So, Who's This Edwin Guy?

For the past few years I've been involved in a project called "Edwin." Some friends asked me to help them write a screenplay for a feature film. Halfway through the screenwriting process, I asked them if they minded if I wrote a novel to accompany the story. They didn't mind.

I'm editing the novel now and I ran across a couple of excerpts I though might be fun to share. So, without further ado, here's Edwin...

Edwin looked around. The family meeting between the adults continued. The men from the funeral home waited by the cars. Edwin saw one of the men smoking a cigarette, the smoke from his exhaled breath raced from his head as a gust of wind hit the grimaced-faced figure. Not a soul saw Edwin pick up a corner of the floral arrangement and place the drawing under the flowers so the wind would not rob his grandfather of his precious gift. Through the green stems and brilliant colored petals of the flowers Edwin saw the faces of an elderly man and a young innocent boy, the two figures in the drawing fighting to see the sky.

“Edwin, honey. We’re going, so say your goodbyes,” Susan said to her son. She knew the special bond that her son and father-in-law shared and the knowledge that this bond would not mature and grow like it should pained an already grieving woman.

A moment came then went, and Edwin turned to go. The wind whipped around the gravesite, a corner of the drawing unburdened by the weight of the flowers gently rose up and down. Edwin joined his family as the small meeting of remaining family elders ended and each person climbed aboard the car that brought them to this sad place.

In the corner of his eye Edwin saw it, a stick came flying from behind his neighbors hedge and flew directly at the boy. The thrower must have had some talent because he timed the stick perfectly to reach the oncoming cyclist. Whether or not the one throwing the stick intended on what happened next was doubtful, for the chances of the throw being so perfect were slim. The stick sailed through the air and lodged through the spokes of the boy’s front tire. As the tire rotated the held stick hit the bike’s front forks, the boy’s weight (and more importantly, the weight of the newspapers) continued forward and the momentum carried boy, bike, and cargo to spill on the warming pavement of the road. Luckily, the boy acrobatically sprung from the bike and rolled in front of the pile of newspapers. The horror of what Edwin saw turned to admiration of the boy’s skills. It was almost as if he had done that particular move before, perfecting it with repetition.

The boy quickly jumped up and checked to see if he had suffered any serious damage. Edwin instinctively began walking toward the fallen rider hoping to help if help were needed. He had only taken a few steps when he heard laughing—the sounds coming from the spot the stick first took flight. It was then Edwin saw the two figures rise from their hiding spot behind the hedge. Even though Edwin had never seen these boys before, Edwin instantly disliked the two.