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Have You Ever?
Posted by Siobhan Pascal
Posted in Inspirations, Poems
Tags: have you ever, i hope you like it, love poem, maybe, original, poems, poetry, throwback to this summer
Virgin Lane
Posted by Siobhan Pascal
Virgin Lane
The one o’clock bell sounded and relief, followed promptly by anxiety flooded through our systems as we rushed to complete the necessary tasks for dismisal and reward our growling stomachs. Our eyes flittered from the analogue clock which hung below the crucifix, to the teacher who was once again repeating what we already knew. There was no mad rush to get out of the class as soon as the bell rang like we had seen in the American T.V. shows, there was only order. Anything less than complete order would be punished and after five long years, we had all realized it was easier to comply with the rules that had been impressed upon us. So we waited impatiently, feet tapping, hands quietly packing away small things here and there, eyes trained on the clock watching our precious time dissipate. Not even the afternoon prayer was sacred against the time it took up in our schedule. Even the order that had bound us together during the long day was quickly slipping away under the burden of our anxiety and impatience.
Finally, under the allowance of dismisal, it completely collapsed. The orderly and attentive class gave way to absolute anarchy in a rush of movement to prepare for the appointed time. To say that we were all raring towards the same goal would have been a gross overlooking of our individual motivations, but the mood was infectious. All over the classroom girls were rushing through afternoon chores, adjusting their uniform, packing their bag and recombing their hair. The almost universal dishevelment that had slowly crept upon us during the course of a stressful day was utterly abandon in a flurry of movement for the refined put-together look that we sought to emulate.
And despite our hustling and flurrying, the impatient “stupes” from friends, we still had a little extra time before our interim departure. Time that I could only pass by watching the younger forms go scurrying out of the school gates. My lips pursed in sanctimonious distaste for the little ones, ever ready to make a discourteous comment on their intentions and actions.
The courtyard was about half full with students, by the time we finally stepped out of the shade of the gallery, and into the 1:20 sun. We squinted our eyes and waited for them to readjust against the harsh glare from so many white shirts and cars. It was one of the few breaths of freedom during the demanding last two years of highschool. Stepping onto Virgin Lane was like stepping into the real world where other things existed outside the grueling demands of CSEC. We confidently strolled down the lane, momentarily forgetting how much we felt 80 degrees of Fahrenheit under the layers of our uniform.
Virgin Lane was to me a pompous reminder of where we stood among other schools. A reminder that we were more organized and more orderly than the boys; and more mannerly and better kept than the other girls. At least that was the stereotype which I used to keep my head high. Yet that paled in comparison to the reason that I actually took limited time and mustered sparse energy to stride across this mess of pot hole ridden road, eaten up sidewalk, and throngs of teenagers.
We were here to see friends that the catholic education system said we would do so much better if we were not in a classroom with. (And they were right). The 30 minutes we spent slowly going from person to person in kind embrace, passing a few words between before we hurried of to our home or other classes, was the real reason. We were a generation that prized friends in the same way and sometimes more than we prized our family members (A fact that parents often noted with disdain). Therefore when we found that limited window to socialize and greet and smile and pretend we were better than the other forms who were doing the exact same thing, it would be shameful of us not to take it.
It is only astounding that the same place we would count down the seconds until we reached during highschool was the same place we dread passing by afterwards.
Random Writing Challenge 003
Posted by supersparkl3
Just one quick command, a slight tug from the warm soft hands cradling my grip. The hand is steady, but I can feel their heart beat, ba-bump,pulsing through the cold metal, making my insides quiver. The hand releases me slightly, completely releasing the trigger for a moment before clutching me with twice as much strength. The index finger taps, then pulls away, taps, then pulls away, taps, then pulls away. Squeeze it already, pull the trigger, fire the weapon! But no one hears the cries of a gun, because we don’t enjoy the kill, we don’t feel the passion, the fear, the strength of the wielder.
Small electric currents course from my cold casing through the hand and up the arm. I will not be toyed with. Pull the trigger I try to tell the nerves, the easiest system to travel through. Pull the trigger I whisper to the brain, pull, pull, pull. The arm drops meekly I must be too heavy. This one is losing resolve, they always lose resolve. The interference their silly consciences send to the brain is always stronger than my desire, always louder than my messages.
At least one of my messages must have gotten through, because in one swift motion I am raised, aimed, fired, and dropped. The floor vibrates as the hand drops me. Fool! They will find your finger prints, they will trap me forever in a hot plastic bag, come back! The hand has already left though, so the brain doesn’t hear me. The warm sticky blood of the victim slides all around me seeping into the cracks between my gears, slicking over my cold metal grip and dying it red. The blood mingles with the oil in my gears and the very things I eagerly instill in my victim crawl into me. Cold tingly pulses race through my metals, shaking me like the hand with a faulty resolve. Fear, it feels like being electrocuted, it feels slimy and cold, it feels like the midnight winter breeze. Desperation, it creates a strange pressure within me, crushing me without moving any of my gears. The rest is the cold sticky silence that seeps into me, and threatens to pave the way for rust to creep into me. The silence seeps further and further into me as the wait drags on. Maybe I won’t end up in a hot plastic bag, but if I have no more hosts the wait is just as bad. The weight of the silence is something I have never heard the name of, maybe this is what the conscience tries to stop the brain from feeling. The heavy silence that weighs down on the dead, maybe it follows the host. Death the silence whispers as an ice cold wind drifts through the room, rustling shriveled white lilies in the middle of August in Arizona.
Tags: abandonment, blood, cold, connections, conscience, creativity, darkness, death, desertion, destruction, dreams, emotions, Failure, fear, heart, imagination, instinct, mystery, nature, nervous system, original, personifiocation, point of view, power, random writing challenge, Sharing, story, struggle, weapons, winds
Doc (01)- Chapter 5
Posted by Siobhan Pascal
[Read Chapter 1 here]
[Read Chapter 2 here]
[Read Chapter 3 here]
[Read Chapter 4 here]
CHAPTER 5
I almost felt defeated as I descended the stairs to The Warren. I had ditched Agent Martin a while ago, disappearing like a brief whisper of wind. I kept myself going solely by the will to protect my friends from whatever, whoever was coming. I could not let them down, so when I saw Seth standing at the bar I nearly cried.
He turned to me, as if he had sensed my presence, his eyes widened shamelessly. I met his eyes and felt knots in my stomach, my pace quickened as I walked over to where he was standing.
I leaned nonchalantly against the counter and forced a smile, trying to soften my eyes. He was rocking an empty glass back and forth on his fingertips. I pushed it away from him and waited for him to speak. Unlike Ray he would not wrap his arms around my waist or make any gestures that I would rebuff him for.
“You look beautiful. What’s the occasion?” He smiled, turning the full force of his brown eyes onto me.
I was tempted to tell him I had a date, just to see his reaction. “I had a job.” My throat thickened and I turned to face the crowd of happy people.
“Mikki, what’s wrong?” I felt his hand brush mine uncertainly.
I took a deep breath and turned to face the bar, removing my hand from his grasp. “It’s nothing.” I looked down at the counter, struggling to retain my composure.
“Are you sure?” Seth’s voice, as usual nearly broke me.
I looked him in the eye and rested my hand on his. “I’m fine, just a little tired.” I smiled softly.
He grabbed my arm when I tried to walk away and pulled me back. I sighed whirled back to him. I raised my eyebrows expectantly, but for a long time he did not say anything.
“What’s wrong?” His eyes searched mine.
“Nothing. Can I go now?”
Neither of us believed me, but he would not hold me here forever. He relinquished my arms and I moved away from him.
As I climbed up the stairs and reflected on my life. It was a Friday night and I was at a nightclub, by myself, doing work, while my other friends were out on dates. I suppose this spoke volumes about me but majority of me did not really care. Live a little I remember Ray telling me once. I scoffed; if I lived anymore I would end up dead, or worse. But still the risks I took were all calculated nothing I did was that much of a risk and if it was, it was a necessary one.
La vie disco that is how I used to imagine my life being, nothing but fun and party in between games of death. I clutched the key to the booth tightly in my hand as I gazed out at the crowd.
“La vie disco.” I whispered to myself as my resolve wavered a bit. “Maybe another day.” I sighed and unlocked the door.
It felt empty in here without the constant bicker and banter of all my friends, sometimes all I wanted was peace and quiet but right now was not one of those times. I left the lights off and sat with my back facing the club, normally sitting in such a vulnerable position would send tingles up my spine but I turned the TV onto the security camera feed. The light from the TV eerily illuminated my face and sparse areas of the room.
Taking a deep breath I refocused my thoughts and pulled out the ledger from under the table. I unlocked the crude wooden box and swung the lid open. Most people would have thought this to insufficient security, but one eye scan, voice test, finger scan, two passwords and photo recognition later I had to disagree. The security this box had bordered overkill.
I picked up the ledger from inside its fort and began to flip through it. The ledger itself held nothing but codes and long strings of numbers and symbols, they were impossible to break simply because they had been chosen at complete random. I removed what could possibly be the only tablet in the world that did not receive Wi-Fi, Bluetooth or even radio waves and entered what could also possibly be the longest string of symbols I ever memorized. Next, I opened a unique app that Trick had created himself and entered one of the ledger’s codes.
I stared blankly at the screen and silently cursed Trick. What I was looking for was there, but it was in about four different languages or rather the slang version of those languages and still in code. I had nearly forgotten how tedious the ledgers were and how much work G had put into making them virtually useless to anyone but us. It was almost unlike him.
I felt defeated. I had lost the vigor to do what I came to do, this is why I preferred having Trick with me when I did this or Ray or even Seth. I just hated all this work. I got up left the ledger and the tablet as they were on the table and left the booth. Part of me knew I was not really giving up because otherwise I would have put the ledger and tablet back where they belonged.
