Here's the collection of entries I did for #MenageMonday from March to June of this year. Hopefully, I will do a better job of staying caught up. :)
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3/5/12
Title: Trouble Abroad
I double checked my location as I pulled into the driveway
of a rundown, seemingly vacant motel. Nevertheless, the address was correct and
I continued into the parking lot.
“Rhys, I need help,” Jay had said when he called me the
other night.
“Sounds serious,” I commented.
I didn’t waste any time before I headed out. Jay wouldn’t
say if he needed money or help of the illegal variety. Knowing Jay, it was probably
a little bit of both. Before I left, I grabbed my Springfield Armory 9mm pistol.
I pulled up to the unit Jay had indicated. The lights were
off and I couldn’t hear a tv or anyone talking. I chambered my gun and walked
carefully to the door, keeping the barrel low but ready.
I pushed the door open with the barrel of my gun and looked
around quickly. The room was empty, but appeared to be tossed. Just as I walked
completely in the room, the door shut suddenly behind me and cold metal was
shoved against my temple.
“You can’t ever go home again, Rhys,” Jay said, his voice
flat and void of any feeling.
I opened my mouth to respond then everything went dark.
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3/19/12
Title: Music of Passion
“Check this out, Johns.”
“You found something, Daughtery?”
“I think so. The manufacturer stamp on these strings matches
the ones we found.”
Johns examines the small package of guitar strings, one of several
at this particular vendor’s booth.
“Can I help you gentleman find anything?” the man who ran
the booth asked, as he wrung his hands.
Johns holds up the string pack. “Where else can these
strings be found?”
“Um, only at my shop. I make them myself. I usually custom
make them for the particular guitar player but I’ve started making a more
generic line.”
Johns and Daughtery exchange a look.
“Where were you the night before last?” Daughtery asked.
“I was at home, why?”
“We found a broken g-string, made by you at a crime scene. A
man was garroted with the string before it broke.”
The vendor’s fale paled and he stumbled back before sitting
down in a chair he had to the side of his stand.
“And you think I did it?”
“We aren’t sure. But we’d like you to come down to the
station and answer a few questions, just a formality, of course.”
The man sighed and wiped his hands over his face.
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4/9/12
Title: Uprising
Billowing black smoke cut across the azure sky. The acrid
smell of burning infected everything: clothes, hair, and skin. The smoke was just another sign of what had
happened in the last day, structures and property that suffered too much
damage, burnt to the ground. It was better to be destroyed than to be used by
the creatures.
Driving down the road, you could almost pretend that the
last twenty-four hours hadn’t happened. You could almost imagine that this was
just any ordinary road trip, and not a flight for survival. You could pretend just
as long as you kept your eyes closed, your nose pinched, and your ears covered.
Most people were running, or driving, but fleeing the
devastation for the hills. Surely in the country it wasn’t like this. Surely
those creatures hadn’t made it that far yet. There were far too many things
within the city to keep the creatures attention, at least we hoped. We
pretended that we’d be safe at our destination, until the military was able to
force the creatures to retreat. It was that little lie that would sustain us …
hopefully before we starved or became like the creatures.
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4/16/12
Title: Checking In
(#WIP500)
After spending several days in the city private archives,
Alana and David turned their search to the Wardville Public Library. As they approached, there seemed to be a lot
of people there for a weekday evening. Alana passed through a large crowd of
people and discovered the reason. There was a big "Open House" banner
draped across the top of the main entrance.
"Ah, I had forgotten about the renovations," David
murmured as he guided her through another group of people. "They just
finished a 5.5 million dollar renovation bringing the library out of the stone
age and into the 21st century."
Alana chuckled and continued her way to the main entrance.
Just as her hands touched the steel and glass door, she was hit by another
blast of voices and a flash of a vision. She shook her head to clear it and
grasped her pendant tightly.
"Anywhere but here," she whispered, her voice
tight with fear.
David wrapped his arm around her and looked around for
anything suspicious. "Come on, maybe it will be better inside. They can't
be everywhere, can they?"
