NEW FICTION: Vincenzo Strand.

 

Vincenzo Strand sat at the small desk, his mind bludgeoned by urgency. Where was he to start? He had pen, ink and paper, but where was he to start? Always at the beginning - but where was that? He flinched, looked over his shoulder. Nothing. He warily turned back to the writing desk. He tapped its broken wooden surface with the tip of his pen. It beat out a hollow rhythm that whiplashed around the room. He would start at the beginning and work his way through, whatever the cost.