Outside the booth the music was still going at full force and I had nearly forgotten about it. There were a lot of people all around; some drunken couples were trying to convince the guards to let them up here. Seth still stood at the bar, but he was soon joined by, and left with a lady. My heart sank a little bit and as much as I did not want to go in there and translate those documents I even less wanted to be around all these happy people.
I went back inside and made some coffee with the electric percolator that sat in the corner. I was not really a coffee drinker but seeing as I detested alcohol even more, I would need it tonight.
I don’t drink coffee or alcohol, it’s Friday night and I have turned down all offers to go anywhere. Something was wrong with me. I just was not going to figure out what that was tonight.
Too many cups of coffee and an untold number of hours later I had before me a list of things that bothered me about this job, besides the fact that it had gone wrong. I yawned for the umpteenth and tried to wipe the sleep from my eyes. I knew what the next logical step was, but I could not remember. The caffeine had begun to work against me and I knew it was no use now.
Without checking the time I pulled out my phone and hit speed dial, as it rang I began packing things up and turning back on the numerous booby traps.
“Hello?” An attractive yet groggy male voice yawned.
“Kay, it is Mikki. I’m not coming to the studio tomorrow.” I locked the booth and began to make my way down the steps. The club was closed and maintenance was cleaning up, I was too tired to properly register any of this.
“Don’t you mean later today?” Kay said still groggy but a little more patient. I could hear the smile in his voice.
“Huh? I know I woke you, but what time is it?”
“Mikki, it is 4:15 in the morning. Of course you woke me up.” In the background I could hear a woman’s voice shouting. Kay answered with even more patience in his voice “No one babe. I’ll be right there.” My finger nearly hit the wrong button as I disabled my keypad. To me he said “Mikki I have to go see you… well….eventually.”
I had barely hit the end button when I hit the first number on my speed dial. I did not like Kay’s fiancée simply because she did not like me.
“What?” G asked testily
“Did I wake you up too?” I laughed a bit as I envisioned G‘s scowling face, but this too worked against me and I felt sadder than ever.
“Almost. What do you want?”
“Call a meeting tomorrow. It’s important.” I related the night’s events to him and hung up soon after.
Mechanically I kicked off my shoes and stripped out of my dress and stockings. If I took a shower now I would knock out in it so I changed into a large t-shirt and a pair of boxers. I collapsed into my bed exhausted.
It was one o’clock when I woke up or so the clock on my phone claimed I had overslept. Or so the clock claimed. At times like this I like to quote Kurt Vonnegut as he once said in Slaughterhouse-five “There was nothing I could do about it. As an earthling, I had to believe whatever clocks said- and calendars.” Nevertheless, I needed a clock to believe in seeing as my last one had a bullet hole in it. I rolled off the bed and lay flat on the wood floor for a few minutes before getting up and going about my business.
Fifteen minutes later I was relaxing outstretched on my couch, trying to decide who was most likely to buy me a new clock. Normally I would just ask Lex but she was brining lunch for me today, no need to overburden her. Plus I cringed just thinking at the verbal salvo I would undergo.
Forty minutes later, I placed an assortment of drinks on the coffee table and reclined on my cream sofa. I pondered one whether or not to take out any liquor it depended on how many of them had hangovers. I had no idea where anyone of them went so it was anyone’s game; they all knew where I kept the alcohol that I never drank. I picked up an opaque bottle and swirled its contents around for a moment; if they knew what my hangover cure looked like they would never drink the concoction and then I would be stuck with a bunch of hung over 20 year olds. I sprung up from my seat when someone rapped on the front door. It was probably Trick coming to set up his equipment or maybe it was Lex with my lunch.
I let Trick and Seth in, neither with food, both wearing shades. I slammed the door loudly and laughed mischievously when they cringed. I could tell Trick was glaring at me but I just placed two steel cups in their hands and pointed to the opaque container. I chose not to hear the words that came out of Trick’s mouth after that.
“Anyone else here yet?” He gagged after his first sip.
“Nope.” I threw the remote to Seth and plopped back down on the sofa. Seth sat on the arm chair across from me and flipped through the channels.
When he placed his arm on the back of his chair the collar of his shirt shifted to reveal one end of a dark scar that I knew ran across his entire chest. He was lucky, usually people got off a lot worse.
The huge crowd had risen to its feet as the athletes entered the stadium. We stood in the stands of the Roman amphitheater replica with the hot sun beating down on us with an incomprehensible force. I pulled out a large umbrella because I simply refused to spend the next day tending to my sun burnt skin. I angled the umbrella over G’s head and ignored the protests from other spectators.
I had felt hot, overdressed and sweaty in the ankle length purple tunic, the linen irritated my skin and all the jewelry I wore made too much noise when I moved. I had been firmly convinced that the attendants had gone overboard when I told them to dress me in whatever they liked. There was a Gemini pendant on my tunic, a pair of emerald earrings in my ear, an amethyst amulet around my neck, several bangles and the trinkets from my diadem were constantly knocking at my forehead. I mean really if my enemies could not hear me coming all they would have to do is shine a light in my general direction and I would light up like a god forsaken Christmas tree. G had listened to my rant with his typical patience and waited for me to run out of steam. He could not be any more comfortable in that tunic and heavy toga at least all he wore on was a ring on his finger and a pendant on his tunic.
I exhaled loudly and scrutinized the “athletes” if one could call them that. They were more like pigs being led to the slaughter, even the winner of these fights to the death would die. Most of these fighters were of African descent and seemed to have accepted their fate; they walked with an air of defeat.
I inhaled deeply and gagged. The place had reeked of sweat, decomposition and musk. Heads of the last month’s contestants were still on the long stakes that stood in the middle of the field and despite the cheering of the crows I heard a lion’s roar from under the stands. The winner of the day’s battles would fight the beast and lose.
The traditional seating of an amphitheater had been thrown out the window. The empress sat in a box directly overlooking the battle field. G and I sat in the stands a few rows lower than her box, surrounded by noblemen, dignitaries and their wives. These barbarians were one of the few people who honestly enjoyed this slaughter fest. They disgusted me with their boisterous cheering as they called for the death of innocent citizens. Bellow them in both seating and rank were those who had fallen short of aristocracy and hoped to be elevated to higher ranks. They acted as patriots by attending every ceremony, every battle they gave the largest contributions to this autocratic state and were hardly ever acknowledged. Lastly, in the lowest and the worst seats were the serfs; those abused by the bourgeoisie of this kingdom or rather queendom; those whose tireless labor kept this country going. They were the blackest of the black in contrast with the Caucasian or olive toned Kalinago aristocrats. They were from where people were wrongly accused to provide fighters for this barbaric practice. They were where all the grieving mothers sat.
I turned my attention to the one athlete who stood out among the rest. Despite the fact that all the athletes were supposedly all “criminals” from the lower class and despite the fact that they all stood in the same tattered pants it was clear he was different. This was not because his well-toned body and striking Carib features screamed aristocracy. It was because his will had clearly not left him and we three knew that he refused to die and unlike the others he would survive.
“Well he certainly is impressive.” I said after he threw his last opponent into the thick poles with enough force to snap it. “Seems to have quite the temper too.”
“What makes you say that?” G grinned.
“Besides him throwing the other fighter into the stand when one of these noblemen insulted his mother?”
“Yep”
“He is obviously of aristocratic descent, there are other tournaments for noblemen who want to prove their strengths and yet here he is fighting with the common folk, for his life. He obviously pissed off someone pretty important and the only person with that influence is our dictator. He is either crazy, had a death wish or became blinded by rage. But why not just put him to death at the very moment, or have him executed? Why turn him into a public spectacle? G what exactly happened?”
G did not answer me, instead he stared straight ahead. I could hear him taunting me in his head I have a secret I just won’t tell you. A gong sounded signaling not only the end of our conversation but the beginning of the final battle for the day. Our Carib friend was about to face the beast, presumably a tiger or maybe a bull.
“O.K. Let’s go get him.” G began to get up but I held his arm
“Let’s see him fight first.”
“And when he dies?” G asked incredulously “You can’t fight a lion unarmed. You expect him to survive that?”
“I can’t fight anything unarmed. You’re not here because you are looking for another me. He doesn’t have to defeat the thing, just last 10 minutes.” G began to protest but I cut him off. “Plus, if you intervene now without a plan the empress will have all of us executed.”
He sat back down and began to think.
The guards raised the gate and the creature that slinked out of the gate was not a lion, its fur was too decorated and not a tiger, it was too big. I could not be sure from the distance but the monster was at least 4ft tall and 10ft long. My eyes widen as I took in the tawny creature with the black tiger stripes but tigers did not get that huge. I was completely awestruck I had heard of but never seen a liger in real life.
“Make that 5 minutes.”
The amphitheater was silent for a moment (clearly this was first) before bursting into an uproarious cheer. The stands shook as the spectators stomped and cheered with increased vigor. The liger began to pace around the battlefield with slow moving confidence. The victor rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet waiting for the huge mammal to make its move. I could practically hear G counting down the time.
Suddenly the beast struck with an unmistakable feline like grace, he moved at the last moment and scarcely avoided being crushed by the 400 pound beast. I was shocked at the speed of such a large animal but then again tigers and lions were not known for their slowness.
The liger was coming around again; the Carib had just enough time to deal a deadly blow into the things neck. The liger limped around a bit but shook off whatever pain had been inflicted. It had just occurred to me how fast this man had to be moving to dodge the strikes of such a powerful creature even by a couple of seconds.
The liger swiped at him with its paw but this time the victor was not quick enough. He jumped back but its sharp claws left a diagonal gash across his abdomen. I could not tell how deep the wound was but the force from the blow knocked him off his feet. And now the victor lay on his back bleeding in the middle of a field with a 10ft long liger ready to finish him off while everyone else cheered.
