Gunshot

“30 minutes… 30  minutes until we are hunted by people we used to call friends.”

“I’m not going to let them touch you. I promise, we will be fine. All I have to do is figure out a way to get us a signal.” Tom said. The damp earth made him shiver. Tom fiddled with the old HAM radio he was able to steal. “If only I could just get this piece of shit to work!”

“Stop it! That’s our only way out of here! We are stuck on an island, with people hunting us like foxes, and you are trying to break the only thing that can get us help!” Sarah sleep deprived and frightened snatched the radio from Tom.

Sarah and Tom used to be a part of an exclusive organization, ENAHA. Exotic North American Hunters Association, it was a club to hunt the most dangerous and exotic game possible. The Association, while being a legitimate organization, had members that partook in barbarous acts. The hunting of human beings. Tom had come across this information as he was hunting with one of the members.  Unfortunately for Tom, Sarah was an upstanding human being.

“Hey.” Tom nudges Sarah awake. “Hey wake up, I think I got the radio working!” Faintly audible voices are heard coming from the dusty radio.

“Oh my god! There are!  Talk to them! Tell them we are in trouble!” Sarah exclaimed.

“This is Tom and Sarah Cransty, we have been kidnapped and brought to an island unknown to us. We are on the South part of the island, if anyone is out there please help us.” Tom and Sarah both stared at the little old radio hoping for some kind of response. Ten minutes go by and only static has been heard from the radio.

“Maybe we should try to get some more sleep in. What if they found us?”

“Ok, let’s take shifts though, someone should be on the radio at all times.” Tom said exasperated……

“Aaaeeeeiiigh!!!!!” Tom, awakened by the shrill of his wife stands up immediately ready to protect his mate.

“Sarah! Where are you?! SARAH!”

“I’m right here, it was just a bird that startled me.”

“ Jesus Christ Sarah, you scared the living shit out of me. You can’t scream like that with people looking for us. I don’t know why this is even happening. We used to be FRIENDS. I was supposed to be Marlow’s Godfather for Christ’s sake!” Tom said.

            “FINE, OKAY FINE YOU WANT TO KNOW WHY WELL HERE IT IS!I… I found out that they were hunting. Hunting PEOPLE TOM! They were hunting real people. They kidnapped them brought them to an island and hunted them like boar. I told them that they had to stop or I would go to the feds. All those missing people, all those headlines in the paper. It’s been the association, well some of them. This is them shutting us up. And it’s my fault.” Sarah, out of breath sunk down and started to sob.

“You knew… You knew why we are being hunted? You didn’t tell me? You… you. Not only did you know why we are running for our lives from a pack of cannibals. But you CAUSED this!?!!!” Tom started to yell “You didn’t think that this was something I should know about? Maybe I wanted to know that I was being tracked by some of the worlds best hunters. Do you think this is some kind of book Sarah? You think we are in a movie!? We aren’t going to get out of here alive. This isn’t Rambo, this isn’t some fairy tale. We are going to die, in grime covered dirty clothes, on an island. And nobody even knows we are here.” Tom writhing with anger turns away and starts to walk away from Sarah.

“Where are you going!? TOM!” Sarah screamed in desperation.

“I’m leaving. If you want to keep secrets, so can I.” Tom walked off into the woods.

“TOM!” Sarah paused.

“TOOOOOM!!!!” Sarah curled up into a ball at the base of the tree, sobbing.

A gunshot is heard in the distance…

Interview

His palms were sweating. The clock’s incessant ticking only worked as a chronic instigator to his anxiety. The room was an eggshell white. There was a constant and quiet hum of the A.C. only interrupted by the receptionist, softly murmuring appointments to exasperated businessmen.

“Tim Casey, Mr. Erickson will see you now.” That was it. Those were the words he had been waiting for all night. The polite woman opened the eggshell door to the eggshell room. Clammy palms gripping his $5 briefcase, he walked into the office. It was bland. There sat a modest oak wood desk, topped by only a small lamp, an agenda, and a few pens. The windows were covered with dusty grey curtains, the kind that looked like they haven’t been touched in years. The carpet had obvious tracks through it with the corners of the room being nearly untouched.

“Mr. Casey! Good to finally meet you. Your resume was fantastic, a Yale grad who is still on the market after two years? I figured you would have to be a leper!” The man bellowed. He was a fat man. Two chins, the second swallowing the first. His chair was extra-large, to accommodate his stature. His beard was scraggly and unkempt, yet throughout all this, he had a commanding presence. He was a man who knew how to hold the attention of a room.

“No. I’m not a leper, just a man with a computer science degree looking for a job. Nobody has called me back except for you. The job market is especially tight right now.” As soon as the words left his mouth he regretted them. He’s the only one who called me back? Now he knows that I’m desperate. Backed into a corner, that’s what I’ve done to myself.

The corners of the fat man’s mouth tightened into a wry smile. “Well, isn’t that a tough situation then? Here’s my offer Tim, I’ll give you 40,000 to start, and you can work up to 50 after 5 years. We can put that into a contract. How does that sound now?” Tim was speechless. That was half of what people with his qualifications were getting paid. Does he think I’m just going to let him shaft me with this? I’m worth twice this!

