the ear of Damon and his response was rebellious fist up in the air as if he had won something.
As he stepped inside his apartment complex the neighbors who were going out, presumably to their jobs, gave him shady looks as he entered which he quickly dismissed. He whistled and carried on to his apartment where he found mail at the bottom of his door. He picked it up and enter his filthy apartment that had clothes scattered all throughout. Led Zeppelin, Queen and The Doors posters were plastered across his walls. He sat down on his couch in the middle of the room as he filtered through the mail. All of them were letters direct for his help which he quickly would toss away.
“I am no help to anyone.” He mutters.
Damon begins to take his jacket off, followed by his shoes and the rest of his clothing as he heads toward the bathroom. On his way there he decides to listen to his answering machine. He had six messages. As he showers he listens to them and all of them are from the same person. Police Commissioner Rick Morgan, the man that helps take care of him and largely is his father figure, even at the dismay of Damon.
The machine says, “First message,” “Damon, it’s me. Call me back.”
“Second message,” “Damon, call me.”
“Third message,” “I know we may not see eye to eye, but please. Pick up.”
Damon can’t help but to laugh after hearing the first three messages and mutters, “Does he ever understand, I’m just not home?”
“Fourth message,” “I need your help.”
“Fifth message,” “I swear you better not be drunk on some corner.”
“Sixth message,” “I’m on my way over.”
“Oh I am shaking it my boots!” Damon yells back at the machine as if Rick could hear him.
In that moment, Damon hears a knock at the door, which he quickly follows up with a sigh of his own. He finishes up his shower and quickly dries himself off. The knocking continues to get louder.
“Come on Damon, open up!” Rick yells from the other side.
“Can you give me a minute?” Damon yells back as he wraps the towel around his waist and heads to his room to put on clean clothes. He quickly put on some pants and randomly picked up a shirt while heading to the door. He opened it to see a very disgruntled old man who stormed inside.
He looked around the apartment and shook his head back and forth at the site of how disgusting it was, not to mention the smell. He was so angry he could have pulled out the little bit of hair that he had left of his little head. For an older man he was well built and had a physical presence to himself which is undoubtedly why he got his position as Police Commissioner. His eyes see the answering machine and his eyes dart back to Damon.
“Nice to see you have gotten my messages finally. What wonderful timing, so how much did you drink last night?” Rick asked.
“It wasn’t just last night.” Damon muttered and sat back down on his couch.
“You’ve seen what I am going to tell you, haven’t you?” Rick questioned.
“I’ve been trying to push them off, maybe if I do they won’t happen or they will just go away.” Damon sighed.
“How many times have you tried that already throughout all of your life? A lot, that is how many times. You have a gift whether you want to believe it or not. These letters are proof of that. People hear about it and think that you can help them in some way or another. What kind of sick fuck are you to deny them that?”
Damon rolled his eyes and sat up from his normal slouch. “They are a curse more than a gift. You’ve never understood that. They take a toll on me if you haven’t noticed.”
“So that makes it okay for you to be a dead beat drunk?”
Tired of the old man’s grilling he stands up and attempts to walk away. Rick puts his hands up and presses them up against Damon’s chest.
“Listen, I know it’s hard for you. I understand.”
“Do you? Then explain to me why my parents left me when I was a kid thanks to this wonderful “gift” of mine.”
“You know I don’t believe they left you. They loved you Damon.”
“Love is fickle.”
“They were good people. I made a promise to them I would help you along your way.”
“Lovely job you have done. Why’d they have to leave in the first place, huh? You say something horrible must have happened for them to leave me, yet if they made you promise to look out for me...” Damon paused to collect himself. “Doesn’t that point to it being a thought-out decision on their part?”
“Or maybe they knew the net was closing down on them. I am sorry Damon; I refuse to believe that they just left you.”
“Yeah well everyone leaves at some point. It is a part of life, Rick.”
Damon begins to head to the kitchen and on his way he begins to stumble.
He collects himself for a second, but then blood begins pouring out of his nose and his eyes close as he falls flat to the ground.
“Damon!” Rick yells as he hurries to a passed out Damon on the floor.
While passed out, Damon begins to have a vision ofblood splattered across the street with remnants of ripped up clothing scattered throughout. Even more troubling is the pieces of skin that is also scattered among the blood and clothing. Damon does not hear any screaming, just a dead and lifeless body hitting the pavement over and over. At the end of the vision he sees a dead blonde woman, one with long curly hair and that is the only thing that stands out about the lifeless woman as the body lays torn about in the middle of the street at night. He comes too and sees Rick holding his head up.
“Are you okay? Did you see something?” Rick asks.
“It was someone I know. It was awful.” Damon winches as the visions frequently can take a physical or mental toll on him. He felt burns and scrapes throughout his arms and legs.
“We will save them. It’ll be okay.” Rick responds as he continues to console the man he raised as his own.