I did not bother look at G as I made my way down the stands I knew what he would want me to do. I walked all the way down to the last stand where the poor and down trodden gave me a wide berth of space and stared at me, some with anger and hatred. But I did not have time to play humanitarian now.
I watched as he fought desperately with the liger for his life but he was beginning to give up. He could not possibly give up when he had such an easy opening in front of him. I somehow managed to lock eyes with him under that mammoth creature and convey my frustration. I pointed to the stake that he had broken off earlier. It lay near his feet the rotting head had rolled off somewhere. He looked back at me incredulously; looking away from this terrifying beast that was in the process of trying to maul his face was hard enough but grabbing that shaft of wood would leave him defenseless. I glared at him irritably (amazing how he had the time to return the look) and mouthed DO IT OR DIE.
At this point I stopped being interested in whether or not he listened to me or not and made my way back to my seat. I could feel a pair of eyes boring into my soul from the empress’s box but at this point I was not sure if I had one. I did not see if he followed my advice or not all I know he got the liger off him long enough for G to blow a dart into its hide.
The same night I found myself on a speed boat with G, and the victor. So we managed to add a short tempered rebel to our motley crew. I hope G was not planning on doing anymore rescuing from Roman era countries. I missed my Wi-Fi. He and G had cast off the cloaks we used to sneak out of the island but I was so cold I decided to leave mine on. Suddenly, someone pulled the hood off my head and expose my face to the chilling sea breeze. I turned to watch the victor sitting next to me, most of his wounds were dressed and there was gauze wrapped around his torso.
“May I help you?”
“You tried to save my life. Thanks”
“Yes. After I told G to leave you in the ring for 5 minutes.”
“I never got your name.”
“Uh huh.” I picked up manila folder and blacked out the name on top leaving all but four letters. I showed it to him. “Everything that is not in this file or is blacked out is no longer necessary. You need to forget everything else.”
He picked up the file and looked at it “My name?”
I shook my head, got up and walked away. I found myself doing a lot of that later, purely out of embarrassment, but it could not be helped.
Not much had changed between now and then, the gash had healed into a dark scar and much like G, Seth had gotten a tattoo on his torso. Thinking back they had gotten theirs at the same time but Seth’s own had much more design so that it was hard to see the ‘h’ among all the intricate lines.
I blinked myself back into reality and realized with dismay that I had been staring, Seth was staring back at me. I broke away my gaze and turned to watch as Trick finished up with the equipment. I hated when he did that it reminded me of Newton’s 3rd law of motion. For every action there is an equal and opposing reaction, I stared he stared; I said hello he said hello; I did nothing he did nothing which sometimes felt like less than nothing. I closed my eyes again and focused on something else anything else.
Eventually everyone arrived and made themselves comfortable. The empty dark container and several pairs of no-longer-need sunshades attested to the miracles that my private brew worked. From the agitated faces around my living room it was clear that G had filled them all in, it felt unnatural to see so many strained faces we were rarely ever this serious by then again our jobs rarely went south. I got up and walked over to the holographic screen Trick had set up.
“I am going to skip the pleasantries; I hate to beat around the bush. This is what we got.” I opened a slideshow on the 72 inch screen and picked up my tablet and brought up my notes. The first picture was of the itinerary “I have to admit that the prep time spent on this job was minimal it was a last minute gig, close to home, minimum difficulty only designed to cover some incurred expenses.
“But last night I went through it again with the fine tooth comb I should have used the first time and found several discrepancies. First the schedule, it is not unusual to have lunch breaks but to move all your guests to a completely different room and leave all your priceless artefacts unprotected? That is a bit too convenient. Then there is Mr. Adams,” I swiped the holographic screen to big up a picture of a large robust man with round rosy cheeks and bulging arms.
“This man has never bought any art, maybe a few things here and there but the only major art purchases are made by his wife. If anyone was to throw a gala it would be her but all paper work dealt only with Mr. Adams.” I flipped through a couple of photos of the same man at several different functions and parities. I zoomed in on his curly French moustache for a moment before returning to my presentation. “He loves to be the center of attention, he commands it and if a camera is in the vicinity it is dominated by him. So why would Mr. Adams host an art gallery of all things, not include his wife and not even bother to show up?” I paused for a while no one asked any questions or made any comments, stress was high. I brought up the picture of the man we knew as Mr. Brandon. “Let me be frank. This man does not exist. He existed last week when we ran background checks but now nobody knows who he is. He disappeared, gone like a ghost.” I grimaced and put down the tablet. “This is a mess.”
G leaned forward, rested his elbows on his leg and clasped his arms in front of him “Now understand, someone is messing with us again. We don’t know who they are or what they want but they are causing too much trouble for us. Between last night and this afternoon we have lost almost all of our prospective clients and jobs. The ones that are left are not worth it. So fix your face and give me ideas.”
I looked up from the plate of food Lex had brought for him and swallowed a mouthful of spaghetti. “Kill them with fire and chemicals!”
“I like that,” Ray pointed to me “especially the chemicals part.”
“Pour hydrochloric acid on them and blind them with burning magnesium” Lex added deviously.
I drank some punch from wine glass and frowned “I guess we’d have to find them first. G when we find them can I kill them?” I asked innocently
He ignored us all.
“Mikki is right,” Mimi conceded. I beamed with pride but Trick stared at her like she had gone mad. “I mean about the finding them first part. We need to find them and draw them out. If we find them and deal with them immediately it will be like smoking a wasp nest. They’ll just go dormant for a while then the problem will start back. Instead we should draw them out first like roaches with bait. We draw a scout out with the promise of food, they bring back the poison to the nest and everyone dies.”
I deliberated this for a moment. “Let’s push them off a cliff.”
Seth groaned. “How do we find them?”
“Well, they’ve messed with two of our previous jobs,” Lex picked up my juice and took a long sip, ignoring my mute protest. “The last one they orchestrated themselves. None of our real clients want to work with us now so the next plausible job that comes by will be from them.”
“Who is to say they have not planned for this and we lead ourselves into a trap?” Trick asked testily “They’ve been anticipating our movements for a while now. We might just be playing into their hand.”
“Then we play along until we have an idea of what their hand is and once I know what they are planning and their resources. I will crush them. We won’t lose.” I pressed at the crease that had formed between Trick’s eyebrows when he frowned and smiled deviously.
Posted in Abstracts, Stories, Unfinished Buissiness
Tags: abstract, change, creativity, darkness, destruction, dreams, Failure, fear, happiness, imagination, Life, original, stories, writing
Doc (01)-Chapter 4
Posted by Siobhan Pascal
[Read Chapter 1 here]
[Read Chapter 2 here]
[Read Chapter 3 here]
CHAPTER 4
I felt out of place as I descended the flight of stairs of the Warren in my combat boots, green camouflage sweat pants, and fitted grey camisole. I did not plan to stay long or go anywhere that required me to wear better clothes. But the funny thing about going to The Warren or anywhere with G when you arrive, leaving is the last thing you want to do.
I plopped down next to Rochelle and avoided the brown eyes across from me. Everyone else was significantly better dressed than me. People with plans, I guessed.
G slid the manila envelopes to us one by one. When everyone had received theirs I picked up mine and weighed it in my hand before slipping it into my pant pocket.
“So. Mikki. Where are you going dressed like that?” Rochelle asked slowly.
“Movies with Kay.” I answered with disinterest.
“You dating him man?” G asked curiously.
I scoffed “No.”
Then Lex joined the inquisition “Does his fiancée know?” She raised her eyebrows when I shrugged.
“Mikki loving an engaged man?” Ray exclaimed. Across from me Seth’s jaw dropped in faux surprised.
“Yuh dirty.” G shook his head. These people were unbelievable!
“I am not!” I said exasperatedly. I put my head on the table. I knew that there was nothing more to say once they got any ideas into their heads. “Don’t you have dates?”
Everyone checked their watches, I smiled satisfactorily.
“Ghos, I gone.” Seth said as he stood.
“I wonder what woman he have waiting for him.” I teased.
Lex nodded “Is always a woman.”
“Doe worry it will good for them.” I laughed
His face tensed. “All you would know wii.”
But of course “Have fun.” I said sarcastically.
He sucked his teeth “I will.”
“Yea I gone too.” Naj got up and followed Seth out.
“All who have plans just go.” G dismissed them testily.
After five minutes the only ones left at the table were G, Trick and I. I looked over at G and grimaced. I wonder how far she had gotten.
“Watch.” I said calmly.
G looked at his bare wrist “Dammit, Lex!” he ran to the exit to retrieve his watch. Her pickpocket skills were getting better.
I looked over to Trick, his long legs knocked against my chair he was about Ray’s height but his clothing choice made him look shorter than he actually was. His skin tone was too dark to be called russet but it was close, he scowled almost as much as Naj and it was causing a crease between his eyebrows when he relaxed his face. I think of all my friends he had the sharpest tongue, it was probably the reason we did not talk much. I was never a big fan of giving shame to people who I could not take it from.
“I know she didn’t take anything from you. But don’t you have some sort of girlfriend?” I picked up a nacho covered chip and popped it into my mouth.
“Yep. She meeting me here.” Trick followed my example and grabbed some chips. “What about you?”
“Oh I lied.” Absentmindedly, I picked up G’s drink and took a sip. I coughed as the bitter alcohol hit my tongue. “Ack!”
“Serve you right.” G returned with his watch and took his seat. “Trick, your woman by the bar.”
We gazed at each other for a little while before I spoke. “Did you know Trick has a girlfriend?”
G rolled his eyes and did not bother to answer me; instead he began to hum one of his favorite songs.
I sat and reminisced about the first time I heard the song as G scanned the crowds for someone to occupy his time.
I could practically feel Jack Frost nipping at my nose as the frigid cold descended around me. I had anxiously rushed into the church where the warm air embraced me like an old friend, one I had not seen in ages. It was the last job I did by myself. I could feel the bubbly ambiance that filled the room, as elated faces hovered around me, suffocating me with their unbridled joy. However the wedding was taking an unusually long time to begin and that left an uneasy feeling of discontent.
