It was sweltering outside, absolutely unbearable. The desert flowed on in every direction as far as they could see without any break. David and men lounged under the shade of the lean-to clad in loose trousers and long sleeved shirts. They had been assigned to keep an eye on a particular group of people. They had placed their surveillance and had retreated to a safe distance. Joe was on look out, the others were taking quietly or playing cards. Mark and Brian arguing over the relative value of different hands.
It was a quiet day in the desert.
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Fool
David realized his mistake to late. If he was lucky he would be able to get his men out alive. He had been a fool to think it was going to be easier than they had told him it would be, and now they might all die because of him.
"FALL BACK!" David shouted. "Regroup and rendezvous. Steve go with Joe, Mark and Brian you're with me. Move!" The five man team broke in two, shooting off in separate directions. David wound through the underbrush, keeping low and leading the two Second Lieutenants through the jungle. He knew that Steve would keep Joe safe.
Their mission had been a dangerous one to begin with, and now it was worse, they had been compromised and had not achieved their objective. David kept up a zigzagging path through the jungle , making sure that Mark and Brian were with him.
David and his men finally broke through the brush and ducked into a blind, waiting for Steve and Joe. The twins sat down heavily, trying to catch their breath. David paced back and forth in the small space, his face a thundercloud.
Ten minutes passes, twenty, and then thirty. David had just decided to go and look for his men when they came stumbling into the blind, Steve leaning heavily on Joe.
Joe eased Steve to the ground. There was a tourniquet at Steve's knee and another lower on his calf that was soaked in blood.
David crouched next to Steve and unwrapped the bandage. "Shot?"
"Yeah, they pegged me as we were hopping over a log." Steve winced as David started to clean the wound. "It's a damn good thing that they can't shoot," Steve joked. He sucked in a sharp breath as David pulled the slug from the wound.
"I'm sorry Lieutenant. This is my fault." David said, wrapping his man's leg again.
"Just get me back to base and we'll call it square."
"FALL BACK!" David shouted. "Regroup and rendezvous. Steve go with Joe, Mark and Brian you're with me. Move!" The five man team broke in two, shooting off in separate directions. David wound through the underbrush, keeping low and leading the two Second Lieutenants through the jungle. He knew that Steve would keep Joe safe.
Their mission had been a dangerous one to begin with, and now it was worse, they had been compromised and had not achieved their objective. David kept up a zigzagging path through the jungle , making sure that Mark and Brian were with him.
David and his men finally broke through the brush and ducked into a blind, waiting for Steve and Joe. The twins sat down heavily, trying to catch their breath. David paced back and forth in the small space, his face a thundercloud.
Ten minutes passes, twenty, and then thirty. David had just decided to go and look for his men when they came stumbling into the blind, Steve leaning heavily on Joe.
Joe eased Steve to the ground. There was a tourniquet at Steve's knee and another lower on his calf that was soaked in blood.
David crouched next to Steve and unwrapped the bandage. "Shot?"
"Yeah, they pegged me as we were hopping over a log." Steve winced as David started to clean the wound. "It's a damn good thing that they can't shoot," Steve joked. He sucked in a sharp breath as David pulled the slug from the wound.
"I'm sorry Lieutenant. This is my fault." David said, wrapping his man's leg again.
"Just get me back to base and we'll call it square."
Flawless
The plan was flawless. David had gone over it with a fine toothed comb. He couldn't think of anything that he had left out. Now all he had to do was wait. For him that was always the hard part, waiting. David glanced at his watch. Why does time always seem to creep when you are waiting for something. David sighed, wishing time would go faster.
David checked over the items again, making sure that he had everything, running through a mental checklist. David pictured just how it would play out.
Looking at his watch again David was surprised to find he only had a few minutes to go. Standing up he got ready, flicking a small flame to life, and listening for approaching footsteps.
As soon as he could hear steps David applied the flame to the wick, bringing it to life.
The door opened and the light flicked on.
