Here's my very rough draft of Smoke on the Water, my contemporary romance future meet-cute, at 2000 words.
Smoke on the Water
On a clear spring morning, I walked along the long, winding pier at Washington Park Beach in Michigan City. While I visited my cousin here, I received a special assignment from the National Historical Society to design a print for the annual hot air balloon festival in Astor Fields next month. They've given me an endowment to create an image of the Michigan City Lighthouse to go on the balloon. This was the first time the N.H.S., and the town of Astor Fields, had considered to enter their hot air balloon in the race. They've also had granted me permission to tour the lightkeeper's cottage and to climb to the top of the watch tower. Lucky for me, I wasn't afraid of heights.
As I strode along the pier, I glanced at the calm, blue-green water from Lake Michigan. With light foamy waves that lapped at the shore, the bright sun shone above me as I donned my tinted shades and viewed this magnificent scenery. Lighthouses had always fascinated me ever since I was a young girl. In my right hand, I carried my CAD-computer, a blank sketch pad, and assorted colored pens and pencils. From my previous research on Michigan City Lighthouse & Pier I've done the day before, I've gotten the gist of how tall and wide it would be for my print to go on the nylon fabric. So excited to see my name, Jillian Ross, graphic designer and fine artist, be mentioned in the papers and credit this achievement on my resum? and portfolio for future commissioned work.
I stopped at the front of the light house and plopped myself down in front of this national historical landmark. I opened my tablet and typed rough estimates for my pre-cut rough design. Instead of the usual red-and-white striped colors of the towers like barber shop poles, I grabbed my pencils, stencils, and etched a light composite on the canvas like an artist would before they've drawn, sketched, and painted their landscape or seascape with a wide range of colors. My feet dangled near the pavement's edge and not too close to the railing. My heartbeat slammed inside my chest. A bolt of unadulterated adrenaline rushed through me. In no time, from the solar valve on top of the cupola, and then toward the massive concrete foundation, I've gotten down to work for the printed design for my rough sketch on my pad. Before I transferred it to my tablet, I've taken a break and headed to the entrance when I unlocked the doors with the master keys to the automated lighthouse and cottage.
As I stepped inside, I climbed the seventy-two step spiral staircase all the way to the elevated catwalk above the watch tower. I liked to call this research before I completed my drawing for the hot air balloon festival. Out of breath, I reached the top and glanced at the large windows that faced Lake Michigan. For a closer look, I headed to the catwalk and marveled at the amazing view. Wow! I feel like I'm on top of the world...sort-of. I let out a soft chuckle and relaxed my shoulders.
Nothing but a sunny blue sky, a couple puffs of smoke. What the hell? I moved closer to the railing and looked for a sign. No passing sailboats or fishing boats to make waves this morning. Something buoyed along the tide as more wisps of smoke floated in the air, when it caught on fire. Smoke on the water, maybe fifteen miles away from me. I whipped out my cell and dialed 9-1-1. A wicker basket acted like a small boat, burning alive with a fiery flame. I gasped and widened my eyes at the deflated hot air balloon that floated along with broken suspension cords.
"911, what's your emergency?" the operator asked me.
"A hot air balloon had popped and fallen in Lake Michigan. It's on fire."
"Where are you at?"
"I'm at Michigan City East Lighthouse and Pier at Washington Park Beach. I see smoke on the water."
"I'm sending EMS, police, and fire over your way. They'll be there in ten minutes. If possible, stay on the line to give us more information. What's your name?"
"Jillian Ross. I'll try. I need to get a closer look from here and put you on hold as I head to the beach." I paused my call and headed back inside to go downstairs toward the pier. I hurried as fast I could as I waited for help. I couldn't see much from where I stood on the catwalk. Time was of the essence. What in the world why that balloon doing here?... unless it was for an emergency landing when it was possibly on fire.
I exited out of the lighthouse and sprinted along the pier and then veered across to Washington Park Beach. Although it wasn't exactly swimming season that morning, the lake water might not be warm enough for swimming. That aeronaut must've gotten chilled with hypothermia by now. Other than knowing that help was seven minutes away, I knew I had to do something to save a life. I went to the parking lot to stash my lighthouse drawing inside and snatched my long wetsuit before I dove onto the chilling lake water. As a senior lifeguard during my youth, I had phenomenal swimming and diving skills. It couldn't hurt to have a headstart. On that quiet beach, I rushed to the vacant lifeguard stand and borrowed a pair of binoculars. I bit my lower lip and guessed that the basket was at least fifteen miles away, toward the middle of the lake.
In the distance, sirens sounded off behind me , red and blue flashing strobe lights appeared in my purview. Like a buoy, somebody clutched on the basket with their dear life, while the inside continued to burn and spread toward the balloon's envelope to a dark brown color. Was it entangled up and caught on the telephone wires or snagged by the trees? I couldn't tell that much from where I stood.