My eyes took in the pure white scene before me. It was like the far reaching hand that laid the blanket of unsoiled white snow outside the church had extended its fingers to bleach every decoration. The pillars were festooned with white garlands and small bouquets of white roses hung all over the church in a way that left me mesmerized and almost overwhelmed by it all. I was afraid to touch the ornaments lest they be dirtied somehow by the uncleanness of my soul. But where was the bridal party?
The flautist had begun to play in order to appease the restless congregation; the rest of the orchestra took up their instruments and began to play a slow melancholy song. It eerily filled the church with inexplicable familiarity; I subconsciously began to hum along to quell the growing sense of panic. Soon the sounds of my hyperventilating blocked out the music, but nothing could block out the high pitched shrill like scream that echoed through the church. It was like having someone put a full stop at the end of an unfinished work because it left non-understandable nothingness.
I turned to the entrance where the bride had collapsed, a large butcher’s knife protruded from her lifeless body. Her blood stained the white a lethal red as it seeped out. I exhaled calmly as I watched the people converge on her like a tidal wave on a pitifully unprotected beach. In the dark shadow cast by the large church doors I could vaguely make out a stout figure. So G had gotten to her before I could.
I exited the church whistling “Pack up Your Troubles” I followed him into the eerily comforting woods and never looked backed. I would later learn the orchestra’s song to be his favorite. In truth I doubt I would have survived much longer in that business without him. I might have been a predator but I belonged in a pack and I was lucky to have found one.
A sharp pinch on my forearm brought me out of my reverie. Before I could complain G pointed to the flat screen TV that hung on the wall above the bar. The view the screen panned a wood paneled room lit with natural light. G did not bother raise the volume because we could both read lips.
I ground my teeth in mute frustration as the facts played out in my head. What: Robbery; who: unknown; when: shortly after Lex and I left; where: the art gallery why: unknown; how: unknown. That was too many unknowns. G and I exchanged a long glance that made it clear we were both on the same page. Before I could suggest we go to the closed booth G suddenly looked away from me. I followed his gaze to a young and familiar looking girl. If it was anyone else I would have chastised them but it was G and I made allowances for G because he was G.
“Go, I got this.” I sighed as I stared at the ceiling with a stubborn pout.
“Nah, I can just cancel.”
I glared at him for a short moment. “No. I said go so be gone with you!”
He sucked his teeth “I’ll just stay longer.” We glared at each other for another moment and I was afraid he would win again and I would start to smile. Luckily, for once I won out and he got up.
“Tell her I said hi.” G raised his eye brows at the sincerity of my voice. I really did mean it; there was no hostility, sarcasm or that I-don’t-really-care-but-if-you-don’t-you’ll-never-hear-the-end-of-it tone. I liked her, she was nice.
There was no point in having him stay, a short call confirmed that the art collectors would be employing a different company. There was that there were not many groups that specialized in everything the way that we did, and fewer people who, in our world that covertly organized Temp Agencies. For the inexperienced it was hard to procure work or service so loner mercenaries allied themselves (in the shallowest sense of the word) with liaisons who acted as referrers. They then sold their information to the client whose needs fit the mercenary’s specific skill. Several liaisons worked out of this general area and only one was likely to be handling such a group if at all. And if the latter was the case he would at least have some ideas, although he would need some coercing.
I left the club and shadow walked through the parking lot until I came up to the FBI van. I picked the lock and pulled the door open and allowed the musty air to rush out of the back van. Three surprised agents turned towards the door to see their subject of surveillance climb into their van.
I leaned against one of the numerous screens in the tiny van “I have a proposition for you gentlemen.”
“Uh, ma’am we’ll have to ask you to leave.” The eldest man here spoke up, clearly he was flustered and did not know what to make of the situation.
“Shush, I’m talking.” It was imperative that I retain control, give them no opportunity to oppose me but always have an escape route. “You have been following me for what two, three weeks? None of your bugs ever stay for long or pick up anything of use. How long can the bureau afford to keep this operation alive?” Their eyes evaded my comfortable gaze. “How about you just tell me what you want.” There was silence, and eyes flicked towards handcuffs and guns, an unnoticeable anxiety began to come over, luckily my phone beeped just in time.
“Hold that thought.” Before I had confronted the FBI I had told Trick what I was up to. As soon as I had stepped into the van he had begun to hack into the FBI network from his phone and had sent me the case file. “O.K. So you got a tip about a major money laundering ring being operated out from this club. Some anomalies in the accounts, that’s a pretty big number to estimate. Seems like some accurate information.” They had the correct information but the wrong conclusion. I am going to kill Riley.
“Are you confirming that what is here is true?” The newest agent was the first to ask a valuable question. Although, I doubted that he would have processed everything that was happening, he had skipped past several layers of confusion quite quickly.
“I like you, you’re smart, Agent……” I scrolled trough the case file for the picture that matched that boyish face. “Martin. But if I was this aware that you were following do you honestly believe I would lead you straight to the center of my operations, if I had one?” I smiled slyly I stood up and moved closer to Agent Martin although neither combat boots, camisoles, nor camouflage pants were ideal for the femme fatale routine I would have to try anyway. I ran my hand under the desk until I found the main switch and shut down everything.
“Now that we’re alone and all the cards are on the table I can give you my proposition.”
“Actually, only our cards are on the table.” Martin interjected.
“You just keep interrupting me now don’t you?” I leaned in closer to him so he could feel the words that I spoke slowly. “If we’re getting rid of euphemisms then this is not a proposition, it’s an ultimatum.” I straightened myself slowly while maintaining eye contact. “I am going to give you what you want, one major money laundering ring and all you have to do is loan me you’re services.”
“We’re not guns for hire.” Supervisory Agent Philips stood up to protest. “I am going to-“
“Yes, yes Supervisory Agent Phillips you’re not going to risk your careers and work with a suspect even though it will result in the biggest bust you will ever see.” My eyes through daggers to him, he was nothing but a nuisance now that I had chosen my mark. “You can either work with me or you can continue to sit in the van for 10 hours a night waiting for information that does not exist.”
“Or we can arrest you.” Agent Martin stood in the small aisle, he somehow managed to look down at me in the small space.
I stepped up to him, daring him to cuff me “For what? Confronting a group of strange men trespassing on my club. Who did not identify themselves as members of the FBI? Sounds like a career killer.” I stepped forward once more and looked at him directly in the eye. “Agent you can either make or break your career and all you have to do is meet at this address in about an hour.” I slipped a card into his shirt breast pocket and smiled. “You can bring your people if you wish but only you come inside.”
I stepped away from him and backed out the door, dropping out of the van and disappearing into the night.
I dropped my pair of heels in the foyer and gave myself once over in the mirror, near the front door. The femme fatale routine was one of my favorite but the clothes were a bit against my personal code. I pulled uncomfortably at the dark green form fitting dress that reach mid-thigh and the black patterned stocking which clung seductively to my skin. I wrapped my navy blue scarf around my neck and let the loops fall to partly conceal the V-neck. Lex had once attempted to teach me how to apply the forest green lipstick and black lip-liner but I had not been paying much attention.
The bell rang twice and I leaned over and open the door. Agent Martin stood on the doorstep and sized me up apprehensively. I pulled him forward with so much force that I had to use my other hand to stop him from slamming into me. Neither of us moved for a moment whilst my hand slid down his torso. Agent Martin seemed to forget himself for a moment and leaned towards my rose and orange blossom perfume.
“No large and obvious wires. I’m impressed.” I pulled away from him, he was still wearing his suit but had ditched the jacket. “But you’re dressed all wrong for where we’re going.”
“What is this deal that you are offering us?” He recovered himself and stepped farther into the safe house that would most likely be put up for sale after this escapade.
“I need a certain bit of information from an uncooperative associate. He operates his money laundering ring out of a night club and if you play along I’ll leave you in contact with him. If you don’t we both die.”
I walked over to a blue button on the wall, as I expected he flinched in pain whilst his hand subconsciously flew to his forearm as if to suppress the pain. I pressed the button again and he ripped the transmitter off his body.
“If you had worn this into the club, you would be being tortured and questioned right this moment until you told them what they wanted to hear. Then they’d torture you some more, just for the fun of it, kill you and leave your corpse somewhere for a mother and child to find.” I looked calmly at him, letting it sink in “If, you are going to do this, then you do it my way and by my rules. You want evidence find a non-transmitting device, but not on this sting. This one is off the books.”
I took his silence as acceptance and motioned for him to follow me into the next room. Although the clothes in the closets had been chosen for Trick, I was able to find a suit that did not scream federal employee that would fit Agent Martin.
I stared blankly at the mirror as Agent Martin changed, although he was an asset… for now, he was not one so much that I was about to leave him alone for a minute.
“You do realize,” I turned to him, speaking softly, and lazily, “that if you ask him about me after I leave he will become suspicious and kill you?”
Agent Martin’s head snapped up as if I had been reading his exact thoughts, but he did not turn to face me. “Who is this him, he seems awfully anxious to kill me.”
“You’ll see when we get there but the people I operate with, they know better than to ask questions about the past, present or the future, or anything about me which I have not provided myself.”
Agent Martin turned towards me with raised eyebrows and questions in his countenance. I surveyed my handiwork. Martin looked decent in the grey jeans, blue shirt and black leather jacket. He looked good enough, nothing exceptional, nothing that would wow anybody or make him stand out in the crowd. This just might work.
I had made sure that when we arrived at the over-priced strip club that the FBI knew not to interfere, I did not need a liability in this precarious and haphazard scheme. I tried not to allow myself to worry about the possibilities of disaster as we weaved our way through the crowd. For a newbie Agent Martin did a good job of not looking too lost or overwhelmed. He kept his eyes on me and his expression serious as I had instructed. We moved past the pole dancers and the drunkards, past the guards in disguise and the watchful eyes to the bar.