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5/7/12
Title: The Storm of the Century
(#WIP500)
The evening wind swirled around Alana’s brown hair as she
stared at the fire. David had brought her to the beachfront campfire, hoping
the hypnotic fluidity of the flames would help relax her. They both knew that
the final confrontation with the Destroyers was coming to a head. It seemed
each day that more and more evil seemed to surround them, like a building
storm.
“I just need more time,” Alana said, as she threw bit of
driftwood into the fire, turning part of the flames bluish-green.
“Unfortunately, time is not something we have,” he replied,
stroking her back softly.
“I know. I just wish things were different. I didn’t ask for
this.”
“Neither did I, but it is what we are and we can’t not do
something.”
Alana nodded and poked the fire. “I don’t have much of a
choice. The Destroyers would come for me, no matter what. If I want to live, I have
to defeat them."
“Not just for you to live, but for all of us. No pressure or
anything,” he added, drolly.
Alana nudged him with her shoulder. “Nope, no pressure.” She
laced her fingers with his. “But, I have you to help me.”
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5/14/12
Title: Riding for Love
True love is like a roller-coaster. It’s crazy, exciting, and scary all at once. Dating, just like waiting in line for the ride, is sometimes boring, sometimes interesting. You meet people along the way; maybe make a few friends, but no lifelong connections. Nothing, until you actually get on the ride.
But, before you get on, you have to let go. You have to allow yourself to fall; otherwise you just hold yourself back from real happiness.
This is your time. No more bad break-ups, unanswered phone calls, or star-crossed lovers for you.
You are in the car, strapped in, and ready to shoot for the stars. The excitement builds as the coaster goes up the first hill, that initial honeymoon period of the relationship. Your heart pounds, your palms sweat, all in gleeful anticipation.
Once you crest that first hill, and you fall, screaming your head off in sheer joy, you are in the moment. You go up and down and turn and bank, through highs and lows, just like any relationship.
What matters, is when you step off that ride that you are together. As you step away, while the initial excitement is over, the happiness never ends.
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5/21/12
No Title
The village was in awe as they watched Sol slowly disappear
behind Lun. No one spoke. Not a child cried. This was a sacred moment for all,
except one.
She cowered in her cell, shaking as she watched the
countdown to her life. She believed in the sacredness of the disappearance of
Sol, and the necessity of the rebirth of her people, but she didn’t want it to
be her. She had plans for herself, a life she wanted to lead.
However, the lottery had other plans for her. Being randomly
picked didn’t make the shock any better. Everyone congratulated her family for
the high honor. She put on a brave face, but inside she was terrified.
The village’s histories said she would be reborn with the
city, that the essence of her body and blood would feed the crops and nuture
the soil. Her sacrifice would appease Lun and bring Sol back.
She closed her eyes as she tried to keep the tears at bay
when she heard the priests walk down the corridor to her. This was it. She
would find out if the legends were true.
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6/4/12
Title: Moonlight Serenade
“Doing this at night only works if there isn’t a full moon,”
Hank cracked, as he waiting for some cloud cover to strike.
“Bite me, Hank. How was I supposed to know tonight was going
to be a full moon?”
“Oh, I don’t know, check the calendar or the weather report
beforehand?”
George ignored him and wiped his forehead. “Jesus Christ,
it’s hot out here. Why the hell is it this hot at night?”
“It’s a dry heat, desert and all.” Hank shook his head and
wondered why he agreed to do this one last job with George. He wasn’t known for
his planning ability.
“Why are you such an asshole, Hank?”
“Why are you such an idiot, George?”
“Fuck you, Hank. I don’t need your shit,” George retorted as
he stood up out from under the cover of the rocks, the moonlight reflecting
across his face.
“George, get back here before they see you!” Hank hissed.
A gunshot rang out and George’s body crumbled to the ground.
“I guess you did need my shit,” Hank replied to his dead
friend’s body. He quickly grabbed George’s handgun and his own and took off before
their target came looking for him.
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Thanks for reading!
