T. A. Chase

Wednesday Work In Progress…

I’m going to post something from the secret project I’ve been working on. I’ve been doing the story in parts. This is the beginning of Part One, and I’ll be finishing up Part Three today. Then I’ll have two more parts to do. This is one of the stories that I have a deadline for, which is today for the first three parts. I got a little over 8k done last night on Part Three, so I have another 2-4k to do today, then fill out the blurb and cover forms for them. As soon as I know when it’ll be out, I’ll let you know. Hopefully sooner rather than later because I really like this story.

If you can find it, go and listen to the song, “Riding with Private Malone” by David Ball. The first part of the story is loosely based on this song. 🙂 I was inspired by it, but put my own twist on it…like I did with “Greyhound Bound for Nowhere” by Miranda Lambert for Nowhere Diner: Finding Love. I hope you find this snippet interesting enough to pick it up when it comes out. 🙂

It’s titled For Every Dream that Shattered.

For Every Dream that Shattered: Part One

Excerpt:

Holy Shit!

Logan stared at the car in front of him, then dropped his gaze to read the ad again.

“1967 Chevrolet. Good condition. Needs some repairs. Two thousand dollars or best offer.”

He’d called the number, and the man who answered agreed to have Logan come over to look at the vehicle whenever he liked.

Since he’d separated from the army, Logan had time on his hands. The economy might have been looking up, but it still had been near impossible to find steady work. He’d finally got a job working night security at a construction site earlier that week, but he needed his own car instead of borrowing his sister’s mini-van all the time.

When Logan saw the ad in the newspaper, he considered it a good sign. Maybe things were starting to look up for him. He studied the Chevy for a moment, then turned to face the man selling it.

“You have to know what you have here,” he said as he motioned to the car.

The elderly gentleman nodded. “I know exactly what it is and how much it’s worth.”

“Then why the hell are you selling it for two thousand dollars?”

After staring at him for a minute, the seller seemed to make a decision. “Son, would you like some coffee?”

Logan blinked at the sudden change of subject, but he nodded. “Certainly, sir.”

“Please call me Bert. You’re a military man, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir.”

Bert gestured for Logan to follow him. After carefully covering the car again, Logan caught up with Bert as the man made his way tentatively over the uneven ground. He considered offering Bert his arm to hold since he’d feel terrible if the man fell.

Yet something in Bert’s carriage or tilt of his head told Logan that Bert would refuse any suggestion of help. He seemed proud, and Logan wouldn’t take away his dignity, though he did stay close just in case.

“What branch did you serve in,” Bert asked as he weaved his way up the steps leading to the farmhouse’s back door.

“Army. I served in the First Air Cavalry for twenty years. Just retired last year”

Logan got to the door before Bert did, then opened it. Bert eyed him for a moment like he knew what Logan was doing, but he must have decided not to argue about it.

Bert didn’t pick up the conversation again until they were both seated at a wooden table with matching chairs. The amount of scratches and scarring that marred the top of the table spoke of its age.

“My great-great-great-grandfather made this for his new bride as a wedding present.” Bert ran his fingers over the surface like he was reading the memories embedded in the wood.

“It’s a nice table. Very solid.”

One of Logan’s hobbies was woodworking, and he knew quality workmanship when he saw it. Bert’s grandfather had a good eye and steady hand.

“Thank you.” Bert took a sip of the coffee he’d poured into mugs for them.

“Bert, I have to ask again. If you know what kind of car that is and how much it’s worth, why are you selling it for mere chump change? Especially considering how much you could actually get for it.” Logan held his mug tight between his fingers. As much as he wanted the car, he couldn’t justify paying so little for it.

“Here’s the thing, young man. That car’s been in my family for forty-six years, and only one person ever drove it.” Bert looked into his coffee and Logan wondered what Bert really saw in the dark liquid.

“How many miles are on it?”

“About a hundred. Kenny got drafted about a week after he bought it. Only had enough time to go on one short road trip before he needed to report to Fort Sill for boot camp.”

Logan frowned. “Kenny?”

“Yes. He was my youngest brother, and if everything had gone to plan, he would’ve outlived me. But war tends to take the young, and leave the old to mourn.”

Wednesday, May 15th, 2013, by and is filed under "Books., Excerpts, For Every Dream that Shattered, Wednesday WiPs, writing ". You can leave a response here, or send a Trackback from your own site.