I locked eyes with the bartender, climbed onto a bar stool and whispered “I’d like a Kingpin special order.”
He did not react, or even look up from the glasses he was shining “What name should I put on that order?”
“The Lady with the Black Patterned Stockings.” I smiled and watched him disappear into a backroom.
I turned in time to see a large man in a dark suit materialize from the crowd. He locked eyes with me and then motioned for us to come with him. Agent Martin kept his eyes on me as we moved out of the lower areas of the club and passed the salacious women.
Kingpin, as G had instructed me to refer to him, sat arms outstretched on a love seat in a sectioned off corner of the club. Unlike us, he enjoyed showing off his dominance, flaunting his power. The large guards stationed around the red velvet rope, the expensive furniture and rugs, the array of alcoholic drinks, and the group of well-dressed and most likely paid women who surrounded him all set out a message. He was the biggest, baddest, most powerful shark in this pond.
His chin was sharp and framed by the anchor type beard, groomed to perfection. His tanned fingers were adorned with an array of garish rings and a large diamond sat comfortably in his earlobe.
Kingpin flashed his whitened teeth and sharped canines at me as he prepared for another chance to flaunt himself to me. He rose to give me a hug.
“My Lady, it has been too long, but this is not your usual Gentleman.”
“Kingpin, these are different circumstances.” I breathed as soon as he released me, my eyes flashing to Agent Martin and back to him.
He bared his teeth again and motioned for us to take a seat.
I sat down and crossed my legs, allowing the fabric to recced further. “Kingpin this is my associate Marcus,” I placed my hand on his knee.
“Any business partner of My Lady is an interest of mind.” Kingpin let his greed show as he shook hands with Agent Martin.
“Associate. He is looking for someone to handle his finances. Someone reliable, someone with connection; someone who knows what he’s doing. Someone like you.” I wined and dined his ego. “As you are well aware, I am not capable of such a feat, so I referred him to you, who is of course, more than capable.” I smiled at him, watching him bask in my commendation.
“You are right of course.” He exposed his teeth for a moment before turning the full force of his scrutiny towards me. “But, we both know there are no such things as free gifts in this business.”
“All in due time. Before I ask for my reward you should hear what Marcus has to say.” I brushed a stray braid from my hair and angled my chin towards Kingpin.
Kingpin gestured impatiently for Martin to speak. If what Martin said interested him then he would do anything to keep this new asset from offering me any new business, if it did not then we would be abruptly escorted out of the club.
“Half a million.” Martin said as he sipped his bourbon.
Kingpin laughed haughtily “That’s it?” He pointed towards me still showing his teeth “You have brought me beggars worth more than that.”
I did not respond nor change my observant countenance; I merely looked once again at Agent Martin.
“You misunderstand me,” Agent Martin set down his glass, leaned back and placed his right leg over his left “I mean that I will invest half a million in the trial run. If it pleases me then we will increase the amount.”
Kingpin sobered up immediately. “Increase by how much?”
“Depends how favorable the result.”
“Boys, boys, let’s not discuss business in front of women, or at least wait until this woman has her business settled.” I smiled, pleased by the direction this was going. “Are you interested Kingpin?”
He smiled, and I swallowed hard as I struggled to keep my business composure. This was the do or die moment.
“I am intrigued.” His satanic smile did not disappear.
“Pleasure.” I rose and walked over to his love seat. Immediately one of his concubines rose and took my last seat next to Agent Martin. “Don’t get too comfortable.” I breathed as I lowered myself next to Kingpin.
I placed my hand on his silk covered forearm, I whispered to him, holding my emerald lips inches from his ear. “I need to know who has been messing with my business.”
He chuckled, his frame shaking “I had been wondering when you would come to enquire about that. Candy, why don’t you show Marcus the bar.”
Everyone, got up and left the king’s court. When we were alone, I slid my arm down to his palms.
“So you do know?” I struggled to keep my voice calm and wispy.
When we had taken over this area all the competition was eradicated. Kingpin liked to believe that he had survived the exodus because he was too powerful for us. In reality it was because G had decided that we needed someone whom our enemies would go to, someone who we knew and could keep an easy eye on.
“I didn’t want to be involved.” His tone indicated that he was not chosen to be involved. “I guess they knew about your occasional visits.”
“But what would they want with someone of your capabilities?”
“Nothing. The news is that all contractors and refers were bypassed, but all the best and most ruthless have disappeared off the job list… and then all your jobs start to go wrong.”
I slid my hand off his and onto his thigh, I leaned in once more and spoke slowly, “Do you know who has been taking your people.”
He curled his lip a little bit. “No one does. But this is coming from very high up the grapevine. I am talking about heads of countries, people with unlimited power and invisibility. Someone is gunning for your little go-lucky clan.”
“Nothing we can’t handle.” I assured him.
“I don’t know honey. You might want to jump ship before you sink, these people are invisible and strong.” He pulled me closer to him by wrapping his arm around my waist. “There are always spots opened for you.” He somehow managed to grab at me with the same hand.
I grabbed his arm, digging into the skin and forcefully removed it from around me. “I have not jumped ship yet.”
“Yet.” He laughed maliciously.
“It’s been a pleasure Kingpin.” I said stiffly as I rose to leave.
“I look forward to our next meeting.” He exposed his teeth. I flung a contact card for “Marcus” and departed to find Agent Martin.
Posted in Stories, Unfinished Buissiness
Tags: abstract, change, chapter 4, creativity, dreams, famous people, happiness, imagination, Life, original, writing
Two Sentence Stories: At the Beach
Posted by Siobhan Pascal
Footprints in the Sand via http://www.smallwhiteintheforest.blogspot.com
She stared solemnly as the tide washed away the tiny footprints in the sand, reclaiming its territory. She was burdened with the knowledge that, thanks to her, that was not all that it had claimed
Doc (01) Chapter 3
Posted by Siobhan Pascal
[Read Chapter 1 here]
[Read Chapter 2 here]
CHAPTER 3
The loud blaring alarm lurched me out of my dreams. Groggily, I turned over and began to hit the clock in an attempt to find the snooze button without opening my eyes. After a few seconds I gave up and pulled out the gun from under my pillow, put the magazine in and shot the clock.
“This is why you can’t have nice things.” Someone chuckled.
My eyes flew open instantly as I pointed the gun at the intruder. It took my brain about a second to catch up to the situation, and when it did I wished I had shot first.
“I have half the mind to shoot you.” I sighed disarming the gun before returning it to its resting place.
“You barely had half a mind to begin with.” Ray laughed as he flopped back down onto my couch.
“Why are you in my house?” I moaned as I swung myself out of the bed.
“Felt like it. What’s for breakfast?”
“Leave me alone.” I mumbled on my way to the bathroom.
Fifteen minutes later we both sat at my kitchen counter eating omelets in relative silence. I had changed into a mini red belted dress, the black buckled boots and my usual trench coat waited for me at the door. I felt overdressed next to Ray who wore a plain white V-neck and three-quarter khakis. There was little I would not give to be in jeans and a hoodie but Lex would chastise me again. Then again I knew people who would never associate Ray with the word plain whenever conversations like that came up I just rolled my eyes. I had to admit the combination of his caramel oval shaped face, arched eyebrows and flawless skin not mentioning his attractive height and muscular physique was impressive. Lex had once nodded and said “Yep. God took his time with him.”
But he was still extremely annoying.
“Ok” I sighed “How did you get in?”
“I disabled your alarm.” Ray answered nonchalantly.
“Sometimes I don’t know why I bother.” I shrugged as I hopped off the stool.
“Because it would be no fun if you didn’t.” Ray replied as if it was an obvious and normal answer.
“Yes that’s why I have so many security measures. It is all for your amusement.” My sarcasm was almost palpable.
“Yep.” He answered again with nonchalance.
I let go a deep breath before heading to the door “Let’s go you have to drop me off or I will be late.”
“Why do I have to drop you?” Ray complained as he zipped up his jacket.
“You are the only one here who has a car and since you decided to break into my house you should make yourself useful.” I reasoned while I locked the door behind us and turned on the security system. The good news is he did not break it. The first time Ray “disabled” my alarm system he poured chemicals onto the circuit board and melted all the wires.
“I don’t know why you live here.” Ray mused as we walked down the steps. “Wouldn’t it make more sense for G to live on top of his own bar?”
I turned back and looked at my home on the second storey of The Warren. Just like the first storey the interior of the second one was at odds with the exterior. “I like it here. Besides G has a home. I don’t understand why you used two medium level jobs worth of pay to buy that.” I pointed to the Lamborghini that sat in the dusty parking lot in front of The Warren.
“It’s a Murciélago. It was worth it.” He said confidently as he passed his hand over the hood “But you could always walk.”
“Just open the door.” I sucked my teeth.
“Then leave my Lamborghini Murciélago alone.”
Ray opened the scissors door for me; most likely afraid I would break it. I climbed into the small two seater sports car. I had stopped complaining for the time being because I was fully aware that Ray would have no problem dropping me off in the middle of nowhere.
“You forgot didn’t you?” Ray asked as he sped through the busy Lower Manhattan streets.
“Forgot what?” I was always forgetting something; there was nothing new about that.
“Today is pay day… So tonight” He trailed off
I sighed “We’re supposed to go to The Warren.”
“For a person who lives above a club you don’t really take advantage of it. Such a waste.” He shook his head
“Do you want to move in or something? ‘Cause I’d be happy to move out. You already make yourself at home. Stop.”
Ray jammed his foot on the break and the sports car came to a screeching halt in front of the studio. For the next couple of minutes the air was filled with the sound of car honks and cursing. Oh New York.
