Nano Novel, Excerpt — Guilt and Anger (Unedited)

“Paging doctor emery, Paging doctor emery, ext 246” The intercom sounded and disappeared into the background. LC paced in the emergency room waiting area. He could tell that he was making those around him nervous, the mothers with their sick children, and all the others waiting outside for their family members who were carted off and tucked away in unseen rooms behind curtains being cared for. LC was a bundle of emotions, worry, anger, excitement and furry. He wanted to lash out at something so badly. His fists were balled and his knuckles drained of blood and white, skin taught against the joints of his fingers. One of his fists was to his side and the other was placed firmly against his upper teeth. He dug into it until he could finally feel the pain. There was no doubt in his mind who had done this to his friend. No doubt who would pay for this. The law was now far removed from his mind, all semblances of getting justice were now skewed to getting revenge, which was a whole new game. LC could live with getting shot at and taking a bullet, but when his friends and loved ones were brought into this it was a whole knew game and there was a new set of rules to live by. He could feel his breathing growing deeper and more forceful. Anger began to overcome all other emotions. He was a bull, tormented and caged, trying to break free and run around the arena, finding anything to point its fury at.

The walls of the emergency room began to close in on him, making him feel their presence more and more. The fluorescent light buzzing inside his head, the eyes of all those waiting patients and worried others began to pierce into his mind. He could not take it any longer and stormed out of the waiting area. He jogged past the admittance desk and found the sliding doors that opened to the entrance of the ER. He slowed just in time for the doors to open and burst out into the cold night air. The relief was immediate but fleeting. Indigo, the man in black, they would all pay for this, somehow. His mind was humming with scenes of revenge and wrath.

LC found himself walking away from the hospital. He had no idea what he was doing, just walking, staying in motion, trying to use some of the energy and adrenaline that he had built up inside of him. The private detective had seen some bad things in his life, being a cop it was part of the job, but it was easier to remove yourself and stay focused when the victim was not linked so closely to you. He had however never seen someone so tortured as he had his friend, and especially that he had survived the beating and pain, so far. LC wanted to know more about sam’s chances but the doctors quickly kicked him out of the room when he began to get in the way with his worrying and questions. He was angry at them too, but could not blame them.

As LC walked he looked down at his hands in the darkness and saw the black streaks in the dim light of the blood that was beginning to dry on his hands and shirt. He looked a menacing fright to anyone who saw him, his tan polo shirt stained in blood, sam’s blood. Stumbling over a curb he came to a patch of grass shaded by trees and a bench. The area was meant to be a respite for those visiting sick ones, or a place for workers to get some fresh air. He knelt down upon the grass and rubbed his hands in the cold dewy grass, trying to wipe the blood from his hands. Furious he rubbed them until they were a mix of grass dirt and blood. He pounded his fists into the ground  and slouched down, feeling defeated.

He could not get the image of the basement out of his head. No man should ever have to endure such pain. If he wanted to hurt him just do it, just finish it. The tormentor had to enjoy this, get some pleasure from it to inflict such agony and still have the man alive. The means used were interrogation at its darkest. The kind that the outside world did best not knowing about. This character was a real threat and not to be taken lightly. He sent an obvious calling card by his actions tonight. Sam was in this place because of him. LC brought this on his friend, he was the bringer of death to those he was closest too. He began to beat himself up, more and more, his fists now pounding into his thighs. He even punched at his wounded side so that he could feel the sharp pain that he deserved. His scream cracked through the stillness of the night.

As he sat there on that cold November night, snowflakes began to fall from the sky. Their white icy dots landing on the man’s thinning hair, melting quickly. The season was changing again, soon fall would turn into winter and the snow would stay around longer forming a blanket of white everywhere. Hiding the death of the season past. LC tipped his head back and closed his eyes letting the flakes land upon his face. The cool feeling was a relief against the heat that had built up from his emotions. He did not move. The body of the detective stayed still, trying to let the cold take him to his core, to let it cool the fire inside of him. It only served though as a sharp contrast, the cold and quiet of the late autumn night, versus the fire and passion of the emotions inside of him.

“LC?” A man called out as he approached the grassy area from across the parking lot. LC did not respond except for to lower his head again. The moisture from the snow streamed slowly down his face. “LC what are you doing out here?” Barry stepped towards the man and lade a hand on his shoulder. “You are going to get yourself sick”

“I deserve it Barry, I deserve it” He said not looking at the man, his eyes still closed.

