Rewrite #3

This section is particularly shaky. Its also some thing I may omit, eventually. Here we see John, who has a problem with visions. He sees things when he touches object. He get impressions of events, past present or future. This is an example of such a time, when he decides he's going to test it, and finds something he feels he can change.

The problem is, my writing is horrible, and I don't think I've done enough back story to this part of him to back up how this happens for him. This section is full of lame, lets see if I can't just shine it up this afternoon.

Here's the before:

An exit came up and John took it, finding it led into a small town like so many scattered along the east coast. He was at a stop light, and began to feel it- purpose, a draw towards some thread n the fabric of existence. It wasn’t visible, but it was unavoidable and he put all his mind into it. Eventually his car found itself at a pharmacy. It was a national chain, nothing special in anyway. It was crowded with people picking up household items, and there was a long line of people picking up prescriptions. He wandered up and down the aisles trying to discern what it is he was looking for. He tried picking up objects, thinking perhaps there was something wrong with a product, but he stopped when he noticed an employee watching him. He looked like a shoplifter.
John had been holding a can of tomatoes. He smiled and looked at the woman, wearing a green vest bearing the name of the store.
“Finding everything alright?” She said. She was in her mid-forties, had thick, coarse blonde hair that she’d tried to subdue into a clip of some sort.
“Yeah, I think so.” He looked at the can. “Oh- these aren’t whole tomatoes? I’d better get crushed ones…” He put the can back and grabbed a different one.
The woman held out a hand-held shopping basket. “Here, this will help.” She smiled.
Everything went grey when he touched the handle. The sides of his visual plane warped up and he could see the woman…but it wasn’t her, it was a younger version of her. She was walking, somewhere, maybe an office building. When he caught a better look at her face he could see it wasn’t the drug store woman at all, but perhaps a a relative of her. The vision shifted, following the veins of the day- where this other woman had gone, and where she’d come from. A blue house with vinyl siding. Children. And beside the blue house, a huge, doomed propane tank. He could see the hose connecting it to the house, the painted words of the fuel company on the tank. And he could feel the normal panic that accompanied these sights.
John looked up and the woman was gone. He looked up into the mirrors that lined the ceilings and saw her heading towards the break room. He bolted towards her, catching her on the shoulder before she wen through swinging doors into the back of the store. Touching her shoulder gave him even more detail. “Luann?”
She turned around, startled. “Excuse me?”
“Luann, are you Luann?”
“No…” She narrowed her eyes at him.
John shifted his weight. “Who IS Luann, then?”
“What is this about?” She looked into the same ceiling mirrors John had used to find her, looking for another employee.
“I’m sorry to bother you- I’m not from here. But…I know that something is going ot happen to Luann.”
“What are you talkng about?”
“It’s a propane tank- it’s leaking. She shouldn’t go home, unless she gets it fixed. If it blows…the house could be destroyed. It…it looks like she has children…”
The employee, whose name tag read “Georgia” stared at John with wide eyes. She laughed awkwardly. “Who are you?”
“My name is John. I’m just passing through. I don’t know how to explain how I know, and I don’t expect you to trust a stranger, I mean, I don’t know if I would. But, all I’m saying is…this person…Luann-”
“She’s my little sister.” Georgia voice quavered. She looked at John intently. “How…”
“I know. It’s just one of those things. I can’t explain it, I just….saw it when you handed me the basket.”
“She’s in Oklahoma.”
“Can you call her?”
“I can call her at work, I guess. The kids should be at school…” She let her voice trail off. There was a pay phone in the hall behind her. She rushed to it and used a calling card to pay for the time. “I know, honey….I know. I’m just saying- call someone to go look at it. I know, I’ll…I’ll even pay for it, if thats the problem, I’ll send you a check if I’m wrong.” Georgia looked at John who was leaning against the adjacent wall.

This afternoon, I will work on the "after". The biggest problem is the fact that this scene is rushed. (blame it on the whole, "novel in one month" thing, I guess) Theres no reason why this woman wouldn't assume Johns some sort of maniac who's trying to kill her sister. I thought I'd crafted it well enough to avoid this feeling, but, I now see that not true. Hmmm....what to do, what to do...