“Next time stop harassing me and pay more attention to the road.” I sighed as I climbed out of his ostentatious car.
“I’ll try.” He smiled and drove off.
Why are all my friends such pains? If I had not braced myself that stop would have thrown me into the dashboard. Inside the studio lobby Lex waited patiently for me.
Sometimes I wondered if I just had a thing for tall friends. Lex was a little taller than my 6ft; her long brown hair framed her face with its natural gold highlights and swept down to her shoulder blade. She had expertly applied make up to her oval face and the eye shadow brought out her eyes which were dazzling amber in the sunlight.
“Welcome back.” I smiled as I hugged her.
“Thank you. I’m glad to see you so well dressed.” She smiled mischievously.
“Not like I have a choice.” I mumbled “But it’s not like I will be staying in this for long.” I held up my duffle bag as proof of my defiance.
Lex’s eyes narrowed “What do you have against look sexy?” she asked incredulously.
“It’s so much work.” I complained as we made our way to the room at the end of the hall.
“I bought you that dress and you never wear it. All I ask is that you dress more fashionably. Is that too much?”
“Yep.” I smiled as I hid my duffle bag under a bench. “You should just respect my decision to wear comfy clothing.” I mused
”Your choices mean nothing to me.” She laughed in a maniacal way.
I stifled my own laugh as we entered calmly into the exhibition hall. Light streamed through an open skylight and made the polished wood panel floor gleam. Sculptures stood directly under the skylight while the organizer had set up large paintings on the cream walls. I leaned in closer to look for any security measures around the sculptures; unfortunately they stood exposed just begging to be stolen.
All it would take was one well timed heist. I’d climb on the roof and Rochelle would create a diversion to keep people out of the room. Trick would disable the security cameras as I lowered myself from the skylight and had my pick of art.
“That is a marvelous sculpture you are admiring there. I believe it was sculpted in a time of deep emotional pain.” A male voice commented.
I stood up straight and smiled at the tall blond next to me; I recognized him from photos in the gallery owner’s office, his step-son I believed. In truth I had not paid much attention to the object in front of me, but now that I looked it did resemble a figure in immense pain. I think.
“Yes, it is very impressive but not one of my favorites. I am not a fan of the type of chisel the artist used. It goes too deep at times.” I pointed to a depression on the statue. I may not know art but chisels did come in handy as impromptu weapons at times.
I took his momentary distraction to scan the crowd for Lex. She was staring at one of the paintings on the north wall. Her above knee length grey one shoulder had attracted many eyes and one man had begun to make his way over to her. I kept scanning but I could not locate the owner of the gallery. I ground my teeth in frustration.
“I don’t know why but you look very familiar to me.” He continued after having apparently given up on finding the depressions.
I picked up a glass from a tray that a passing waiter carried and swirled it impatiently “You are in my comparative literature class.” I lied with ease before putting down the glass on another a tray and walked towards a painting situated next to a security camera.
“Sorry but I never did pay attention much in class. I’m Caden Scott.”
“Excuse me please Mr. Scott.” I walked away abruptly.
From the corner of my eye I had spotted the man I had been looking for. I passed by Lex and tapped her on her shoulder. We both walked up to the short balding and fat man.
“Good afternoon Mr. Brandon.” Lex said coolly. “We are looking for your employer, Mr. Adams.”
“What business do you have with M-M-Mr. Adams?” He stuttered.
“He hired us.” I watched as the color drained from his face.
“Y-y-you are the extra security he hired to stop a robbery.” His voice dropped a few decibels as the last part. “No offense ladies, but you don’t look the part.”
“Let us worry about that Mr. Scott. Just relax no one is going to steal any of these works of art.” Lex comforted him.
The man had no intention of relaxing. He pulled out a handkerchief from his jacket pocket and began mopping up the sweat from his brow.
“I don’t think he will ever regain his rosy complexion again.” I laughed after he left.
“Possibly not. Who was that blond you were talking to?” Lex inquired as we made our way to a blind spot in the cameras.
“The step-son of our employer for the day. Let’s get this done before he decides he wants to know my name.”
“Telling from the absence of the owner of this gallery, and the large crowd of people around his step-son I’d say he is hosting while daddy is busy.”
“That’s great for him.”
“Excuse me ladies and gentlemen.” Caden said trying to get everyone’s attention. “More refreshments are being served in the next room before we move onto the next section of today’s gala.”
Lex and I pretended to have a conversation while we moved with the crowd. It was easier to scan the congregation, if anyone really did listen in all they would here was two people saying what really was a stream of random words.
Finally Lex spotted our aspiring robbers, two men dressed in black tuxedoes lingered towards the back. As soon as we exited the room I went to get my duffle bag from under the bench. Stooping out of everyone’s view I fished out the bag and Lex’s saxophone case. I handed her the black case and we made our way back into the now empty exhibit room. Inside, the two men had disabled just last of the cameras.
I cleared my throat and stepped forward “You two seem to be lost. I’m sure our gracious host said everyone should make their way to the next room.”
They exchanged glances and climbed down from the ladder. They picked up two slim poles that lay next to the ladder and approached us.
“Violence is bad.” Lex shook her head as she removed her unusually large saxophone from its case and slide the case itself across the room.
“Uh huh.” I took off my shoes and removed from my bag the two side handled batons I packed after I realized there would be an unconventional lack of impromptu weapons in this room. Something had told me G would have a problem with me using the sculptures as throwing knives.
The first thief moved towards Lex who had also lopped off her heels. He swung the poles at her legs, torso and neck but she deftly dodged all his uncoordinated attacks.
Lex turned the mouth piece twice, held down a key and blew, but no sound came out. She blew again without holding down any keys and a white mist sprayed from the bell. “Interesting factoid: by extracting and isolating a chemical from the geranium flower one can form a paralyzing agent. In humans it lasts two to three hours”
The robber looked at her incredulously as his muscles began to slump. The pole dropped from his hands and his legs gave way. Lex walked up to him and closed his eyes.
“You watch too much Disney.” I laughed as I lunged at the remaining thief.
I held the baton below its handle and dealt a forceful blow to his abdomen. However he tensed his stomach before I could make contact and the baton hit hard muscle. This man had more experience and skill than his partner and he quickly brought the pole around and swung it forcefully at me. I did not have time to move, so I held my other baton by the side-handle and brought it up to shield me from the blow.
I jumped back up and shook my wrist.
“Someone is losing their touch.” Lex taunted.
I sucked my teeth loudly “He should have doubled over. This will still be over soon.”
I locked eyes with my adversary and beckoned him forward. The way he charged at me reminded me of a bull but with more controlled rage. I did not move until the last second when he was roughly the pole’s length away from me.
Suddenly I struck his knuckle with the baton and following human reflexes he dropped the pole. Before the pole had time to hit the tile floor I twirled around him and struck the back of his knees. As he fell forward I hit the base of his neck below his hairline with just enough force to knock him out.
“You could have killed him with that blow.” Lex sighed after the “clank” from the pole hitting the floor had stopped echoing through the room.
“I try not to.” I smiled, checking his pulse just in case.
While I was busy with my little friend Lex had her saxophone case from where she had slid it out of harm’s way. She removed the top casing, revealing a hidden compartment. She pulled out a box of what appeared to be disinfecting wipes from the compartment and wiped of any remaining paralyzing agent form her sax and the robber’s face.
When we were done cleaning up, we re-enabled the security cameras and went to find Mr. Scott.
“Do you have a date for tonight?” Lex asked suddenly.
I groaned and pushed the door open.
Posted in Stories, Unfinished Buissiness
Tags: chapter 3, happiness, imagination, inspiration, Life, love, original, stories, writing
Doc(01)- Chapter 2
Posted by Siobhan Pascal
[Read Chapter 1 here]
CHAPTER 2
The next afternoon I watched the glare slowly subside from the display case, allowing the advertisements for new books and album releases to become visible. When the clock struck exactly at the hour I made my way through the revolving door and stepped onto the light beige wall-to-wall carpeting. There were only a few people of varying ages scattered around the various rosewood book shelves.
I cast my eyes up at the ecru ceiling which sparkled from the reflecting lights as I removed my trench coat and folded it over my arm. The desk directly across from the door was tall mahogany paneled; it was semi-circular and extended against the glass window behind it. When I stood in front of it, Derek the assistant could scarcely see past my shoulders and I had to tiptoe to see the room behind the glass window.
“How may I help you today?” Derek asked politely although he did not look up from whatever engrossed him below my line of sight.
“I came to collect my mail. Where’s DJ?”
“In her corner.” Derek dismissed me with those three words, practically shooing me along so he could get back to his work.
I knocked three times on the false wall which was situated next to one of the display cases. “Do NOT knock a fourth time; you know what that does to me.” DJ shouted from behind the wall. After a few moments of shuffling and the occasional bang, a section of the wall was retracted and DJ poked her head out from her secret spot. “Oh My God,” she cried, flying her hand over her mouth. “What time is it?” She disappeared again momentarily before reemerging with a pocket fob watch. This time her entire petite frame emerged from the wall.
If I was 5ft 10” then DJ was 5ft 8”, she was very slim with skin the color of strongly brewed tea. Her natural and untamed hair had been wrestled into a relatively neat black bun with the occasional streak of color.
I peered into her small air condition room. The walls and floor were covered in a dark shade of purple shag carpeting referred to as eminence. Her laptop had been quickly deposited on the black bean bag chair, which was the only piece of furniture inside the wall, a stack of books sat in one corner near the small speakers. I reached in picked up the covered cup from the cup holder and began to sip what I soon discovered to be a chocolate milkshake.
“I am exactly on time.” I replaced the cup and closed up her little room.
“Yes, I know.” She led me away from the bookshelves. “I remembered you, but I started to read and….”
“Then the rest is just all downhill isn’t it?”