David looked up and smiled, "Happy Anniversary Arianna."
David checked over the items again, making sure that he had everything, running through a mental checklist. David pictured just how it would play out.
Looking at his watch again David was surprised to find he only had a few minutes to go. Standing up he got ready, flicking a small flame to life, and listening for approaching footsteps.
As soon as he could hear steps David applied the flame to the wick, bringing it to life.
The door opened and the light flicked on.
David looked up and smiled, "Happy Anniversary Arianna."
Friday, April 17, 2009
Sale
“So you just got that piece on sale.”
“You’d be surprised at what you can find at an army surplus store.” Mike hacked at the rope on his wrists with the army knife he’d propped up between his feet.
“Some kidnapper,” Jake grumbled. “He knocks us out, ties us up, but doesn’t think to take your knife or your gun.”
“I’m guessing he miscalculated our weights in ratio to the tranquilizing agent in the tranq darts and assumed we’d still be unconscious when he got back,” Mike said.
“Or he’s strong enough and fast enough that it doesn’t matter if you’re awake, untied, and armed.” A shadow fell across the doorway, and for a moment both men couldn’t see.
Then their eyes adjusted, and they realized that their captor was a boy, no older than fifteen, slight of build and with features like a china doll. And a pair of bright, bright blue eyes.
“Why did you kidnap us?” Jake demanded.
The boy tilted his head to the side quizzically. “Who says I kidnapped you? It’s not as if I’ve asked your families for ransom.”
“Then why did you take us?”
The boy’s smile was slow and calm and utterly terrifying. “Jei wanted something to eat.”
(206 words)
“You’d be surprised at what you can find at an army surplus store.” Mike hacked at the rope on his wrists with the army knife he’d propped up between his feet.
“Some kidnapper,” Jake grumbled. “He knocks us out, ties us up, but doesn’t think to take your knife or your gun.”
“I’m guessing he miscalculated our weights in ratio to the tranquilizing agent in the tranq darts and assumed we’d still be unconscious when he got back,” Mike said.
“Or he’s strong enough and fast enough that it doesn’t matter if you’re awake, untied, and armed.” A shadow fell across the doorway, and for a moment both men couldn’t see.
Then their eyes adjusted, and they realized that their captor was a boy, no older than fifteen, slight of build and with features like a china doll. And a pair of bright, bright blue eyes.
“Why did you kidnap us?” Jake demanded.
The boy tilted his head to the side quizzically. “Who says I kidnapped you? It’s not as if I’ve asked your families for ransom.”
“Then why did you take us?”
The boy’s smile was slow and calm and utterly terrifying. “Jei wanted something to eat.”
(206 words)
Container
“Who’s that lass there?” Tom asked.
Phyllis glanced up from her knitting. “Pardon?”
“That girl, there, going to visit Paul.”
A young woman stood on the next door neighbor’s door step carrying a stack of plastic containers.
“That’s Sylvia, dear,” Phyllis said. “She comes by once a week to bring him food.”
“Oh.” Tom returned to the paper to search for football scores. Blackburn was doing terribly this year, so he’d pinned his hopes on Arsenal taking Man U down in the next match.
“Pardon me.”
Phyllis and Tom both looked up and saw Sylvia standing on the edge of their lawn.
“Hello - my name is Sylvia, and Paul’s one of my coworkers. I brought him some supper, but he’s not answering his door. I was wondering if you could just give this to him when he gets home.” She held out the stack of tupperware.
Phyllis set down her knitting and accepted the boxes from her. “Of course, dear. Do you know Paul well?”
“Well enough. He’s lonely is all.” Sylvia smiled, and Phyllis thought to herself that Sylvia was a very lovely girl to be spending time with a sourpuss like Paul.
“He’s a bit of a loud neighbor at times,” Tom grumbled from behind the paper. “Comes home every night and listens to an hour of opera. Like bloody clockwork, it is. Always the same bloke singing, too. You’d think he’d tire of the stuff.”
