MONDAY 03rd OCTOBER 2011
Today I have put my Eccentric Character for Creative Writing Class – Lottie Bonner: The Hat-Loving Psycho Killer, into words.
Having taken on board the feedback issued at last weeks lesson, I have decided to take Lottie down the Black Comedy route and not the Crime/Thriller path.
Please find below my ‘500 words ‘ (inevitably I went over and wrote 6 – doh). It is a snapshot of what could potentially progress into a bigger story, possibly a novel one day.
Oh there was Polaroid at the top of this blog. It’s been upgraded. This blog sees me spending more time on how to adapt photos than writing! The hour before this publication I spent trying to adapt a picture on Photoshop only to find a Polaroid App that pandered to my request in seconds, grrrr. *edit – this post has since been updated now I’ve uncovered Unsplash and found far more suitable photo’s 🙂
Never mind. I shall take this snippet along to the class on Wednesday and await the fate of Lottie’s feedback.
Enjoy x xx
Lottie carefully removed the rubber gloves one by one with a satisfactory snap. She then stuffed them into a carrier bag in her briefcase, before replacing them with her demure purple velvet gloves. She steadily adjusted her bowler hat, which had slipped slightly during this sequence.
Her briefcase was soft brown leather, with an internal compartment big enough for her Polaroid camera, her only witness. She retrieved this and blew off the invisible dust.
She turned to look at Jim Doogan’s lifeless body on the floor, and lifted the camera up with a grin, “Smile Mr Doogan,” she smirked, tapping her finger on the button.
Jim Doogan, the postman, had it coming. It was ever since he had ripped her payslip whilst carelessly shoving it through her letterbox one morning during the school holidays. She had watched his sloppy walk to the front door, his fat fingers fumbling with the pieces of post as if they were bits of toilet paper. The back of his hand had been used to wipe his running nose then the same hand openly scratched his backside.
This had infuriated Lottie. He had no respect for her property whatsoever. She had watched in amazement as he had kicked her front gate shut as he left.
That had been the icing on the cake.
Previous to this, Lottie had witnessed Jim Doogan’s escapades around the estate; barking angrily at the children who got in his way, smoking cigarettes all the while and flicking the ends into the beautifully trimmed lawns, one of those being Lottie’s. He shut peoples’ gates with the thrust of his foot, not to mention any feline friends or dutiful dogs that got in his way.
Lottie had decided that something needed to be done about Jim Doogan and his foul behaviour.
He needed to be taught a lesson; he needed to be disposed of, the world would be a better place without Jim Doogan.
Lottie wafted the Polaroid, admiring her real life creation whilst she waited for the artistic version to develop.
It had been so easy. She had followed him home one early afternoon during the Easter holidays when the gloomy sky peppered the estate with raindrops. Lottie remembered it well; she had worn her knitted grey bobble hat as there had been a slight chill in the air.
She had been surprised to see that he did not live far from her, in one of the flats at the entrance to the estate. She had watched as he had fumbled with his keys to let himself in. She noted there was no sound of a dog to greet him and that it appeared all the neighbours were out at work.
On this fateful return a couple of days later, again on a wet afternoon, she had played the damsel in distress, claiming her car had broken down a few streets away and her phone battery had died.
Surprisingly, Jim Doogan fell for this charade and invited her to use his phone and made her a cup of tea. Lottie had cleverly left her purple velvet gloves on feigning coldness, disguising the rubber ones underneath. It was then, when he had retreated to the kitchen, that Lottie had slipped the poison in his tea. Whilst she performed a well-rehearsed false account of her life on his return, he began to sweat and his eyes started to bulge.
Jim Doogan then slid off the settee onto the floor, subsiding into an unconscious, deadly heap.
Lottie had said nothing. She simply checked his pulse and calmly reached into her briefcase, pulling out the Postman Pat hat that she had bought especially for the occasion, and gently placed it on the dead man’s head.
Love Missuswolf xxx
Images from Unsplash