The Premise: Riyadh

Care to indulge me for a minute?

Thanks — I’ll be brief.

As I have somewhat tongue-in-cheek lamented before, I have way too many story ideas. Even after weeding through them with something like a refining eye, I still have more than I can ever convert into finished work.

Not only do I want to complete more work that I am satisfied with, I want to share ideas with other people, so potentially they can run with something if it strikes their fancy. I don’t have to be the author on record for every possible idea that pops in my head.

For the stories I do end up writing, I still invite outside voices. I benefit greatly from constructive criticism and brainstorming and other forms of support from people; I want more of that.

My intention here is simply to provide a story idea — a short summary, a scene, a bit of dialogue or characterization — and see if it has legs.

That’s where you come in.

Would you mind giving me some feedback on this premise? What works? What doesn’t? Do you see it as a short story? A novel? A screenplay? Any additions or changes — up to and including “Ditch the whole thing!” — are welcome.

So without further ado, here’s this week’s pitch:

Working Title: Riyadh

The Premise: Asher Wilkerson and his sister Delaney, 10 and 8 respectively, travel with their parents on a business trip to Saudi Arabia. After days of sitting around in their hotel room, the kids finally get a taste of the city. Their parents take them to a market, which gets attacked by a suicide bomber. In the ensuing chaos, Asher finds himself alone, desperate to figure out what happened to his family, but terrified to venture around this inscrutable, foreboding city.

A Scene:

“Eww, it stinks! I don’t wanna go in there.”

“Delaney, come on,” Mom coaxed. “It’s like that Indian place you like – you’ll get used to it after a few minutes. There’s so much good food in here, I’m sure you’ll like something.”

Delaney crossed her arms, anchoring herself to the sidewalk. “That place smells good,” she pouted. “This smells like old socks and poop.”

I stopped in the shade of the tent, just happy to get out of the beating sun. The place did reek, actually – more like onions and B.O., but I wasn’t going to complain. Anything was better than staying in that weird hotel another day. I rolled my eyes at Dad. “Here we go again,” I grumbled, expecting him to share my annoyance.

Sighing, he walked over to Mom, who was now crouched next to Delaney on the sidewalk. Tons of people bustled by, and many of them shoved their way around us, complaining, or simply jostling Mom and Dad as if they were furniture left on the curb instead of people. “Just walk away,” Dad instructed. “She’ll follow.”

“I’m not leaving her here,” Mom objected, raising her voice over the crowd. “She wouldn’t be able to find us if she tried.”

Dad turned away, walking back toward me. “I’m not playing these games. C’mon, Ash, they can catch up.” He waved me after him, into the tight passageway between two aisles of crates. They were packed with nuts and spices and fruits, half of which I’d never seen before. They smelled sweet and pungent, making my eyes itch.

“Ryan!” Mom called after him. “I can’t believe you!”

She said more, but her words were drowned out by the growing clamor of the market. Everywhere, people crowded around stands, pointing at produce and waving their arms, inspecting scarves or jewelry in front of unblinking salesmen, or milling around and talking. All the women wore black cloth from head to toe, their eyes peeking out from narrow slits, their arms folded across their waists. They must be roasting, I thought, wiping some sweat off my neck. Dad said we all had to wear long pants and sleeves outside even though it was 95 in the shade. Just another stupid thing I don’t understand about this place. How does anybody live here?

More shouts rose up behind me, and I turned back, assuming it was Mom and Delaney finally catching up with us. All I could see, though, was a bunch of women pointing and screaming as a tall man with wild curly hair and a big nose shoved through the crowd. He had a canvas vest on, the kind with a bunch of pockets on it, like he was in the army. He marched right toward us.

Dad stopped, pushing me behind him with one arm. “Get back.” He sounded scared, which freaked me out because Dad is never scared. One time, late at night in Rio, he got us lost in a terrible barrio — kids with guns stood on the street corners, bandanas over their mouths as they eyed us up, no doubt guessing whether we were worth more alive or dead. Dad just walked right up to one of them, a teenage boy with a nasty scar over one eye, and asked him for directions to our hotel. The guy turned and talked to one of his buddies, laughing, but when Dad waved a $100 at him, the kid lowered his rifle and took the money. Then he pointed at us.

At first I thought he was negotiating our prices as well, but then Dad thanked him and started walking our way. He ushered us along with him, saying “Don’t look back.” We went three blocks down that road, and sure enough we reached our hotel. It was the middle of the night, but he canceled our reservation and booked us a room across town. “No sense letting our new friends know where we’re staying,” he explained as we stood in the lobby, waiting for the taxi he called.

The market got louder as the big-nosed man approached, the hot, stinky air growing thicker. The crowd in front of us parted, with some people taking cover while others tried to turn and run away.

The man plowed right past Dad and kept going, one hand tucked into his bulging vest. Some wires stuck out of the side, running into some of the pockets. A gust of cool air hit me as he passed, stinking of smoke and sweat. A horrible, sick feeling spread through my guts.

I looked around for somewhere to hide myself, but I couldn’t even move, the whole area was so jam-packed. Rather than taking cover, Dad started following the guy.

“Dad, what–?”

But just like that he took off, his head down like he was going to tackle the dude. “Raaaah!” Dad screamed, diving into the man’s back.

As the two went down, the crowd ahead of them lurched away, with more people gasping and shouting.

At the front of the crowd was Mom and Delaney. Mom’s eyes were huge, one hand flying to her mouth, the other clutching Delaney’s. Delaney’s mouth gaped, like she had a scream inside her so big it couldn’t even fit out her throat.

Dad landed on top of the guy with a heavy grunt and thud. The man bellowed, one arm trapped under him and the other twisted to the side. Dad grabbed for his pinned hand, squirming as he kept his full weight on the man’s back.

“Allahu akbar!” the man yelled.

A click and hiss.

A yellow flash.

Silent thunder slammed into me like a Mack truck.

Flying through darkness, sparks bursting behind clenched eyes.

A deafening boom, streaked with screams.

Another flare of light as my shoulder smashed into a wall, jolting my head and rippling through my bones.

Rocks and splinters hailed down, suffocating under heat and dust and rain. 

Then nothing…

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If you made it this far, thank you for taking the time. I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments below.