Phyllis flapped an impatient hand at her husband. “Don’t mind him. I enjoy opera, and I’m glad Paul is willing to share.”
Sylvia looked puzzled for a moment, but then she laughed softly. “Oh, no, Paul doesn’t listen to opera. He doesn’t have a radio or victrola or anything.”
It was Phyllis’s turn to look puzzled. “Then it must be Mrs. Barnham next door. She must turn it up very loud - she’s nearly deaf, the poor dear.”
Sylvia’s smile was enigmatic. “Perhaps it is Mrs. Barnham. Or perhaps Paul simply likes to sing.” And she walked away.
It wasn’t until Paul returned home later that evening and Nessun Dorma echoed from his open window did Phyllis realize what Sylvia had meant.
(359 words)
Phyllis glanced up from her knitting. “Pardon?”
“That girl, there, going to visit Paul.”
A young woman stood on the next door neighbor’s door step carrying a stack of plastic containers.
“That’s Sylvia, dear,” Phyllis said. “She comes by once a week to bring him food.”
“Oh.” Tom returned to the paper to search for football scores. Blackburn was doing terribly this year, so he’d pinned his hopes on Arsenal taking Man U down in the next match.
“Pardon me.”
Phyllis and Tom both looked up and saw Sylvia standing on the edge of their lawn.
“Hello - my name is Sylvia, and Paul’s one of my coworkers. I brought him some supper, but he’s not answering his door. I was wondering if you could just give this to him when he gets home.” She held out the stack of tupperware.
Phyllis set down her knitting and accepted the boxes from her. “Of course, dear. Do you know Paul well?”
“Well enough. He’s lonely is all.” Sylvia smiled, and Phyllis thought to herself that Sylvia was a very lovely girl to be spending time with a sourpuss like Paul.
“He’s a bit of a loud neighbor at times,” Tom grumbled from behind the paper. “Comes home every night and listens to an hour of opera. Like bloody clockwork, it is. Always the same bloke singing, too. You’d think he’d tire of the stuff.”
Phyllis flapped an impatient hand at her husband. “Don’t mind him. I enjoy opera, and I’m glad Paul is willing to share.”
Sylvia looked puzzled for a moment, but then she laughed softly. “Oh, no, Paul doesn’t listen to opera. He doesn’t have a radio or victrola or anything.”
It was Phyllis’s turn to look puzzled. “Then it must be Mrs. Barnham next door. She must turn it up very loud - she’s nearly deaf, the poor dear.”
Sylvia’s smile was enigmatic. “Perhaps it is Mrs. Barnham. Or perhaps Paul simply likes to sing.” And she walked away.
It wasn’t until Paul returned home later that evening and Nessun Dorma echoed from his open window did Phyllis realize what Sylvia had meant.
(359 words)
Lark
“She sings like a lark,” Joseph offered.
Timothy hid a grimace behind his cup of tea. “And she looks like a bag of boots.”
Marianne’s giggle was high-pitched and particularly annoying. She fanned herself with one of her kid gloves. “It wouldn’t be fair if God bestowed both beauty and such a magnificent voice on her, or one person’s greatness would encroach on Henry’s, and we can’t have that, can we?”
Henry stood in the corner of the parlor, hands clasped behind his back. “I don’t appreciate the insinuations in your comments, Miss Marianne.”
Again with the giggle. Timothy resisted the urge to cover his ears.
“Oh Henry, don’t be so insensitive.” Marianne flapper her glove at him. “Now send the little songbird home and we can talk properly - about marriage and children and things.”
Henry straightened the lapels of his jacket and cast Marianne a cold look. “She’s not just a songbird, and I shall not send her home if I so choose. Good day Timothy, Joseph.”
Marianne could only squeak like a strangled canary when she saw Henry step into the garden to speak to the girl.
“She sings like a lark,” Joseph said again.
Timothy smirked behind his cup of tea. “And she has a brain.”