“Are you alright? You look terrible. You are shivering” The man shook his shoulder lightly trying to get him to look up at him, it was no use though. “What happened….I am not taking a statement right now, the time will come, I am just asking as a friend” Barry remained standing behind him, hand still resting on his shoulder.

“I should be the one in that hospital room, not Sam, he did not do anything wrong!” Anger filled his voice again.

“Did you do something wrong?” Barry asked and then shifted his weight a bit when LC did not answer “I am not implying that you did, just the way you said it”

“I just went after the truth, and found that there was a greater force trying to protect it. They used Sam to get to me, I’m sure of it. The bastard tortured him” LC took a deep breath trying to collect himself. The snow began to fall harder and harder, still not enough to accumulate on the grass, but enough to begin to soak his shirt. It began to cling to him. He began to shiver more forcefully.

“What man are you talking about?” This was the first he had mentioned it, maybe it was a slip. He was going to endanger even more.

LC shook his head quickly “I told sam too much, not even anything important and look where it got him. Do you think anyone who could do that would be stopped by a badge. I don’t think so, if I tell you anything else I am putting you in the damn headlights. I can’t” Barry released his hand from the kneeling man’s shoulder and took a seat on the steel bench that was a few feet away.

“LC, I can’t help you if I don’t know what is going on. I can still leave things from being included in anything official till we know what is going on, but Christ look at yourself, do you think you can handle this on your own, someone is already in the hospital over this!” barry immediately wanted to take the last words back as soon as they left his mouth but it was too late and hurt more for the fact that truth rang through them. LC shot the man a glare and stood up, walking a few feet off into the distance staring off into the blackness of the woods that lined the property of the hospital. “Even if you don’t tell me everything you are going to have to figure out some way to come up with a story for what happened and how you were the one to stumble upon the scene. Nothing can stop that from happening.”

LC hated to admit that the man was right. If he wanted to keep things shielded from the public eye till he knew more he had to have some other reason for finding sam the way he did. There was no easy solution. Barry could be a valuable resource, LC struggled with the idea though of putting someone else in harm’s way.

“LC I am a grown man, if I ask to help you and let me in on this I know that there are risks. I am not Sam” Barry rose from the bench and walked slowly up to his old partner. “I am a cop, I take risks every day, some more measured then others. It is part of the job. If this is risky so be it…. I just don’t want to see you shoulder it alone. You have to tell me what is going on. Otherwise no more coming and asking me for help without throwing me a damn bone. I won’t do it.”

LC turned to his partner, he would have smiled if he could. The man was loyal to the force but also loyal to what he thought was right. The two things did not always jive in the past, but a few years will change some of those feelings. Barry put his arm on his back and began to guide him back to the hospital.

“Now you gotta get back inside, your teeth are clattering worse than a locomotive. Come on” the two of them crossed the dark parking lot and went back into the warmth and light of the hospital emergency room. The night was far from over.

 

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An excerpt… NaNoWriMo Novel—– a Little Bit of Terror

(unedited, don’t care about errors)

The old man began to stir in the chair he was now prisoner too. The sentry sat in front of him and a little off to the side into the darkness beyond the light of the overhead bulb that lit the area near the beam. Sentry sat still and quiet, just watching as awareness began to creep into the old man’s eyes. He shook his head apparently trying to clear the haze from the hit he had taken earlier. He had been out for nearly an hour, no doubt he had already sustained a concussion. The doctor began to blink and look around the room, his head bobbing and swaying slightly in the slowly returning consciousness. Sam coughed a few times and winced at the pressure it applied to the wound on his head.

“How nice of you to finally wake up, such a rude host to stay asleep for so long.” Sentry said from the shadows and the doctor immediately turned towards the sound of the voice. His vision was no doubt still blurry as he blinked hard trying to clear his eyes.

“Who are you?” Sam coughed again, wincing “What are you doing in my house and why do you have me tied up down here.”

“You sure ask a lot of questions being the one who is tied up with nowhere to go. Don’t think you can set the tone of things.” Sentry rose from the shrouded chair and stepped into the light. He was an imposing figure, dressed all in black. Black pants that looked suited to someone in special ops. A black jacket, full of pockets and zippers covered his torso, it looked like something a pilot would wear, maybe just a little different. He had on his black sunglasses, horned rimmed, his hair slicked back tight and neat. He still had his black leather gloves on and a pair of black combat boots. Even wearing them he still made no noise as he he approached the prisoner and knelt down before him. “I will be the one asking the questions here Doctor Samuel Greggory.” He reached a gloved hand to the bounds mans chin and squeezed it firmly. “Do you understand that?” Sam spat in the mans face, a smear hung against his sunglasses. “Now that was a mistake.” Sentry patted sam’s cheek mockingly and stood up.

