Writing Willy’s character was fun. 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 relieved 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.”