Without much deliberation, I took a chance to rush into the water before anyone could stop me. I needed to reach that person before it might be way too late.
"Hey miss", a tall male said to me. "You should leave it to the professionals. Weren't you who called for help?"
I nodded and glanced at him. He dressed in a MCFD fireman's uniform. But I couldn't tell what rank and name appeared on his backside. I took umbrage that what he said: lifeguards weren't professionals and this wasn't a life-saving test. I quirked the corners of my mouth and raised my brows. "Yes I did. But this person needs our help. I'm a certified lifeguard and an all-star champion in collegiate swimming and diving...." I didn't like to boost about my stellar athleticism which almost landed me a spot on the US Olympic team a dozen years ago.
He scoffed and stepped closer to the shoreline. "Yeah, right, miss. Please step back and let us do our job. We'll get to the site faster without your interference."
I opened my mouth and closed it shut. I might not be a local from Michigan City, but I would love to prove him wrong. "Wanna bet? Put your money where your mouth is... Officer."
Everyone gathered around us and viewed the fire-burning scene. They cheered and clapped behind us like this was some sort of exhibition. "It's Lieutenant O'Dowd, Miss Ross. And you're on." He snickered at me.
O'Dowd? Wait a minute here. One of my survival camp instructors were named O'Dowd last fall. What was his name? Any relation? I smirked. "Logan, we meet again. Meet you at the basket." Since when he was a fireman and worked two jobs in the same camping season, unless he took time off to drive a forty-five minute commute from Emberly Heights. I rushed toward the water in my long-sleeved wetsuit and dove straight into the chilly water. No doubt, I could hear him groan straight behind me as he accelerated the MCFD's Rescue Squad's motorboat from shore. I've gotten the lead from a mere margin as I propelled myself forward to the burning hot air balloon with the front stroke to reach the victim faster. I didn't notice the chill, but more swirls of smoke wafted into the air as someone called for "help." I could've sworn he was a male.
As Logan took off in a boat on the waves with his colleagues, I kicked up some water and made waves to splash him when I approached the basket. This man sported a black hooded jacket. Smoke consumed his face as he blocked it with his hand.
I did my best to shrug off the shivers that emanated from the cold. The fire continued to engulf the hot air balloon in its entirety, grey smoke wafted in the air with soot and ash. A Coast Guard clipper arrived at the scene with fire hoses and extinguishers to douse the flames inside the basket and the sand bags. Not even a splash from the cold fresh water did much to smother this out-of-control fire. Arson? Explosives? Sabotaged burners that ran out of gas from a leak? Those thoughts swirled in my mind.
As I swam closer to the victim, the fireman in the boat stopped me with a smirk and folded his arms at his waist. "Not so fast. You've proved your point in the bet, and we'll take it over from here. We don't want you to catch a cold or get hypothermia or pneumonia..."
I haven't gotten that far on what the prize would be, other than plain boasting and bragging rights. "I wanted to ten to that victim and see if he's all right and take him safely to the shore... Lieutenant."
He scoffed and glanced at the smoldered hot air balloon. Two fire fighters on his boat had managed to douse the flame. Two Coast Guard officers helped tend to the victim's needs and take him to the nearest hospital back at the shore. "It's already taken care of, Miss Ross. Want a ride back to the beach?" He grabbed a towel and held it out for me. What a perfect gentleman. So gallant and chivalrous.
My lips quivered from the cold. With a closer look, I peaked at the half-ruined hot air balloon's envelope and frowned at the faded colors of white, red, and blue, that had now turned into a smeared design with a missing logo or emblem. On the clipper, they've taken him away at a fast pace. As I reached my hand toward O'Dowd, I extended it to him to help me climb inside the boat. I wrapped myself in a warm blanket as we sped past the other fire boat that gathered the hot air balloon to tow it away for evidence. But I knew I'd recognized it and the letters for the Astor Fields BalloonFest to do promotions for the big event two weeks away. Was he a participant? Did I know him? Dd someone want to take him out of the competition so early on, even if it as a crime?
"Satisfied, Miss Ross," Logan said. "But I didn't know what you were thinking or had to prove by swimming into cold waters?"
"Nothing. Just wanted to lend a hand and save a life. I guessed I did in a way." During the rest of the ride, I remained quiet until we reached shore. "Thanks for the ride. See you around..Logan." I jumped out of the boat and tossed him his towel. I sprinted toward the sand and then to my car in the parking lot. Ten minutes later, after I dried off and changed clothes, I drove away and headed toward Emberly Heights, not knowing if I ever see him again. Or the mystery on why that hot air balloon crash landed in Lake Michigan, or if it it was connected to one another.
Topic: First Draft: Smoke on the Water (Read 1309 times)