This little chunk of story has been floating around on my computer for a while. I actually did it as part of The Short Story Event that was going on ages ago. Anyhow, I really like the character Brock in this and was thinking about extending the story but I'm not exactly sure how. I know it's only a tiny piece of writing but I just wanted a few opinions before I continued with it.
I'm quite scared lol I haven't posted in ages, it feels like when I first posted something. I'll just go hide now...
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Brock Idly rolled a rook between his gloved fingers, eyes suspiciously assessing any passer by from under his Stetson. His long worn coat kept the brittle wind out well, even with the multitude of patches and frayed seams. The park was fairly open, only a few trees bordered the paved area that was decked out with tables, chairs and chessboards. It was a perfect place to keep an eye on things, to notice someone out of the ordinary, to see him coming.
Brock paused a moment on a man in a trench coat whose face was obscured. Placing the rook down gently he leant forward hoping to pierce the shadow that cloaked the man’s face. Noting the unwanted attention the man turned to face Brock, visibly shuddered, drew the collar up on the coat and hurried on his way. They all did that, when they felt his eyes upon them.
Sitting back with a sigh, Brock chose another chess piece, a knight, and began to twirl this between his fingers, a nervous twitch some would say. He returned to studying each face that went by, ears straining to snatch conversations out of the morning air. Laughing children passed by on their way to school, business men hurriedly pushed through the crowd, desperate to get somewhere of little importance probably. Brock kept his body tense, waiting.
“Nervous are we?” a voice came from behind him.
Jumping, Brock fumbled the chess piece and watched as it fell from his fingers, bounced once on the paved ground, and rolled away. He cursed as a man came into his peripheral vision, a blur of grey.
“Artemus,” he said through clenched teeth. He hated to be snuck up on but how Artemus loved to do it, to catch him unaware and unguarded.
“Easy now, Brock. Don’t want that temper of yours getting you in trouble, do we?”
Brock didn’t reply but watched Artemus round the table to sit opposite him. He paused half way, bent down and retrieved the fallen knight. Artemus inspected it, smirked, and tossed it behind him. Brock’s hand whipped up and caught the chess piece in the air, without taking his eyes from Artemus’s back. He placed it gently on the table, adjusted his Stetson, and watched his counterparts every move.
