Happy Thursday folks. Another week almost done. This is the most I've blogged and wrote in years. I still can't believe it.
Last week's entry to #ThursThreads won me an honorable mention. I'm glad this story seems to be resonating to people. It isn't quite coming together yet but that's what is great about these snips is I am able to build the story piece by piece and can work through issues step by step.
I'm still working through the Mourningstar story right now. Not sure how I feel about this particular week. It's not rushed, it's just not hitting me right. I like elements of it, but maybe it will become more clear the more I work in this story.
For anyone curious about the other great entries for this week, you can check them out on Siobhan's blog here: #ThursThreads
And here's my entry for this week's #ThursThreads:
Prompt: "He knew the end was coming."
x-x-x-x-x
It
didn’t take long for him to gather what the alleged informant wanted. He was
not a poor man and had multiple resources available to him, some less savory
than others. However, this was important enough to call in a few of the more
colorful favors. What was telling wasn’t so much what information they were
offering, but what they were asking for in return. He’d laugh if he wasn’t so
filled with rage.
The
location of the hand-off was fairly non-descript: the stereotypical abandoned
warehouse. Places like that didn’t scare him, and he wasn’t about to walk in
without taking some precautions of his own. He had learned very early on in his
long life what happens when you don’t.
He
arrived at the given address at the exact time requested. A single light shone
from overhead illuminating a partially open steel door. He pushed the door the
rest of the way easily, the well-oiled hinges silent. His footsteps were the
only sound as he walked into the middle of the vacant warehouse. There was no
other illumination present but he didn’t need them to see the interior.
It
was several minutes before he heard another soul. A gust of air behind him was
the only indication he was no longer alone. He didn’t bother to turn. He didn’t
need to. He knew the end was coming. The end of this charade that his family
actually cared about him and his life.
“Hello,
Brother.”
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The #Mourningstar drabbles are based on the Lucifer TV show. While my story is original and divergent from canon, I am playing in another creator's sandbox.
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