(210 words)
Timothy hid a grimace behind his cup of tea. “And she looks like a bag of boots.”
Marianne’s giggle was high-pitched and particularly annoying. She fanned herself with one of her kid gloves. “It wouldn’t be fair if God bestowed both beauty and such a magnificent voice on her, or one person’s greatness would encroach on Henry’s, and we can’t have that, can we?”
Henry stood in the corner of the parlor, hands clasped behind his back. “I don’t appreciate the insinuations in your comments, Miss Marianne.”
Again with the giggle. Timothy resisted the urge to cover his ears.
“Oh Henry, don’t be so insensitive.” Marianne flapper her glove at him. “Now send the little songbird home and we can talk properly - about marriage and children and things.”
Henry straightened the lapels of his jacket and cast Marianne a cold look. “She’s not just a songbird, and I shall not send her home if I so choose. Good day Timothy, Joseph.”
Marianne could only squeak like a strangled canary when she saw Henry step into the garden to speak to the girl.
“She sings like a lark,” Joseph said again.
Timothy smirked behind his cup of tea. “And she has a brain.”
(210 words)
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Horizon
"You can't go." Sarah stated.
"Why not? There is nothing to keep me here." Seth replied, his words bitter.
"I don't want you to go, that's why." Sarah replied, looking at him hopefully. Seth said that he was leaving. Sarah knew that he hardly ever changed his mind once it was made up.
"Don't you get it? I don't care anymore. Not about you, not about this place, nothing. There is absolutely nothing to keep me here in this place. The sooner I leave the better for everyone. Mostly the best for me." Seth carefully cleaned the lenses of his sunglasses and placed them on his nose. His motorcycle was propped on its kickstand beside him, waiting to take him away.
"Is there anything I can say to make you change your mind?" Sarah asked, resigned to the fact that he was leaving.
"No. Nothing. Goodbye Sarah, I did enjoy knowing you. If we ever cross paths again, it will bring me pleasure." Seth mounted his bike and kicked it to life, it's throaty roar silencing further conversation.
Sarah watched Seth ride away.
"Bring me that Horizon," Seth said as he rode away from his life.
"Why not? There is nothing to keep me here." Seth replied, his words bitter.
"I don't want you to go, that's why." Sarah replied, looking at him hopefully. Seth said that he was leaving. Sarah knew that he hardly ever changed his mind once it was made up.
"Don't you get it? I don't care anymore. Not about you, not about this place, nothing. There is absolutely nothing to keep me here in this place. The sooner I leave the better for everyone. Mostly the best for me." Seth carefully cleaned the lenses of his sunglasses and placed them on his nose. His motorcycle was propped on its kickstand beside him, waiting to take him away.
"Is there anything I can say to make you change your mind?" Sarah asked, resigned to the fact that he was leaving.
"No. Nothing. Goodbye Sarah, I did enjoy knowing you. If we ever cross paths again, it will bring me pleasure." Seth mounted his bike and kicked it to life, it's throaty roar silencing further conversation.
Sarah watched Seth ride away.
"Bring me that Horizon," Seth said as he rode away from his life.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Lesser
“Just because there’s a lesser of two evils doesn’t mean there’s a good choice,” I said.
Joanna sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “This is one of those horrible choices in life where you have to actually choose to do something, and no one wins in the end.”
“Except him.”
“He’s not really winning if he’s dead.”
“But Gray will be dead too.” I sank down on the window seat and stared at my hands. Every time I closed my eyes I could see Gray’s smile and his eyes and feel his lips against mine as he made me promise to see this through.
And then I could see Luke’s face overlaying his, the same features and wide smile, but with a cruel twist and with a dark glitter in his eyes, and I wanted to cry.
Joanna sat down beside me. “Emma, if what you say is true --”
I jerked away from her, rose to my feet. “You mean even now, you still don’t believe me?”
Joanna took a deep breath. She had that expression on her face, the one she wore the time she told me I’d completely botched my New Historicism essay. But this wasn’t a damned term paper.
