This is my first attempt in years at a longer story. This is chapter 1. I will be working on the rest over the next couple of days. I have several ideas for the story, but would welcome any comments or feedback offered.
When you think about it, a red pen is just like a sword. Usually it sits in its sheath, only to be pulled as needed. Both draw blood, but only one metaphorically.
As James sat with the red pen dangling from his fingers, he thought of each student as he read and re-read their work. He hated choosing to swipe the pen. Each swipe brought the student down, but he knew they were hurt more when he was unwilling to do the right thing. It seemed like each passing year made it harder and harder to make the choice. When James began teaching seven years before, he and Natalie had just gotten married, it was a clear line for him. All mistakes must be pointed out and fixed. His stance had softened after he realized that some kids needed the grace to help them learn from their failure.
James gave up for the evening and packed away his notebooks and his students work. He placed it all into his satchel, closed the lid on his MacBook, switched off his desk lamp, and walked to the door. He glanced out of the window as he walked and was greeted with the sight of the full moon over the parking lot. He had to find a way to start getting home to Natalie and the girls earlier. It wasn't fair to Nat to expect her to deal with work all day and cranky five year old twins each night. He loved his family and wished he could do more than just spend weekends and summers with his girls.
His eyes were again drawn to the sky as he reached his old, rusty Ford. He was pleased to see a shooting star and silently wished for his daughters to grow into beautiful, smart women. The old wives tale gave him comfort, even if the thought of teenage daughters made him shudder with apprehension. He got into the truck, turned on the motor, and began his short journey to his home.
*****
It stooped, shriveled and bent, waiting for the rusty, old Ford to make its appearance. The size and shape of a large man, it seemed to absorb all light in its vicinity. With each passing second, its agitation grew. The trucks lights cut swath though the darkness, passing over the motionless form of the watcher and stopping when James reached his drive. As he parked and walked inside, he had no idea of the choice the night would bring.
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