“Screw you… Let me out of here” Sam began to struggle against his bindings but failed to make any headway. The dark figure took off his glasses and withdrew a handkerchief from his pocket to clean them, and then his face. How disgusting he thought as he replaced the glasses and went to the old end table that housed his tools. Sam began to shout and yell at the top of his lungs. The noise echoed around the basement. Sentry picked up the straight edge razor blade that was on the table and held it up to the light. Sam instantly froze, staring at the item as it glinted in the light. Its clean stainless steel surface shining brightly.

“Do you really think that anyone is going to hear you down here? I don’t think so.” He shook his head and looked at the tool in his hand and then back at the tied up man. “If I were you I would save your strength. You are going to need it.” Sam’s eyes grew big as the captor stepped towards him. Realization filled the spaces that were not held to terror.

“You!..you are the one that shot LC!” He tried to struggle against the tape and bindings again but it was as futile as the first attempt.

“Ahh, so you know about that. Maybe this will go a little easier than I thought, but that really isn’t any fun. I like to have to work for it a bit. What has Mr Everrett told you his recent endeavors?” He began to reach the blade out towards the man’s face. He grabbed his hair with his other hand and held on tight so that the man could not thrash his head about.

“He hasn’t told me anything. What do you want? I haven’t done anything!” Sam yelled looking at the man, his eyes flitting back and forth to the blade.

Sentry pulled his head back “Not good enough Mr Greggory” The blade sliced across the man’s cheek causing a gaping wound. Crimson blood instantly began to flow from the slice. The man screamed. This time with more gusto than he had before. Sentry turned and grabbed the cotton rag from the table and shoved it forcefully into the man’s mouth. HE mumbled and cried from behind it, gurgled noises tried to make their way out.

The captor began to circle around the old man. Sam’s eyes were trying to pop their way out of his head, the terror that filled them was a little joy to the man as he circled around the chair, like a bird of prey circling what was to be its next meal. This was much easier than any conflict in nature though. There was no chance that his target was going to find a way out of this one. The trap was already closed tightly around the poor prey.

“If you want this to be as easy as it can be you will tell me everything that I need to know.” The man in black stopped in front of sam and in a slow methodical motion reached his armed hand towards the man. Sam’s eyes remained transfixed on the blade. Sentry held it in front of his face, tormenting him. In a quick motion he sliced across the man’s forehead opening a new wound that soon bled into the prisoners eyes. Gurgled pleas came from behind the cotton cloth. Sam’s face was now a mix of crimson red and ashen white. All the color drained from the unbloodied flesh, or what was left of it. Sentry brought his other hand in quickly to the man’s stomach and punched hum forcefully. Sam began to struggle to breath. Sentry went to the table and placed the razor blade down and picked up the hammer that was sitting neatly on its top. He walked over and tore the gag from sam’s mouth as he struggled to breath. He gasped, sucking in air through ragged lungs. He coughed and choked as he tried to find his voice. “Now if you scream again the rag goes back in, and you might not be able to breathe. You don’t want that now do you?” He asked with a menacing smile on his face. Sam shook his head and looked down at the hammer in the mysterious man’s hands.

“What do you want?” Sam, slowly began to catch his breath, the gasps grew less forceful. The dark clad man stepped forward, dragging the small coffee table behind him. The sound it made as it scraped against the concrete floor was similar to nails on a chalkboard. Psychological warfare was something that Sentry enjoyed, not as much as actual physical warfare, but it was all part of the bigger picture. He placed the table in front of sam and pulled his bound hands to it. He held his wrists there with one hand and held the hammer out at his side.

“I want you to tell me the truth. I want you to tell me everything that you know about LC Everett…. You lie and you pay. If you satisfy me, I may just make this quick.” He slammed the hammer down against the older man’s hand. The sound of fingers breaking from the force could be heard. Sam screamed and then cut the noise out quickly, too afraid to anger the man. His fingers were a mangled mess of twisted flesh and bone. He sobbed, his tears mixing with the blood that stained his face. “Now that I have your attention we can continue”

 

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Writing while seriously dosed with cold meds… and an Excerpt

Being that I am hopped up on cold meds and caffeine to counteract the drowsy effects I have no idea if what I am writing is any good. I don’t plan on rereading anything till the month is up though, so I may be pleasantly surprised or horrified.

