Characters are like your children. You love them all, and it’s hard to choose your favorite. Willy is one of those (Don’t tell the other characters, but he’s one of my favorites). I like characters that can be equally tough and tender…
Willy turned around to face his friends and make sure everyone was out and
ok. Sandy started to sob and fell to her knees as Jonny put his arm around
her. Frank, still huffing from his sprint, bent over to catch his
breath. Gregory and Daniel looked around, frantic.
“Where’s David?” Gregory asked in an awkward girlish-sounding
voice. Frank stood up straight and looked toward the tent.
Sandy gasped. “Oh, oh my God!” she cried, seeing the tent collapsed.
Gregory and Daniel rushed over to the tent, calling his name. Willy and
Frank followed, quick to help, struggling to find the tent opening in the
darkening light of the sky. Frank froze cold. He looked down, and his voice
turned a chilling tone of horror. “Blood,” he whispered, forcing the
word out of his mouth.
Willy looked down at where Frank was staring. Fresh splats of blood dripped
at Willy’s feet.
Frank looked up at Willy. “You’re bleeding, old man,” he said with
a worried tone.
A trickle of blood ran down from Willy’s forehead and nose into his beard.
He reached up and touched his forehead, searching for injury. “Oh,”
he said with a nonchalant tone as he pulled a toothpick-sized piece of cable
from his head. “Would ya look at that.”