Sweat started to bead down Tim’s head as his anxiety started to get the best of him. “I.. I.. I can’t take this. I’m worth more than what you are offering here.” He squeaked. Tim dry washed his hands hoping to conceal his nervousness. Negotiating his salary isn’t something he prepared for. The eggshell walls seemed to creep closer to him, the fat man looming over him.

“Well, that’s the best I can do Tim. You can accept it or leave it, but if I really am your only call back you might want to consider this for a moment.” Smugness crept over the man; he leant back in his chair folding his cradled hands on top of his stomach.

Dry mouthed, Tim swallowed. “I’m qualified to run the whole IT department. In fact, that’s what I’m applying for. This is something that takes years and years of school to do properly. I don…”

“I don’t care if you are qualified to run a spaceship Timmy, I have made you the best offer I can. If you don’t want to take it then you can leave my office, and the best of luck to you.”

Tim hated the man already. He’s trying to bully me! Why can’t I stand up for myself? Come on Tim walk out… walk out Tim!

“Why don’t you pick up that pen and sign right here Tim. You aren’t going to get another offer like this.” The man pulled a greasy pen from  his jacket pocket and slid it over the worn out desk towards Tim. The smug smile crept back over his face. He pulled a cheap bottle of scotch out from a desk drawer, pouring it in two glasses. “To celebrate our new partnership Timmy boy, have a drink.”

Picking up the glass of scotch, Tim looked up at the man in disgust. Too much of a coward to walk out on this man, he took the glass and drank it all. In a quick motion he signed the contract with the greasy pen.

“Alright, when do I start?” Tim said with his voice wavering.

“Peggy will call you with everything when we have it all worked out. I’m looking forward to seeing you around here Tim.”

Disgusted with his own lack of courage, Tim walked out. Clammy hands still clutching the faux leather briefcase.

Blood

            The coffee table was broken, smashed into splintering pieces of wood. The room hazy with smoke, has shattered glass thrown about. Someone was lying down. There was a stain on the carpet, deep and red. She was wearing lingerie, red and laced. Lips wet with crimson lipstick, cheeks caked with red powder. She was young, only 20. Her eyes were grey blue, wide as if just seeing a murder. The door is wide open. Scratch marks mar the door’s natural beauty, Oak.

        The sunlight filtered through the thin Japanese curtains. The girl was covered in a blanket of sunset. She was in love. But now she is quiet, silenced by the same thing she loved to talk so much about. Her heart so big, so loving, was so easy to hit. Under her still body, was a puddle in the shape of a heart. Her greatest attribute was her greatest weakness, and she died the way she wanted to, smothered in love.

Pale Faces

            His eyes were bloodshot and strained, pupils dilated. His skin was a pale white with a red tint. His skin was cracking and lightly oozing blood around the eyes and neck. Illuminated only by the light from a computer monitor, he toiled. His fingers typed furiously. There was a shared wear between the keyboard and his fingertips, both worn raw from each other.

            The room was dark except for the small illumination of the monitor. The tan walls of the room seemed to swallow the small amount of light that emanated. The linoleum floors were torn, patches missing baring hard concrete.  The room was littered with papers, crumpled, torn, written-on, and barren. The soft hum of the air conditioner was only broken by incessant typing.

            Creaking, the door to the room opened. Light sliced through the darkness like a sword through feeble flesh. A petite woman stepped into the doorway; she was wearing an orange sun dress, with matching shoes. Her skin was a sun-kissed golden. Her hair shone in the light. She stood there, with a somber look on her face.

            “Erik? Erik hun, are you alright? You have been in here for a whole day now. Don’t you think you should get some sleep? I’ve made some biscuits if you’re hu-“

            “No, just leave.” The man interrupted sternly.

Shocked at the rudeness the woman stood in the doorway, mouth agape. The typing fingers have stopped moving, but the man didn’t move to look at her. He stayed hunched over, seemingly for her to leave.

            “You have been in this room almost exclusively for weeks. I think you should come out and see your children. They always ask where Daddy is and I tell them that you are working and can’t see them. Erik, they haven’t seen you in over a week. This book is driving you crazy! Take a shower, eat food, sleep for Christ’s sake!”

            “Damnit woman! I’ve been working on this book for months now! I’m not stopping when I am so close to getting it right. If I can get it right we might have some money alright?” Turning to look her in the eyes, he twisted in his seat. Giving her a look of what seemed to be disgust. “Why don’t you want me to finish this book? Do you think I’m not good enough? Do you think I can’t handle the criticisms? Or are you just jealous of me? Yeah that’s it, you can’t handle that I’m going to be famous; you want it all for yourself. Well you can’t have it! I’m going to finish this and be forever remembered in history like Homer.”

            As he stood up, it was clear that he hadn’t had a good diet in a long time. His frame was frail, his arms veiny, legs wobbling. The man looked to be near death.

            “That’s it! I’m taking the kids and going to my sister’s house. Once you decide to come to your senses and become a human being again you can come see me. But as long as you stay like this I don’t want to be around you.” The woman started to leave the room.