Yesterday I was off, which was a blessing for two reasons. First I was able to get a head start on my writing for NaNoWriMo. I put in more than 9000 words which is roughly a little more than five days of writing. This is great because I never know when life is going to get in the way, even though that thought is funny if you know my life and how little comprises of its daily tasks. Second I am sick as a dog so it was nice to be off. Unfortunately I am just as sick today and have to go back out into the working world. I am sure that it will prove to be a long day of blowing my nose between helping customers. I would call in if I could but I don’t think they would appreciate that.

Regarding my story I am happy with where things are going write now. The characters are taking shape and my direction is changing as I go. I am enjoying writing about the private detective in my story. This is the kind of thing I have never really done before. MY writing in the past has always been in the sci fi and fantasy genre, sometimes even horror in short story form. It is fun to be creative in a different way. I was told though that mysteries can be difficult especially the way that I right, which is making a lot of it up as I go. I am sure there will be some trying times, hopefully though I will be able to work through them.

Anyways below I have included an excerpt from the story so far where the private detective is revealed. Let me know what you think.

 

Private Detectives Location

(unedited)

The office sat in the middle of a rundown strip mall just off of the highway. Half of the stores were shuddered up, signs of a small town bending under the weight of an economy that could no longer support it. Only two other businesses were left in business inside of its cookie cutter store front space. One of them was a used book store specializing in four for a dollar specials and where no real gems could be found or were already picked through and sold for much greater profit online. The second of the three occupied spaces held a cramped asian market that held all sorts of oddities and aromas that could not be deciphered, nor did many really want to know what they really were. The third little shop held an office. Nothing special about it. Plate glass out front read LC Everett PI. He was a rare breed in these woods. A detective trying to make his own way and not officed in a larger city. He would work there of course but drew the line at having to reside there. Everett enjoyed the slower pace of this area and was just fine with the slow business as long as he could always pay the bills, which was most months that is. The front room held two chairs and a receptionist desk that was never manned. The two chairs supposedly for if he ever had more than one client in at a time. Lc could not remember if that had ever actually happened. In the back office LC made his home among the file cabinets that held his years of work. Mostly spouses trying to catch their cheating significant others. And most of the time their hunches were dead on. He did not enjoy that part of the job. Confirming to individuals that there marriage truly was over and it was time to hire a lawyer instead of a private dick. There were good moments though, which were few and far between, and then there was the grey area that filled everywhere else.

LC was upper middle aged. Balding and big in stature. Not out of shape by any means but the kind of country big that one would find on the farm. In his youth he was the town hero. Football star in highschool. Promise and all that until an injury ended his playing days and he decided to take up law enforcement. He was a good cop. Honest and tenacious when it came to finding the truth. Many times at the cost of the law that he felt shielded criminals far too much. He left, on who’s terms he never says and started his own path to finding the truth where he would have the leeway and freedom to use the means necessary. He had regrets about the past, but those are just it, the past, now he deals in other peoples pasts.

Before him scattered on the desk were a few files. These files were not of the typical types that he saw come through his office. There were two names on the files. Each of them a case of a missing loved one. In each case there was no evidence of foul play and in each case the police never opened an investigation. These two cases were his hobby. The things he worked on during his own time. Cases that occupied him as a puzzle he could not solve. He was preparing for his weekly update. It was a task he felt obligated to complete even though he knew that it was not necessary. He looked over the first file and dialed the number having committed it to memory. He cleared his throat as the line rang. On the other end an elderly woman picked up the phone.

“Mrs. Harris?” he waited for her reply knowing already that it was the 70 year old woman he had spoken with weekly for almost two years now. “Yes Mrs Harris, its LC Everett…. Yes Mrs Harris” Her voice was distant and quiet as she spoke “No Mrs Harris, unfortunately I don’t have any good news. I have not found anything new yet…. I am sorry” She paused on the line and for a moment no one spoke “I will keep working to find your son mrs harris…” He looked at the picture of the 46 year old scientist. He looked like any average decent person. Missing for two years now and no new information. “Mrs Harris you do not need to worry about sending me any payment. We talked about this already” He paused to let her say she insisted. “If you want to send me anything send me some of that cranberry bread I love so much. We will call it even then…. Alright Mrs Harris. Have a good night”