“But the important thing is that you’re here now.” We had quickly reached the other end of the bookstore; DJ swiped her key card and entered into the backroom. This was usually reserved for premium members to read and chat during the day or at night for Def Jam Poetry. I had been able to see the stage and a few occupied tables from the glass window behind Derek’s desk. His desk and the bar mirrored each other; therefore if you stood facing the bar, if the curtain was not drawn, you could see the bookstore. To accommodate the day patrons the lights had been turned up and the bar was acting as a café.
On one side of the stage was a flight of stairs that led to a terraced restaurant on the second floor, they would send down food from the kitchen via the dumbwaiter if the need for a quick snack aroused. One the other side was a locked elevator and if anyone without DJ’s key card and access code tried to unlock the elevator, it would simply take them to the basement where the stock was kept. However with the correct ingredients the elevator would not go down, but sideways in a true Charlie and Mr. Willy Wonka style.
We stepped out into an adjacent room filled with large lockers. DJ waited patiently while I located the locker charged to me; opening it was a simple matter of a fingerprint scanner and pulse detector. If the wrong print was inputted or the lock tampered with, then everything inside would be instantly incinerated.
In our early days, we had devised a plan to get messages to and from suppressed countries controlled by autocratic government. We had informants working in various printing factories who would leave messages in carved out book placed directly in the center of the packaged stacks.
DJ suddenly busied herself with organizing some illegally published books she had received from such places, I would have to remember to tell Lex and Rochelle that she had in stock.
I had only received two letters and a scroll this week. We had recently done two espionage operations in third world countries. I suspected that they were probably congratulatory remarks or proof of the transaction by which we received our payment. The third scroll was a proclamation from an eccentric country with antediluvian habits. I needed to remind Seth that his bounty had gone up again.
I dropped the parchment in the shredder and watched as the bits of paper went up in a blaze. I weighed the last two packages in my hand and considered the royalties they held. The hollowed out book which they were transported in had undergone rigorous testing per my instructions. DJ had personally treated it so that no living organism would have survived, opened it in an air tight container and tested for poisonous or explosive substances or tracking devices. The building I stood in blocked all electromagnetic waves. I was confident that my “mail” had minimal physical dangers. However, I was still prepared to drop it and run if there was even the slightest change in the environment.
The first one came from a revolutionary party who had sought to overthrow their suppressive totalitarian government. G and Mika had been employed to subtly escort their leader to the UN to petition for liberation. The job had gone off without a hitch and they had left her in the capable hands of a trusted official. The letter was short and to the point.
We have retracted your payment for this failed venture. Our party head has been assassinated and found outside a disreputable establishment. We have been forced to hire a different company to get us to safety.
I tore open the second envelope but the contents were the same. A failed assignment, termination of pay, different company. Three retractions of pay put us off at least 2 and a half a million dollars, not to mention the loss from referrals and future business. I destroyed the documents and let myself out, picking up a bag of books at the front desk so as not to arouse the suspicion of the policemen who were following me. I did not have time to try to lose them and resolved to block my mouth as I called G on one of Ray’s specially developed secured lines.
“Hello?” he answered after two rings.
“It’s Mikki. I went to check the mail and we got two more failed orders and transferred addresses.”
“But what the mother…. O.k. O.k. I’ll get Trick to check them out.” He sighed, I could envision him sinking lower into his chair. “Are those cops still following you?” He asked after I had relayed him the information.
“Yea, I’ll see what I can do about that.” I hung up and locked eyes with the cop car parked behind me.
Posted in Stories, Unfinished Buissiness
Tags: abstract, book store, creativity, Davie J, descriptive piece, dreams, happiness, inspiration, Life, original, stories, struggle
Doc1 (01)- Chapter 1
Posted by Siobhan Pascal
So at my latest novel attempt was started a year ago December. I got to about 14 Chapters + writing off and on until I broke my computer screen and lost the most recent version. I am pretty proud of myself for this one because I weathered a lot to get this far, including the loss of some inspirations. I will release one chapter per week, and hopefully by Friday I will be writing again. ~Love Da Mouse (P.S. I haven’t figured out a title yet, feel free to comment suggestions)
And then the darkness, so long dormant after they had given the first blow… and the darkness struck back.
CHAPTER 1
The ferocious wind whipped at my braided hair, further increasing the velocity of the rain droplets that lashed at my brown skin. I huddled closer into my brown trench coat and tried in vain to shield myself from this watery bombardment. I passed a policeman on patrol; he did not give me a second look. To him I was just another figure racing to leave the cold Manhattan air. It was at times like this I wished that I could stop and search for the faint smell of petrichor but I was already late.
Ahead of me was a non-descript two story warehouse like building. Both stories were identical, square, with a few visible windows; the second story was smaller than the first and had a small balcony. If it was not for the large and bright sign reading “The Warren” or the long queue of people, anyone would have assumed this was an abandoned warehouse. I crossed the muddied parking lot with a non-descript van apparently belonging to an electrician company. It looked superbly out of place next to the sports cars and expensive vehicles.
I avoided the line and went straight for the door. A short bouncer stopped me. I scrutinized his 5ft 9 burly stature, and his pale skin wrapped around his bulging muscles. His face had elf-like features that were accented by his almost constant scowl. He wore his black polo well, on the left breast pocket was a picture of a red humanoid crab like creature wearing a pair of shades and holding a beer can. When G chose the logo I suggested a gangster Rabbit but no, we had to go with a crab because he was a Cancer. On the back of the shirt was the club motto “You know it’s a party when G is in charge.”
“Are we going to do this every night Naj?” I asked warily. He cracked one of his rare smiles and followed me in.
Inside The Warren was completely contra descriptive to the outside. Laser lights shone all over the night club. Steps led down from the entrance on to the main floor so from where we stood we had a pretty good view of the club. The DJ stood behind his sound system on an elevated platform in one corner of the room. In front of him, people had begun to dance and mingle. Across from the DJ on the opposite side of the room was the bar, and the bartenders looked busy. Booths were scattered around the rooms mainly near the walls to give dancers plenty of space. Most of the room was occupied by couples.
I eased my way past the crowd to the bar and signaled to one of the bartenders to come forward. Logan was one of our youngest workers and said he was using this job to pay for college. He was about 20 with honey blond hair that he wore past his ears. He was average height and very lean, his easy-going and trusting nature and soft brown eyes were the reason he worked in both banking and as a bartender.
Naj waited patiently as I pulled him to a corner away from listening ears
“Logan, you need to be more careful with the money. You’re supposed to add the money G gives you to the bills so that no one notices the extra. The sums you’re adding are too big, now I’ve got a surveillance van in the parking lot and a club that is most likely bugged.” He looked down at his feet and ran his fingers through his tangled hair, refusing to meet my eyes. “I want you to check the heat signature of the van. I want to know how many men are in there, then I want you to send Sally out with a pitcher of I don’t know, ice tea and cups. Don’t drug it, this time. Then after the club closes I need the entire place swept for bugs. Ok?”
He just nodded, still not meeting my eyes.
A booth hovered way above the floor, it was encased by a black glass which prevented anyone outside from seeing those inside. Most people assumed that was where the DJ was supposed to be due to its elevated height, but the owner had found better use for it. At the bottom of the stairs leading up to booth stood two beefy guards, neither stopped us on our way up. I pushed the door open and we stepped into the horseshoe shaped booth with a round coffee table in the middle. A collection of fashionably dressed young men and women sat engaged in light conversation. Most of them with alcoholic drinks in their hands.
I shrugged off my trench coat revealing the brown sleeveless blouse I wore with black leggings, my ballet slippers squeaked from the rain. I sat next to Mims, she was petit and dark skinned with short black hair. She was still dressed in her bartender’s uniform. I guess she had not gone to the clinic today and instead opted to keep an eye on things. G sat at the top of the horseshoe with his back towards the dance floor. From there he scowled at me.
G was a little below average height, dark skinned and like most of the other guys there: muscular and fairly handsome. He wore a pair of denim jeans with an open black flannel shirt. On his right hand he wore a Rolex watch and a gold chain around his neck. His intricate “G” tattoo peaked out from his shirt. As a person, he was extremely amiable and amusing; he had an inexplicably infectious humor and a charismatic charm.
“You’re late.”
He said gruffly.
“Even Lex’s here, Rochelle too.”
He rolled his eyes in a joking manner.
Lex sat on the other side of Mimi, she nodded absently as she swirled her drink. Her brown hair with its natural gold highlights covered her shoulders which were left bare by her fitted black sleeveless dress and brushed her shoulder blades. Rochelle sat in a dark corner still wearing her coat and black boots played with her Winnie the Pooh pendant.
“I’m here now aren’t I?” I answered monotonously.
Suddenly, a glass was slammed on to the table. Nobody flinched. Ray leaned into the light; it threw shadows across his caramel face.
“Why do we have to meet here? I prefer Mikki’s place.”
Ray smiled calmly probably remembering the time he finished all my liquor. Not that I drink any anyway.
G began to answer but the waitress entered with a round of drinks. I had seen her around but I was surprised G let her up here. I scrutinized her petit frame; she was slightly darker than Ray.
“Refills anyone?’ she asked politely.
Eight cups simultaneously slid to the center of the table. She quickly changed out the glasses. Seven hands shot out and grabbed the drinks. I did not move.
“One non-alcoholic.” G smiled at her. She really was not my favorite person, but I could deal with that, if only for G.
“Yes sir.” She smiled back.
I wondered if it bothered her how we all melted into the darkness when she entered. Some parts of me hoped it did. I was inexplicably and slightly shamefully bothered by people who intruded on us. I suppose I had grown to develop a possessiveness of my friends that should not be.
“Who was that?” Lex inquired, her hazel eyes narrowed.
G sipped some of his drink “Liz.”
“She needed a job, he gave her one.” Mimi stated, realizing that G would mostly likely not say anything more. Her face was straight.