“Look, I know you and Luke really, really don’t get along --”
“You don’t know Luke. You’ve never seen what he really is --”
“He’s the boss’s son and bratty, I get it --” Joanna began, and then a voice singing cut us both off.
Luke leaned in the doorway, hands in his pockets, his smile too innocent to be sweet. The song was from Sweeney Todd. “I feel you...Johanna...”
Joanna cast him a dirty look.
“I’ll steal you...Johanna...”
I opened my mouth to offer the obvious riposte, but he beat me to it.
“Speak of the devil.”
(301 words)
Joanna sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “This is one of those horrible choices in life where you have to actually choose to do something, and no one wins in the end.”
“Except him.”
“He’s not really winning if he’s dead.”
“But Gray will be dead too.” I sank down on the window seat and stared at my hands. Every time I closed my eyes I could see Gray’s smile and his eyes and feel his lips against mine as he made me promise to see this through.
And then I could see Luke’s face overlaying his, the same features and wide smile, but with a cruel twist and with a dark glitter in his eyes, and I wanted to cry.
Joanna sat down beside me. “Emma, if what you say is true --”
I jerked away from her, rose to my feet. “You mean even now, you still don’t believe me?”
Joanna took a deep breath. She had that expression on her face, the one she wore the time she told me I’d completely botched my New Historicism essay. But this wasn’t a damned term paper.
“Look, I know you and Luke really, really don’t get along --”
“You don’t know Luke. You’ve never seen what he really is --”
“He’s the boss’s son and bratty, I get it --” Joanna began, and then a voice singing cut us both off.
Luke leaned in the doorway, hands in his pockets, his smile too innocent to be sweet. The song was from Sweeney Todd. “I feel you...Johanna...”
Joanna cast him a dirty look.
“I’ll steal you...Johanna...”
I opened my mouth to offer the obvious riposte, but he beat me to it.
“Speak of the devil.”
(301 words)
Thingmabob
"You know, if you can't fix it with a hammer; you have an electrical problem." Brian piped up from beside the machine where his brother was working.
"Hand me that doohickey will you?" Mark asked, reaching out from under the machine.
"Which dojigger are you taking about?" Brian responded, sitting in the chair and looking at all the various tools.
"The doodad that is curved at the point," Mark replied, rolling his eyes even though his brother couldn't see it.
"Don't roll your eyes at me," Brian said, "There are six doodads with curved ends. Which one do you want?"
"Just hand me any widget, just make sure it's not to big," Mark said.
Brian handed Mark a tool that vaguely resembled a curved vice grip. "Here." Brian watched Mark struggle with it for a moment, "are you done yet?"
"Nope, we're missing a thingamabob." Mark said, crawling out from under the machine.
"What kind of thingamabob?"
"A switch type button thingamabob that will reset the unit." Mark made a vague motion with his hands to describe the piece.
"One like this?" Brian held up a bit of machinery.
"That's it!" Mark whisked the bit from his brother and crawled under the machine again. A few seconds later the machine gave a heave and rumbled to life.
"Hand me that doohickey will you?" Mark asked, reaching out from under the machine.
"Which dojigger are you taking about?" Brian responded, sitting in the chair and looking at all the various tools.
"The doodad that is curved at the point," Mark replied, rolling his eyes even though his brother couldn't see it.
"Don't roll your eyes at me," Brian said, "There are six doodads with curved ends. Which one do you want?"
"Just hand me any widget, just make sure it's not to big," Mark said.
Brian handed Mark a tool that vaguely resembled a curved vice grip. "Here." Brian watched Mark struggle with it for a moment, "are you done yet?"
"Nope, we're missing a thingamabob." Mark said, crawling out from under the machine.
"What kind of thingamabob?"
"A switch type button thingamabob that will reset the unit." Mark made a vague motion with his hands to describe the piece.
"One like this?" Brian held up a bit of machinery.