With that he hung up the phone and set the picture back on the desk. He rubbed his fist into his eyes trying to relax away some of the strain. Not having the answers was the toughest part of the job. Not knowing, when knowing was what he did. He had spent thousands of his own money on these cases and could he say he was any closer? He sighed and picked up the second folder. “Angela Beal” This was a call that he would not have to make again. He was too late for this one. LC picked up the news paper on the far end of his desk and flipped it open. He set it down flat and looked in his desk. Rummaging for an item until he found what he was after. Withdrawing a pair of scissors he began to cut into the paper. Methodically he clipped out a small article the size of a common coupon. On it was the picture of a man. He found a pin and stood up walking over to the cork board on the far end of the room across from his desk. He pushed the pinned article into the board and stood there reading the obituary for the fifth time that day. The picture was that of Thomas Beal, loving husband of Angela Beal. The obit failed to state it but LC new the facts. Thomas Beal was found in his garage by a neighbor with his car running. He died of carbon monoxide poisoning. LC was too late for him. He failed Thomas and Angela too. He vowed to continue his search for answers.

He shook his head and grabbed his wool jacket off of the rack by the door as he headed from his office and locked the door. He had to touch base with the facts again. Or try to start from the beginning. It was a good thing he never married because if he was any wife would obviously think he was out cheating and would soon have another PI out investigating him. All they would find would be a man obsessed with his job and answers. This was his life, and it was his passion. At the moment he did not need anything else, except maybe for some black coffee, the kind of stuff that would raise the hairs on your neck. He knew just the place and smiled as he got into his dinged up Cadillac. It wasn’t pretty but atleast it was roomy and reliable. That was what he needed. He started the car and quickly pointed it in the direction of the Route 42 café.

He drove along the back roads and side streets, taking his time, taking in the surroundings. As always watching and observing. He loved the lifeblood of small towns and cities. They were always alive if not on as big a scale as the big cities, but here you could more easily pick out the character that completed the city as a whole. Every place this size had a living breathing life of its own. He could always feel its pulse and knew exactly where to get the most current information if you knew how to weed out the facts from the gossip. In LC’s mind gossip always had some truth in it. That is what would make it juicy.

(works copyright of the blog owner)

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An Unquiet Soul (working title) Part 2 – – NaNoWriMo

(again first draft, unedited)

Ryan stopped off at the bakery after work to get his girl the dipped cookies that she loved so much. Not like he had to get anything else for her. Katie was always telling him how much of a romantic he was so he thought he should always live up to that. The day started with a home cooked breakfast in bed with all of the extra touches, like a single rose on the breakfast tray. When it came to breakfast no one else could top him when it came to scrambled eggs.

Every day when he woke up was a blessing to have her by his side. The honeymoon never seemed to wear off the way it did in other marriages. He was still surprised at how when he had all but given up on finding that one person she came into his life like a storm quickly appearing on the horizon and with all of the power it could bring. His life was better for her and he always hoped she felt the same way. He would never let her forget how important she was to him and anniversaries let him shine.

Five years had come and gone in the blink of an eye. All he could do was smile and think of seeing her face light up when he came in the door with the pick bakery box. The two of them did not have a lot of money but they knew what was important. There were never any extravagant gifts but if they had each other they did not need them. They took joy in the little things that they had together. The little things were what made up life and they understood that.

Ryan stopped at the last light before their street. He always forgot how soon darkness fell this time of year. The leaves were already off of the tree and the moon was casting shadows on the houses through the barren branches. He loved this time of year for so many reasons. The light turned and a honk from behind him reminded him to go on his way. He waved in the mirror and drove on. He turned on the blinker and pulled on to the quiet street. Warm glows were coming from most of the windows. Families settled down for the night. Most dinners already served and dishes already cleared away. He could see the glow and flicker of tvs with their dancing images reflecting off the windows that showed out into the world. This was suburbia as anyone would define it. The charm of the small city where anyone could raise a family and grow old.

He pulled into the driveway of their small two bedroom home and turned out the lights. Something was off. The house was dark. Katie should have been home well over an hour already, done from her day at work and already relaxing. Ryan took the box from next to him and left the car. He walked to the front of the house and turned the handle on the door but it would not move. It was locked when it should not be. He fumbled with his keys in the dim light and found the house key to open the door. He turned the knob again and pushed the heavy wooden door open. Inside he was greeted by stillness and dark. Not a single light was on.

“Katie?” ryan called out into the darkness before switching on the living room light. “Katie are you home, Katie?” He crossed the carpeted room to the dining room and looked at the table. Everything that was on it seemed to be strewn about. It was not the image of neatness it usually was. Books and mail were strewn about its surface. He set the pastry box down and turned the light on in the kitchen as he entered. The kitchen left no signs of life. Anxiety began to build in him. It was not like Katie to not let him know what she was doing or if she would be late.