“Like the good person I am.” He joked
“Yeah I’m sure.” Lex laughed as everyone else snickered.
“Still waiting for my answer.” Ray reminded him after Liz had brought back my drink. “It’s less private.” He sipped his drink.
“Because I have a feeling that we might have some boisterous customers tonight.” It was not G but Seth who had spoken. He sat on the right hand side of G, with Trick on the left. He leaned forward, allowing the light to reflect off his gold ring. He brushed the sleeve of his crepe long sleeved Armani jacket. “And I would like to be here if they do.”
“Tch.” I turned to G “So is there any reason you have me away from my bed?”
“Mikki!” Mimi exclaimed “It’s not even twelve.”
“I need my beauty sleep.” I stuck out my tongue stubbornly at her.
“It’s not helping you at all.” Naj laughed at my sulking face.
G signaled Trick forward with his index and middle finger. The twenty-one year old placed his laptop on the table and further loosened his tie as he had not had a chance to change from his work clothes.
I peered at the man on the screen, his heavy bearded face tugged at my memory.
“Two months ago we performed one of our usual crime scene clean ups,” Trick paused, searching for the right words “avant de police. The victim was a corrupt police chief who died from poisoning.” He swiped his hand over the key pad and the picture changed to a teacup. “However, the cause of death seems to have resurfaced…at the police headquarters.”
“You’re joking right?” Mimi asked in disbelief
“Impossible!” Lex hissed. “I was on that team and we scrubbed the place clean. I clearly remember sterilizing the tea set and selling it off in pieces.”
“Come on. We did not forget anything.” Mimi added
“It was probably too high for you to see it.” Trick teased.
“Trick,” She whined “This is not funny.”
Despite the severity of the situation I could not help but smile, however Lex was not appeased.
“Is it possible that this is a mistake?” Lex persisted
“Very slim. It pinged my network and scans on Rochelle’s computer matched it to the umm killer tea cup. Right down to the little smudge on the petals from where the painter sneezed and moved his hand.” He zoomed in on the odd shaped petal for emphasis.
“Impossible!” Lex repeated insistently.
“Well you missed something.” G pointed at the image “Calm down Lex all you have to do is go with Naj and fix it.”
“I don’t need a chaperone.” She pouted
“But we don’t travel alone on business so bring some muscle.” I pointed out his arm.
G nodded and closed Trick’s computer. Effectively dissolving the tension. The stubborn pout still remained on Lex’s face. It annoyed her because she led the cleanup team and she did not like her work to be questioned. She was not the only disgruntled one; Mimi, Rochelle and Ray were also on her team.
G reached over and pulled on her lip, but quickly drew back when she attempted to bite him. We all snickered. But behind the laughter something about this entire thing bothered me, an unnerving sense of déjà vu. Before I could voice my concerns, Naj pointed to the bar.
We watched through the one way glass that surrounded the closed booth; my stomach turned cold, the way it did before a fight. Three men were crossing the floor; the one in the front was tall and thin. He had a long face and beady eyes so he reminded me of a rat. From the blank stares of the two big gorillas behind him, I assumed that they were dumb muscle escorting a lackey.
“The gorillas are most likely packing heat,” I mused “But telling from their stance and walk they are new recruits not as quick on the draw as the experienced bunch. Rat face is probably carrying a gun; his hand keeps twitching to his side.”
“I guess they can’t read the sign saying no firearms.” Ray shrugged
“I guess not.” Mimi agreed
“Naj, Seth, Mikki go handle this.” G smiled calmly
“Don’t involve me unless it is absolutely necessary.” I chastised him “Send Trick instead.”
“You know what, for a violent person you don’t like to get your hands dirty.” G sighed as he signaled to Trick to go with them.
“It’s the laziness.” I shrugged. That, and I was not in the mood for violence. “You better handle it quickly before the cops outside decide to try something.
“Stupes, Mikki.”
We turned our attention back to the buffoons downstairs. Rat face had stopped the music and climbed on a table.
Rochelle turned up the volume of the mike Seth had hidden in his gold ring. The one he had activated shortly after he left the booth.
Trick cleared his throat. “You need to get own. Now” Naj signaled to the DJ to start the music again.
“Well maybe you can direct me to the proprietor of this establishment.” Please. This man spent too much time watching mob movies. He even attempted to copy the accent not too much avail.
“The boss is busy, but you can always speak to us.” Trick informed him; his tone indicated he was quickly growing tired of this man.
Rat face got off the table and sat down on a nearby chair. “As you may or may not, businesses in this area of town occasionally need some extra protection.” He paused melodramatically. “My boss has decided out of the kindness of his heart, to provide such protection. Lest this reputable club be damaged.”
This was comic. This must be a new set, no one tried to “shake down” The Warren and to do so blatantly in public view within the hearing range of others? Amateurs.
I was not the only one who found this situation funny; Naj had begun to laugh “Yo! You want us to pay you off so you don’t “damage” our place?”
“I think you will find The Warren is sufficiently protected.” Seth added irritably.
Rat faced narrowed his beady black eyes. “You’d be surprised how out of control some customers can become.”
Right on cue, the first gorilla grabbed the table with the obvious intention to flip it over, but Seth was faster. He grabbed the gorilla’s shoulder and pressed down, in the same moment with quick fluid movements he lifted the brute’s gun from his jacket. Naj flicked the second gorilla’s forehead with enough force to leave a red mark for a couple of weeks. I would know, I could still feel the sting from the last time. While the second Sasquatch was fazed Naj lifted his gun.
They were back at Trick’s side right as the dumb muscle had begun to register the immense force that had been inflicted on their pressure points and the resulting pain.
“I never got your name.” Trick mused as if nothing had happened.
“Frank Bates.” The rat replied still amazed at what had just happened.
“Mr. Bates I think any business you have with us is done and I advise you to stay away from The Warren.”
“My boss does not like people to refuse his generosity.”
“He’ll have to make an exception this time.”
“You know, I am tired of this conversation.” He stood and pulled out a pistol and pointed it at Trick “I’d like to speak to the owner.”
I cursed. They had five seconds to get this under control before people started to panic.
One. Trick twisted Bates arm, forcing the gun upwards and loosening his grip. A woman had noticed. Two. Trick grabbed the gun from Bates with one hand, and with the other he pulled him over the table while simultaneously kicking the table forward. Somebody screamed. Three. Rat face fell on the floor; Trick stepped over him and pressed his knee on Bates back as he twisted his arm behind him. People who had begun to run started to calm down.
In the meantime Seth and Naj had subdued gorilla one and two and one of the bartenders were calling the police. Soon other bouncers came to restrain them. Trick stood up, dusted his clothes off, and made his way back to the booth.
“Ghos’” Trick muttered, directing his next words to G. “mister point a gun at me.” he sucked his teeth.
Posted in Stories, Unfinished Buissiness
Tags: amateur writer, chapter 1, creativity, Da Mouse, happiness, imagination, inspiration, Life, original, original story, petrichor, stories, story attempt, writing
Random Writing Challenge 002
Posted by supersparkl3
It was only fifty dollars, nothing major really, and it made him feel better so he didn’t understand why she was so mad. When he came home, hat twirling, smile beaming, because he had won big with only fifty dollars at the local casino, he found a silent brooding wife sitting at the bottom of the stairs. There was a mug in her hand, her fingers interlocked at the front, the key indicator that something was wrong. Her head hung between her hunched shoulders, and the long dark strands of her hair drew around her face like blackout curtains. “Dear…” he starts, but the way she twitches at the sound of his voice tells him he should stay silent. He scuffs his shoes on the floor to acknowledge her body language, and let her know he’s listening.
“What did you use it for?’’ she mumbles, her stifled words fall onto the floor boards and roll towards him.
He pauses, wondering if he should play it off. Lying, feigning ignorance, ignoring her question, anything but the truth seemed like a good option. He had just opened his mouth to start when she looked up. Her light brown eyes were fixed on his stalky figure froze just inside the doorway. They met his dark brown eyes, and the words silently abandoned his lips.
“You seemed so happy, you only twirl your had when you have good news for me. Why so silent now?”
There was no way to lie to her…This woman knew him too well. He also couldn’t tell her the truth. Her eyes were still fixed on him. Her hair slides back just enough to reveal her burning gaze while shrouding the rest of her face with a shadow. He knew exactly how her lips were twisted though, and the slight twitch the right side of her mouth would be doing. He couldn’t drag his gaze from her to formulate a story, to think about what he should do, what he should say, how he should say it. He stood there with his mouth slightly open.
She noticed the tiffany box in his jacket pocket. She almost smiled, but the memory of sleeping on a park bench while her mother stayed half-awake guarding them with a kitchen knife strangled her happiness before it could surface. Her father had betted and drunken them out of house and home. She could never let that happen again… Break the pattern! She chanted to herself silently. The petrified man before her however, seemed different from her worthless father. Her gaze never once wavered, all he saw was scorn and pain. His lips began to tremble, she knew what it meant and found some mercy.
“Don’t let it happen again,” her stifled words rolled across the floor to him once again before she released him from her gaze and turned to ascend the stairs.
“Sorry dear, won’t happen again dear,” he shuffles into the kitchen to cook for her like he always did when she was upset. She smiled as she walked up the stairs because through the walls and the floor she saw him drape his coat over the dining room chair at the end of the table, the one with the scratch on the front right leg from their first failed attempt at footsy during a family dinner. She saw him kick off his shoes and leave them to the right side of the doorway between the kitchen and the dining room, because the first time she wore six-inch heels she tripped over them and twisted her ankle. He would turn on the tap too, to wash his barely dirty hands, because his younger sister had an immune system problem and he was used to cooking with utmost care. She saw his hat placed next to the sink ,because she would go downstairs in an hour and twirl it for him, so they could dance around the kitchen till their dinner got cold.
More Than Young Ink 