            “You are NOT, taking my kids anywhere!” The man screamed

            “You’ve turned into a monster.” The woman said calmly, looking at him with shock and dismay.

            Face flushed with red, he bolted for her. Snarling he tackled her. Screaming and flailing the woman tried to flee. Even in his frail state, the woman couldn’t over power him. The man put his pale, cracked hands around her neck and started to squeeze.

            “Erik, Erik… Eri…” The woman’s voice trailed off with a lack of oxygen. Exhausted the man slumped off the woman’s body and leaned against a wall. Chuckling he wiped his mouth of any saliva that spilt out in his anger. In the doorway stood two young girls, faces pale as their mothers. 

Hitch

“Alright, well make sure to be more careful next time. The law is there for a reason, you can’t go around speeding like that.” Officer Hitch sighed and started to back from the blue minivan.

“Yes sir, I’m sorry. I’ll try to stay to the speed limit. Thank you so much!” The teenage girl at the wheel already had sweat on her forehead. Would it be so hard for people to remember that cops are people too? People act like my only intention is to ruin their day. As he walked back to his car he noticed the radio

“761 on 300 Fletcher Ave. Any Available units please respond.” 761, that was just code for a small time domestic case, usually a kids bike got stolen or a housewife didn’t like the way a colored kid walked by.

“Hitch here, I’ll go ahead and see what the fuss is about.” The drive to Fletcher was just a couple minutes. Marble Town, that’s what the locals called this part of town. The neighborhood was known for it’s wealthy inhabitants. Many of the 7 figure houses here had marble floors, which is where the name’s from. The Crown Vic strolled through the town with welcome arms here. The black and white town car was a sign of safety for these people.

As Hitch pulled up to the house in question he noticed the door slightly cracked. Maybe they are just airing out the house; it’s a rather nice day after all. The house was dead silent, only the hum of a ceiling fan.

      “Brentwood Police Department! Hello?” Hitch called into the house, without a response he lightly pushed the door open and walked in. The affluent inhabitants were nowhere to be seen. “Brentwood P.D.!” He called again. Hitch walked through the house uneasily. It was obvious that a large family lived here from the pictures. A faint voice is heard from a doorway in the kitchen. Upon inspecting it, it was a basement. The stairs down were a complete contrast from the rest of the house, the stairs were rotten wood that creaked with every step. Spider webs hung in the rafters.  There was a heavy scent of moss and mold that hung around.

“HMMMMMM!MMMMMM!” The muffled voice came from further in the basement. Unsure of what he was getting himself into, the officer un-holstered his gun. Better to be safe than sorry he would always say.

“Brentwood Police, is anyone down here?” The muffled screams sounded out again. As he reached the bottom of the stairs there was a dirty woman tied to the wall, she was naked and gagged with her scraps of her own clothes. Immediately the cop holstered his gun and ran towards her to untie her. “What is going on here? Are you ok?”

            “They are in the other room, all three of them!” Her voice was an exasperated whisper. She started to sob and held Hitch close to her. “Kill them! P-please, just don’t let those pigs live!” The woman fell to the ground and resumed her sobbing. Hitch stood up, un-holstered his gun and walked towards the thick oak door where the woman pointed. The door handle was cold, and it took a strong push to make the sturdy door move.

            Behind the door was three men, clothed in black standing around a table soldering wires. Heavy rock music was playing in the room, loud enough so that the men didn’t even notice the heavy door open. Guns rested on the tabled around them, among the guns were hundreds of pounds of fertilizers. They’re making a bomb!

            “BRENTWOOD P.D.! PUT YOUR HANDS UP!” Hitch screamed it so they would hear him clearly over the music. The men turned their heads in unison. As they recognized what was pointing the gun at them they all grabbed at their assault rifles. Hitch fired shots at the first to grab his gun, hitting him in the chest; Dead. After the first one was hit the others had their rifles in hand.

            “You picked the wrong night to be a cop!” The other men unloaded a surge of lead. Running into the other room and diving Hitch started to scream. He had been shot, once in the left arm, and twice in the left leg. I’m not going to make it out of here alive… Unless. The woman was gone. Running to the stairs he aimed his gun at the mass of wires and fertilizer in the room. If he could hit the device that set the bomb off, and get up the stairs he just might live while killing the other two guys.

            He limped up the stairs shooting his remaining ammo in the direction of the bomb. He must have hit something right because the next moment he was propelled into a wall. Half the house was blown into bits and pieces. Hitch’s left leg was completely blown away, to his luck the explosion had cauterized the wound as well. Laura… I love you… Please remember that I will…

            “An explosion on Fletcher Street has officials speculating as to what could have happened. An officer was dispatched to the scene and hasn’t been heard from or seen as of yet. B.P.D. has yet to give an official statement…”

Purpose

This blog is just for me to organize and display my attempts at creative writing. I've had peers and family ask to read what I've written. This is a hub for them to do that. Usually the writing will take the form of prompt and then response. I may have several "story" posts where I edit a previous story that I feel like continuing. Any constructive feedback is welcome.