Slow Motion Scene
Danielle D., Erma M., Zhanna R.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
One Page:
Chris enters Chase bank through the revolving doors. His mucky sneakers scuffle along the marble floors quickly and in step with his heartbeat. A carry-on sized suitcase rolls behind him. He makes a right and stands behind a pregnant woman in line for withdrawals. He stares as he waits his turn, small pools of sweat falling from his face.
“You’re doing this because you have to,” he mumbled to himself. The woman turned around. Her back is arched in discomfort; her skin is creamy and glistening. Her hair is short and curly, like Sean’s. “Just in and out, and go get Sean back,” he continued, scratching his chin, skin irritated from the synthetic beard and mustache.
Chris sways behind the woman; his eyes glaze over in thought. He was one step closer to his motivation as the line moved. The woman before him was next to see the teller. Chris taps his sneakers swiftly, looking to see who is near him. There is a security guard near the door he came in, but only a metal trash can by the other exit.
He steps to the next available teller, a woman in a powder blue suit with a badge labeled “Tina”. He removes his right hand from the pocket of his hooded sweatshirt, exposing a nine millimeter gun. Weapon cocked under the bulletproof glass, Tina frowns and closes her eyes, letting her mascara run. “That’s right, Tina. Shove all that money under here,” he whispers with his lips to the glass, his finger to the trigger.
Chris’ lips curve slightly in satisfaction. He gently places the carry-on on the countertop, placing one-hundred dollar stacks down slowly and carefully. Tina slowly backs away from Chris gun range as packs. He shivers, zips up, and walks out.
One Sentence: Chris leaves the scene of the bank robbery, suitcase in one hand and a gun in the other.
One Paragraph: Chris approaches the teller, his hands in the uni-pocket of his sweatshirt. He faces a woman with a badge labeled “Chase ‘Tina’”. Nine millimeter clutched in his hand beneath the bulletproof glass. He demands $50,000 to pay the ransom for his 5-year old son, Sean.
Slow Motion:
Chris carefully places the green stacks inside a carry on bag, counting to himself how much he may have left over. He is confident, and his chest pounds heartily while he reaches for the third stack. His torso, swivels swiftly to the suitcase and he removes his fingers gently, indexes first. His palms are warm and red and moist, and for stack for he uses his right hand and wipes his left hand on his chest. Twenty, thirty, forty, fifty thousand dollars passes his hands.