Ryan left the kitchen and headed for their bedroom. It was an image of someone leaving in a hurry. The dresser drawers were open. Clothes were strewn about laying on the bed and all over the floor. “Katie….” He called out in a much quieter voice. He crossed the room after a brief moment and switched on the bathroom vanity. The cupboards were open and all of her toiletries and make up were missing. He stood there staring at the scene trying to let it all sink in. None of this made any sense to him. Realizing he had his cell phone on him he pulled it out of his pocket and held down the number 2 to call his wife. It took a moment to start dialing and it felt like an eternity. The line rang twice before a prerecorded message began to play.

“I’m sorry, but the number you have dialed is no longer in service.” The message paused and then replayed again. He began to panic. Quickly he dialed the service number for his carrier and got through to a rep after entering the wrong selection too many times. He quickly verified he was Who he said he was impatient for the process.

“Mr Teague, how can I help you today?” The overly cheerful woman asked

“I need to know why my wife’s line is disconnected” He said impatiently. The girl sounded confused as she answered after looking up the account

“I am sorry Mr. Teague but Katie Teague disconnected that line this afternoon. She said it was no longer needed” Silence filled the line “Mr Teague, can I help you? Mr Teague?” At that moment he noticed Katie’s phone sitting on the bedside table. Off and lifeless. He sat on the bed, in his house, his empty house his mind numb.

A few hours would turn into a few days. That first night Ryan did not sleep, nor did he ever even attempt to close his eyes. He stayed in his dress work clothes and sat in the dining room holding the picture of the two of them that was uses as their engagement picture. Their faces smiling and beaming at each other. A moment that might not ever happen again. Hot tears began to stream down his face and he felt nothing but the searing pain of loss. Katie was his life.

The sun began to rise on the next day. A grayish dim light began to peak through the windows and the realization that this was really happening fueled the fire ember that burned in Ryan;s Chest. He dropped the picture and began a frantic task of calling all those he knew to see if they knew anything of Katie. Knew where she might be or anything at all. He called all of her friends that he could think of. The task made even more difficult by the fact that her phone was wiped clean. Not a single number left or call dialed. None of them were  any help but to assure that she would show up sometime, they were sure of that.

Katie had no real family. Or at least none that were close or of any contact. She came from a home that was broken and left her past neatly behind her. She did not talk much of it and he never pressured her to, now though it was a worry that he did not really know how to get ahold of any family she did have. She had an aunt who she grew up with but that was about all. Ryan could not get ahold of her and quickly grew frustrated. Sleep would not be anywhere near his mind so he decided a hot shower and some coffee was in order to awaken his senses.

Ryan got out of his work clothes and turned the water as hot as he could stand. It scalded his skin and turned it a rosy pink shade. He wanted the discomfort to waken him and get him to focus. He was trying to think up a plan but all he could come up with was why? That question would build inside his head. He tried to answer it but nothing would come. They had what he would consider the perfect life. Never had there ever been a bump in the road with them. They never went to bed angry and the few times they ever argued about anything it would quickly fade to be replaced by a hug or a smile. None of this made any sense.

He turned off the water and quickly toweled off. Determined to get any information. As soon as 9 am rolled around Ryan dialed up Katie’s office and quickly got her personal line. Absent minded he redialed again to get the receptionist. He asked for Katie’s boss or lead or anyone who would have any information. He got through to the head of development after staying on hold for too long.

“I was wondering if you heard anything from my wife Katie?” He asked

“What do you mean? Isn’t she on vacation with you?” He asked puzzled by the question. Ryan answered quickly. “Vacation? What vacation?”

“Katie put in for vacation two months ago. She had a lot of it built up and took off the next two weeks. You aren’t telling me you didn’t know? “ Ryan hung up. His wife had planned a vacation and he did not have a any idea of it. “Vacation?” he questioned to himself. The rest of the day would turn into a daze. He was lost with his thoughts. After being up for nearly 2 days he succumbed to exhaustion and fell asleep on the couch in their living room. He slept fitfully into the early morning hours when his dreams finally caused him to stir and his horror could continue into reality.

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NaNoWriMo Story in Progress – – (Untitled for now)

I have no idea where this is going. It is unedited and any further posts will be the same….