"That's it!" Mark whisked the bit from his brother and crawled under the machine again. A few seconds later the machine gave a heave and rumbled to life.
Monday, April 13, 2009
Bookstore
“This is your ideal job? After all those years of school, you want to work in a bookstore?” Maria’s skepticism was completely understandable, but there was more to The Written Haven than a mere bookstore.
“First of all, I don’t work here - I’m technically in-house counsel.” Sarah knew her title didn’t mean much, especially as she was wearing jeans, a faded t-shirt, and her favorite, shapeless, dark green sweater. “The rules of professional ethics forbid me from being an actual partner in the corporation, but for all intents and purposes, I am. And it’s not just a bookstore - it’s also a publishing house.”
Maria prodded a volume of Harry Potter. “You saying you published these?”
Sarah swatted at her hand. “Of course not - we carry popular titles, obviously. But we also have a rare collection of first editions, and then those shelves over there --” they took up half of the store -- “hold everything we publish in-house.”
Maria wandered over toward the shelves, inspected covers and titles with the air of someone who was an expert. Sarah reminded herself that Maria thought Vogue was high literature and tried to smile.
“So...you publish poetry.”
“And novels, and non-fiction, and short stories. Also graphic novels.”
Maria’s eyes lit up. “How graphic?”
Sarah’s mouth twisted into a moue of distaste. “Not porn, Maria. Comic books. Only not superheroes.”
“What’s the point of a comic book without a superhero?”
“I had to learn that after all those years of school.” Sarah plucked a volume out of Maria’s hands and replaced it gently on the shelf. She’d worked hard, inking that volume. Mark had done the cover, and together he and Joanna had helped the writer get his art all picked out. It was one of their most popular titles to date.
And then Maria lit on the first volume of Numbers Untold. “You write anything sold on these shelves? Under a pseudo-whatsit - a pen name?”
Sarah smiled enigmatically. “Well, you’d have to read an actual book to find out.”
(340 words)
“First of all, I don’t work here - I’m technically in-house counsel.” Sarah knew her title didn’t mean much, especially as she was wearing jeans, a faded t-shirt, and her favorite, shapeless, dark green sweater. “The rules of professional ethics forbid me from being an actual partner in the corporation, but for all intents and purposes, I am. And it’s not just a bookstore - it’s also a publishing house.”
Maria prodded a volume of Harry Potter. “You saying you published these?”
Sarah swatted at her hand. “Of course not - we carry popular titles, obviously. But we also have a rare collection of first editions, and then those shelves over there --” they took up half of the store -- “hold everything we publish in-house.”
Maria wandered over toward the shelves, inspected covers and titles with the air of someone who was an expert. Sarah reminded herself that Maria thought Vogue was high literature and tried to smile.
“So...you publish poetry.”
“And novels, and non-fiction, and short stories. Also graphic novels.”
Maria’s eyes lit up. “How graphic?”
Sarah’s mouth twisted into a moue of distaste. “Not porn, Maria. Comic books. Only not superheroes.”
“What’s the point of a comic book without a superhero?”
“I had to learn that after all those years of school.” Sarah plucked a volume out of Maria’s hands and replaced it gently on the shelf. She’d worked hard, inking that volume. Mark had done the cover, and together he and Joanna had helped the writer get his art all picked out. It was one of their most popular titles to date.
And then Maria lit on the first volume of Numbers Untold. “You write anything sold on these shelves? Under a pseudo-whatsit - a pen name?”
Sarah smiled enigmatically. “Well, you’d have to read an actual book to find out.”
(340 words)
Welt
A welt was forming quickly where David had just taken a blow from a bokken, his arm had gone numb from the blow; but sensation returned rapidly, his arm protesting the abuse.
David had almost lost his grip on the practice sword, his palms slick with the sweat of exertion.
"You're getting better Dave," James said. He was rubbing at his shoulder as well.
"It reminds me of a dance," David said, taking his place again.
"Yes, the dance of death."
