It’s Friday, time for the weekly prompt from The Red Dress Club. This week’s prompt could be fiction or nonfiction.
“Your assignment is to write a character sketch of a villain.”
Kind of handy how that prompt coincides so nicely with the imminent start of NaNoWriMo (3 days, eeek!). I took full advantage and worked on my project. Not sure if this is exactly a character sketch, but this is what I came up with.
Charles Truxton stalked across the floor of his home office. Despite his skeletal frame, the stomps shook the plaques, pictures of him with the most influential people in the city, and the large cross that adorned the walls.
He muttered to himself, a trace of his rural Virginian accent still discernable. Talking through the trial out loud sometimes helped him find the root of the problem. The trial was not going well. After thirty years as a trial lawyer, he knew when he had the jury, and he did not have this jury. He needed to figure out a way to twist the facts for his closing statement. His client was looking at serious jail time for embezzlement and a loss would mar his reputation.
He leaned over his mahogany desk and began writing on a legal pad. He scribbled across the page, drew his pen high into the air, and sliced big X’s into the paper. Grabbing the pad, he tore off the top pages, balled them up, and flung them, followed by the legal pad, across the room. He rubbed his eyes with his palms than ran his cracking hands through his white hair.
“Emily!” he screamed, “I need my goddamn coffee!”
The door creaked open as Emily peeked into the room. She kept her eyes on the white carpet.
“Well?” he said. “What are you waiting for, an engraved invitation? Bring it in.”
Emily scurried across the room with a tray. She picked up the white ceramic coffee pot, poured a cup of coffee with cream, and handed it to him.
“Is the trial not going well, dear,” she asked.
Charles paused, his cup half way to his lips.
He threw the cup, hitting the corner of the desk. Emily hunched her back and brought her hands over her head as hot coffee splashed on her nylon covered feet.
“No! It’s not going well,” he yelled.
She untied the apron from her waist and began blotting the white carpet.
Charles grabbed the coffee pot and shattered it against the wall.
“Clean it up!” he screamed. “Clean it up, now!”
He grabbed the tray and cracked it over Emily’s back.
She yelped and crawled to the wall. Kneeling in the spilt coffee, she pulled the garbage can from under the desk and began throwing the shards away. Coffee dripped down the wall behind her.
“When you’re done come get me,” he said. “I’m going to take a break and grab a snack from the kitchen. And hurry up, I have a lot of work to get done tonight, I need a little quiet.”
He strode from the room and closed the door, shaking the plaques, pictures, and cross on the wall.