The bottles all looked so inviting. Golden liquids and dark mahoganies. So many unique types with all their own flair and characteristics. The man stood before them staring, gazing from bottle to bottle. What harm would it really be to pick up one of these bottles and head home. What harm would there be in letting their spirits wash away the memories that destroy the peace that his life does not know. He remembers what the warm feeling is like. The delicious soothing buzz that would erase the worries of the day and the horrors of a life lost. In the end what is it really going to matter if he picked up the bottle and had one night of bliss. The man reached out and picked one of the bottles off of the shelf. He turned it in his hand feeling the weight of it. He suddenly felt the pressure of those around him. He could feel their cold hard stares judging him. Casting shame in his direction at the very thought of what he wanted to do. “How dare you!” “Disgusting!” “Pathetic” Their voices rang in the back of his mind. Each moment that passed a dulling ringing began to sound from within his ears and his heart began to race. Cold sweat began to bead on his forehead as he stood their battling his own thoughts. The struggle was always there. There was never a true moment of calm. Clarity would always be a fleeting thing. One thing began to cut through the moment. The knife that guided his hand to set the bottle back on the shelf and step away. The shame of knowing how his family would view him if he went back to that life. In a world where he knew no one or was completely isolated from any judgment he would have easily taken that bottle home and downed it until he could not remember even his own name. He did not live in that world

Shakily he found the will to move away from the display and took the few things he had collected from the store to the front check out. This was almost his daily routine. Fighting these ever present battles. Maybe the day would come when he did not have to worry about slipping back into that dark habit. This was the hardest time though. Work done for the day his mind no longer occupied with the menial tasks that kept him busy. Freedom was the most dangerous thing when it came to a mind that liked to live in the seedy places of the past. Idle hands, idle minds would be just the same.

As he placed the few groceries he had selected for his dinner and breakfast the next day at the check out he could still feel the eyes of all those around him staring. The oppressive feeling fed his anxiety and would not dissipate until he was able to get back to his apartment where he could shut the door on the stares of others. The common moments in life could be hell for someone who felt what he did. Feelings that were amplified in the recent past by the events that gouged at life.

The items on the belt were his focus, doing what he could to ignore the world and be aware of its every object at the same time. Finally the clerk said the obligatory greeting and began to scan his items. The man nodded at the young lady and said nothing. The total flashed on the  display in front of him and he fumbled in his wallet, finding and handing his card to the girl and stood there for what seemed like ages until she handed both his card and a receipt to the man. He collected his bag from the elderly bagger and nodded again as the two of them said “good day” in almost perfect stereo.
Stepping out into the night air he lets its coolness fill his lungs. The sweat on his brow now felt cold and damp. His shirt clung to his lower back, a feeling that was not pleasant in the least. He stood there for a moment. Collecting his wits and calming his nerves. The anxiety began to fade away and his heart began to beat at a more normal pace.
“Watch out!” he was jolted from his peace as someone came out of the store and bumped into him and remarked rudely. He grunted a response and took that as a cue to head for his car far in the back of the parking lot. The parking lot was deserted yet he still parked where no one would notice him coming and going. Unlocking the car with his free hand he placed his bag on the seat next to him and turned the key in the ignition. Luckily the ride home was not a long one. His solitary rides in his car were not things of calm. It was a time when he was stuck with his thoughts. Prisoner of the small space and the solitude. Even the radio or music would not help. Music would find a way to remind him of the past. All of the songs that he once loved were tainted by it. And news or talk radio would not be enough to occupy his mind. He sighed and put the car into drive.
The Streets were filled with the working masses. City streets in the average American city.  Torrence was the picture of rockwell’s dreams. Small shops lined its main street. Businesses of all types that made for strolling on a sunny day. In the darkness of night all the storefronts were dark though except for the few diners and a Chinese restaurant that was open every day of the year. He past the dark store fronts wondering what a normal life was like. All of these people coming to and from work. The kids walking home from activities at school. The families heading out for a supper out. What was a normal life like. It could not be that he was living such a thing. If that was the case then whatever god was watching all of this had a sick sense of humor. The man wondered at this every day. Wondered why he did not have the same smile on his face or light hearted laugh he saw and heard in so many others.
His thoughts consumed him as his body took over on auto pilot. It was so often that he got to where he was going without even remembering the journey. His mind always conversing and battling. Back and forth. Movies of memories past and what should have been, what should have happened, What no longer could. Coming back to reality he realized he past his apartment a few blocks ago and quickly found a street to double back on. These moments happened all too often. Lost in his mind reality suffered. Sighing he turned the corner and pulled his car into his parking space behind his apartment building.
It was not the place you would find the successful in life, nor was it the place of the dope fiends and felons. It was a place where people simply lived to get through every day. Quietly in their own little worlds. They did not make a point to get to know you. No one was throwing a party to have everyone over. It was where those with the will just to survive came to go through the motions and get to the next day. It was  a place where your history was an unknown and that was okay. It was the kind of place the man needed. A place where he could escape and have no presence in the world. At least that is what he thought he needed. All he knew was that he was alone. And as he sat in the car with the engine running he was reminded of the lonely little place of the world he had carved out.
He cut the engine and left the world for the night.