James whirled the bokken over his head and attacked again.
David blocked, flowing through the forms that were becoming second nature to him.
David had almost lost his grip on the practice sword, his palms slick with the sweat of exertion.
"You're getting better Dave," James said. He was rubbing at his shoulder as well.
"It reminds me of a dance," David said, taking his place again.
"Yes, the dance of death."
James whirled the bokken over his head and attacked again.
David blocked, flowing through the forms that were becoming second nature to him.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Bending
“If you keep bending that, it’ll break,” Carolyn said absently.
Greg looked mildly guilty and set down her metal bookmark. “Are you done yet?”
“You know I have a big case coming up. I need to prep.” Her desk was stacked with files and folders, some of which looked liable to topple off the edge at a sneeze.
“Right now it just looks like you’re cutting up important paperwork into tiny strips.” Maybe there was a reason she’d never had a long-term relationship. If she worked this hard when she was interested in dating, how hard had she worked before? No one else was in the office this late on a Saturday, not even his father, and he was one of the founding senior partners.
“This is my method. It worked in law school, it worked in my first trial, and it’ll work now.” Carolyn glanced up at him. “You’re bored.”
He nodded.
She studied for a long moment, then said, “There’s a digital camera and a spare cartridge in my away bag. I have one more hour of work. You have one hour to make a decent short film.”
Greg’s eyebrows went up, but her expression was completely serious. A grin spread across his face. “You’re on, litigator,” he said.
Her smile in return was radiant. “When I got done with work, you better be too.”
(228 words)
Greg looked mildly guilty and set down her metal bookmark. “Are you done yet?”
“You know I have a big case coming up. I need to prep.” Her desk was stacked with files and folders, some of which looked liable to topple off the edge at a sneeze.
“Right now it just looks like you’re cutting up important paperwork into tiny strips.” Maybe there was a reason she’d never had a long-term relationship. If she worked this hard when she was interested in dating, how hard had she worked before? No one else was in the office this late on a Saturday, not even his father, and he was one of the founding senior partners.
“This is my method. It worked in law school, it worked in my first trial, and it’ll work now.” Carolyn glanced up at him. “You’re bored.”
He nodded.
She studied for a long moment, then said, “There’s a digital camera and a spare cartridge in my away bag. I have one more hour of work. You have one hour to make a decent short film.”
Greg’s eyebrows went up, but her expression was completely serious. A grin spread across his face. “You’re on, litigator,” he said.
Her smile in return was radiant. “When I got done with work, you better be too.”
(228 words)
Moonshine
David sat on the dirty floor, knees pulled to his chest, arms resting on his knees. A bottle of clear liquid hung from one limp hand; the bottle bore the XX of an ancient bottle of liquor. David knocked back another mouthful of the homemade gin and shuddered, sucking in a sharp breath and exhaling; the liquor burning as it went down. The sun filtered dimly through a window thick with accumulated dust and grime. The air was almost as dusty as the window. Old wooden crates were stacked high in the abandoned warehouse, many of them full of the old moonshine that he was now drinking, bottle by bottle. More than a dozen bottles were strewn empty around him.
He had been hiding out here for a few days, not ready to face the world again, a face haunting his mind and soul. David neither knew nor cared anymore what day it was; it was hard to focus through the haze of alcohol, he didn't know if it had been two or three days. His gun was loaded on the ground beside him.
David pulled himself out of his stupor enough to recognize footsteps echoing through the warehouse and the soft whisper of voices.
"I'm pretty sure he's here," one voice said.
"Are you sure? It doesn't look like anyone had been in here for years." a second voice said.
"The dust near the door was disturbed." the first voice responded.
David picked up his gun. Even through the alcoholic haze his hand was steady, his aim sure; his other hand sill held a bottle of gin.
Through blurry eyes David saw two figures come around one of the stacks of boxes.
"Boss?" Steve whispered, shocked at the state he found his commander in. He exchanged a look with Joe.
