A character is being chased by a villain or villainous group through an abandoned warehouse. Describe their fear and lucky escape in 500 words or less. Rewrite the piece from the viewpoint of the villain(s).
Why: Rewriting a protagonist’s scenes from the antagonist’s perspective can help you create a more realistic sense of threat, since you will be able to picture the protagonist as well as antagonist’s movements and psychological state clearer.
Lonnie set his two drinks on the floor in front of the passenger seat. He started the car and carefully pulled it around, parked it between the front door of the jazz club and the cars of Wes and Darron, nestled in an open spot just behind Jones’s SUV. Slid over into the passenger seat and adjusted the side mirror so that he could see the jazz club door down the sidewalk behind him. Briefly opened the glovebox and checked inside.
Then he settled in and waited.
While he waited, Lonnie finished off the two double whiskey sours at his feet. He stewed and he simmered over the situation. Rage and indignation boiled within him. Jones was not going to abscond with Lonnie’s players.
In the side mirror, the sight of the club door opening disrupted Lonnie’s thoughts. Lonnie leaned closer to the mirror for a better look.
It was a couple exiting, bundled up and walking with their arms around each other against the chill of the night. They crossed the street and wandered down the sidewalk the other way.
A minute later, two familiar figures stepped out of the club door. Lonnie straightened up in his seat.
“Leaving early? Past your bedtime?” Lonnie sneered to himself.
Darron and Wes walked slowly up the sidewalk, discussing. Lonnie, hand poised on the door handle, leaned closer to the side mirror until his forehead was touching the window. His jaw tightened.
Darron and Wes made their way past the alley next to the club and continued past storefronts, closed for the night, dark. Darron talked animatedly, using his hands. Wes listened intently, eyes on Darron, and nodded
The two were even with the tail end of Lonnie’s car when he pounced.
Flinging the car door open, Lonnie barked, “Jones!”
The two coaches jumped, startled. Neither said a word.
Lonnie stepped toward them, face seething, steam rising off his head into the chill of the night. He stopped a couple paces in front of Darron, arms folded across his chest, lips pursed. Jones cautiously took a step closer. He could smell the double whiskey sours on Lonnie’s breath.
Wes stepped up next to his friend.
“What do you got to say for yourself?” Lonnie demanded.
“What are you talking about?” Darron answered, trying to match Lonnie’s indignation.
“I hear you’re walking out and you decided to take a few things along with you.”
“Where’d you hear that?”
”Never mind.”
“Wise tell you that?”
“I said never you mind that!”
“You sure Wise has his story straight?” Jones challenged Lonnie.
“You keep your hands off my players!” Lonnie shouted and jabbed his finger into Darron’s chest.
Darron’s eyes blinked, his jaw tightened, and he brushed Lonnie’s hand away. “You don’t own those boys!”
“I said you keep your hands off my players!”
“And I’ll do what I please!” Darron shouted right back.
Lonnie turned away from Darron and stepped to the open car.
He leaned in and opened the glovebox.
Darron grabbed Wes by the arm and shoved him back toward the club.
“Run for it!” Darron shouted.
As Lonnie straightened up and turned back toward Darron and Wes, he saw the two of them run around the corner and into the alley. Lonnie took off after them. He heard the sound of a trash can being kicked halfway down the alley. They were getting away. Lonnie’s shoes slapped the pavement as he passed the last storefront and rounded the corner into the alley. He saw the two men and he shot, wildly. At the sound of the bullet striking the brick wall, the two instinctively put their hands up behind their heads and ducked as they ran.
“Faster!” Lonnie heard one say to the other.
Lonnie cursed and chided himself, told himself he wasn’t in the movies. On the next shot he would stop and steady himself before shooting.
Darron and Wes raced to the end of the alley and made a sharp cut out of sight. Lonnie avoided the knocked over trash can, came to the end of the alley, and skidded to a stop as he cleared the corner. He stopped, raised his gun, and froze.
Two D.C. police officers, guns drawn, told him to drop the gun and put up his hands. Lonnie, staring down the barrels of the two drawn guns, did as he was told.
The chase was over.