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An idea begins to take shape

Even though I decided to join the party a little late this year it seems an idea for a story to consume my NaNoWriMo participation is taking shape. The event starts on monday so I only have two more days to get some storylines and history together to begin to create the base for what I want. I started this morning and a few things slowly cleared out of the fog of my imagination. This year I am going to create a story that is heavily grounded in the things that I know. I am going to use some of my hardships over the past few years to create a character that has some realism and can bring some emotion to the page.

Now I am not saying that it will be a memoir of any kind. I just want to base the character a little on who I am and have the story take legs from there. So far I am enjoying the creative stage trying to pull ideas together. For a while I sat thinking and going between different genres, from the fantastical to the epic, and even some horror. Reality kept creeping its way back into my mind and I decided to give into those thoughts. I will ofcourse throuw some twists in and it still may deal with some supernatural mysteries and conspiracies. I will give you a little bit of a run down on what I am thinking.

The story will revolve around two central characters who are drawn together through a series of mysterious events. The first character will be the man modeled off of myself. A man who has seen more than his fair share of tragedies in his life. Two years ago the man lost his wife and daughter in a terrible accident that left their home in ruins following an explosion. Everything that his life was was ripped away from him in an instant. The grief and depression almost consumed his life to the point where his actions came very close to ending his time on earth. He found some strength to be able to soldier on and is living his life again when the past comes tumbling back into his life in the form of a mysterious letter regarding his wife….

The second character I will not give as much detail or backstory as I want this person to be more of a mystery and an unknown. I will say that the character is a private detective and that the two are drawn into a melded existence that has them both looking for answers.

The rest I am still figuring out as I go. I know that there will be some sort of a conspiracy and things will not seem as they trully are. I hope to post the story as I go so if you are so inclined you can feel free to read along. Hopefully tomorrow night and sunday night I get more time to draw up some plot points and ideas for some of the beginning chapters. The more I can get down the easier it will be to keep on writing.

Well I look forward to sharing more as I go and look forward to more posts.

Good night..

Dan

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A dark and quiet place … memories lost

The light was faint and far in the distance. It was a dull in comparison to the silvery moon high above. It called to the man, consuming all other desires or feelings. It was the only thing that was left in his world everything else faded into the periphery. He forced his aching body to move and his legs obeyed the command that his nerves shouted out. Each step was labor, pained, but the idea of finding any answers or help numbed out the sensations that would have crippled any other but the strongest of men. Each step brought him just a bit closer and hopefully further from the ominous terror that was still behind him. The fear of the unknown demon that prowled the woods still had all of his hairs pricked with tension. The electric pulse of anxiety raced his heart and gave his fingers a shaking twitch that would have made any manual action all but impossible, but he did not need that ability right now. He just needed his legs to continue to carry him.

His hobbled gait began to close the distance over the dreary terrain. The light began to grow and become more real. The man was relieved that it was not an illusion that had tricked his mind. It had to be real now that it was growing closer and more present. He still c ould not fully trust his mind though until he was standing in front of what caused the illumination. Tricks could easily be played on him with his senses in such array. Even so he let hope sink into his thoughts and begin to ease the sense of dread. Hope fueled his need to continue and soon he was rewarded with a scent that was bliss to his nose. It was the sharp yet sweet smell of a wood fire. The smoke began to lightly scent the air and soon became more present. The man breathed deeply, the smell reminding him of a past, a childhood that should hold so many more memories than it did. He searched his thoughts trying to find the memories that were trying to immerge from the haze but they would not come just out of reach. He could not clearly remember anything but his trek along the woods. Instantly the fear returned. Instantly the paranoia consumed him. Instantly the demon of the wood was at his back, its hands outstretched until he felt the touch of cold fingers upon his shoulder.

His mind snapped and he ran screaming the rest of the way until reaching the relative safety of the light. He rested his hands on his knees, hunched over catching his breath. After a moment he stood up and looked at what the light revealed. A small stone cottage with a thatched roof stood before him. Wood smoke wafting from its stone chimney. Faint light spilled from the only window he could see and the door that stood barely adjar. A sliver of light cut through the night from its opening. Calling to him Inviting him inside. He stepped forward, answering its call.

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