David lowered his gun, "Hey Steve, how you doing?" He slurred. "Is that Joe with you? Hey Joe, where are the others?"
Steve waved Joe to take a perimeter. He approached David slowly and sat beside him, shaking his head when David offered him the bottle. Steve watched as David swallowed more poison, he reached over and gently took the bottle from David's hand.
David thought about protesting, but decided that it wasn't worth the trouble. He leaned his head back against the crate behind him, closing his eyes. He saw again the cooling body on the ground before him.
Steve watched his commanders body go limp as he passed out from the booze. He let out a breath and shook his head. He had never seen his boss like this. He didn't know what had driven his commander here, or what had happened, he just knew he had to get him back to the base.
"Joe!" Steve called to his subordinate, "let's go. Grab his knees." Steve grabbed David under the arms as Joe took his legs.
They carried him out of the warehouse and placed him in the back of the waiting van, Mark and Brian in the front. Mark stepped on the gas as the back doors closed.
(500)
He had been hiding out here for a few days, not ready to face the world again, a face haunting his mind and soul. David neither knew nor cared anymore what day it was; it was hard to focus through the haze of alcohol, he didn't know if it had been two or three days. His gun was loaded on the ground beside him.
David pulled himself out of his stupor enough to recognize footsteps echoing through the warehouse and the soft whisper of voices.
"I'm pretty sure he's here," one voice said.
"Are you sure? It doesn't look like anyone had been in here for years." a second voice said.
"The dust near the door was disturbed." the first voice responded.
David picked up his gun. Even through the alcoholic haze his hand was steady, his aim sure; his other hand sill held a bottle of gin.
Through blurry eyes David saw two figures come around one of the stacks of boxes.
"Boss?" Steve whispered, shocked at the state he found his commander in. He exchanged a look with Joe.
David lowered his gun, "Hey Steve, how you doing?" He slurred. "Is that Joe with you? Hey Joe, where are the others?"
Steve waved Joe to take a perimeter. He approached David slowly and sat beside him, shaking his head when David offered him the bottle. Steve watched as David swallowed more poison, he reached over and gently took the bottle from David's hand.
David thought about protesting, but decided that it wasn't worth the trouble. He leaned his head back against the crate behind him, closing his eyes. He saw again the cooling body on the ground before him.
Steve watched his commanders body go limp as he passed out from the booze. He let out a breath and shook his head. He had never seen his boss like this. He didn't know what had driven his commander here, or what had happened, he just knew he had to get him back to the base.
"Joe!" Steve called to his subordinate, "let's go. Grab his knees." Steve grabbed David under the arms as Joe took his legs.
They carried him out of the warehouse and placed him in the back of the waiting van, Mark and Brian in the front. Mark stepped on the gas as the back doors closed.
(500)
Project Assignment # 24 - Once Again with feeling.....One word Challenge
This week to keep it simple, I know that finals are coming up soon, we will use the One word Challenge. Any word you choose for seven days. Keep it under 500 words but no less than 100. This is to help get the creative juices flowing again. I know I sorely need that. Probably Nagi needs it less. And come hell or high water, I will write every day this week!
Overview # 23 Fanfiction remix
This week was harder for me than I expected. I like writing fanfiction but unfortunately, I am not very good at it. It took me longer to write these than some others. I also found that I do not know the characters as well as I might have liked. I know I slacked again. It seems like I can get out a few and then life takes over and I hardly can find time. This next week should be better though apart from Monday. I will be making a conscious effort to write everyday.
I found it tough to fit what I wanted into just ten words, but it is a good exercise in concise writing which I should be practicing. I also realized that I don't have a whole lot of fanfictions. Just a hand full of shows that I watch. I suppose I could have done books...
I found it tough to fit what I wanted into just ten words, but it is a good exercise in concise writing which I should be practicing. I also realized that I don't have a whole lot of fanfictions. Just a hand full of shows that I watch. I suppose I could have done books...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)