Writers Block

Just a bit of flotsam floating in my head today.



They've been quiet today.
Why today? 

So chatty the past few months. Telling me their stories. Making sure I understood everything.

They gave specific instructions so I could write each chapter exactly as they lived them.

Today though, today they have said nothing.

I keep thinking back, did I miss some important detail? Did I did I not strike the right mood?  

Are they mad? I feel like  are ignoring me they on purpose.

Yeah, they used to get pissed off when I joined my friends for lunch, or drinks on the weekend. But, that hasn't happened for a long time now. My friends don't call anymore.

I mean, it's not like they can just grab their phones and have a chat. 

I do kinda miss those spontaneous dates.

But they said it interfered too much with telling the stories. I had to get rid of those friends.

And truth be told, I don't miss them all that much. 

Most of the time.

Except for Ginny. Her I miss.

It's particularly hard to get rid of Ginny.

The others, not so much.

Becky was so wrapped up in her kids, she was making me crazy with all the pictures and bragging. Oh my God, the bragging! You'd have thought her kids were geniuses.

Your kids aren't so special now are they, Becky?

And Robbie, constantly off on some adventure where he was the best looking, smartest, funniest...blah blah blah. Of course, all the women just fell all over him, too.

Your last adventure wasn't quite what you expected, was it Robbie? 

So, they don't call anymore

But, that was alright. They were still here to talk to me. 

I do wish they would have accepted Ginny. 

Maybe that's why I'm being ignored. They are mad because I'm still holding on to Ginny.

I bet that's it. As soon as I let go of her, I'll be on the good list again.

I'm just not ready yet. Maybe I can appease them by spiffing up their stories. After all, they want people to read them, right? 

Who shall I start with? 

Regina. She'll want everyone to understand. She never, ever really meant to hurt her kids. She just wanted to give them baths. 

Becky's kids needed baths, too. It made Regina sad how dirty they were. Just like her kids. She could never keep them clean enough. She showed me how to clean such dirty kids. It was hard, but we got it done. Made it easier when we finally made Becky shut up.

Or I could work on Clyde's story. How he accidentally pushed his best friend off a mountain in Italy. Yeah, his best friend was screwing around with his fiance, but it was still an accident.

Robbie's last adventure was in California. There are mountains there, too. Not as special as Italy, but Clyde said the mechanics are the same.  

Marty won't let me tell his story yet. He asks how can I tell the story if it isn't finished? 

Marty's story is just so hard. I mean, I got the first part right. The kidnapping was easy. And describing the choking sounds took a little work, but I got through it. The last part though, that's holding me back.

I can feel Marty giving me the stink eye. 

That's why they aren't talking to me.

Damn.

I suppose I'd better oil the chain saw and dig Ginny up. Just get it done.

Then I can get busy on Jack's story. Jack's is the best of all their stories. It'll be longer than the rest. The research is gonna be exhausting, but it'll be a best seller.

They just know it.

The New Maid

Linked with Master Class Monday at EatSleepWrite
I chose the prompt: Maid for Murder



"Here's your room, there's a bathroom room with shower. The bed sheets are fresh and the dresser's been emptied." Janice said while pointing out the specifics.

Carly nodded, the single room apartment was surprisingly roomy. Following Janice up the steep stairs, she'd expected a cramped space. Though the ceiling sloped dramatically on either side, the completely furnished area was arranged for minimal head bumping. 

The long room featured sitting and sleeping space, the bathroom centered on one side. Each area had a large window as well as a skylight. The sleeping area also held a desk pushed against a small door in a knee wall. Puzzled, she asked, "What's that for?"

"Attic access, we don't use it." Janice replied then quickly recited the terms of employment. "Room and board for regular housekeeping. You'll be expected to start your duties at eight. You're shift ends after the evening meal, about six. You are free to do what you wish after that." Janice continued, "We lock up at ten o'clock, if you're not home, you're not getting in until seven next morning."

Carly nodded her understanding.

The first week flew by in a flurry of activity; working, and shopping for necessities. Worn out she was in bed well before the ten o'clock lock up.

Several weeks later she woke to find her bed bathed in light. After a moment of disoriented panic, she realized the full moon was shining through the skylight. 

Mummbling to herself, Carly slid her feet into slippers and shuffled downstairs. Hopefully, Janice was still awake and had something she could use to cover the window. She was disturbed to find the door was locked. 

Irritated, she knocked, "Janice? It's Carly, I need a blind for the skylight." No sound came from the other side. "Janice! Open the door, Janice!" She pounded on the door.

As she considered screaming, she heard footsteps followed by the scrape of a key. Janice opened the door in her nightgown, sleep tousled hair, and an angry frown. 

Carly was confused, "Why is this door locked?"

"It is after ten, I told you, we lock up at ten."

"I didn't know I'd be locked in."

Janice glared at her. "It's the middle of the night. What is so important that it couldn't wait until morning?"

"I need a blind for the skylight, the moon is making it daylight up there." Carly said.

"Moonlight, this is about the moon? Go to bed. We'll discuss this in the morning." Janice waited for Carly to climb the steps.

"But..."

"I said, in the morning!"

Janice slammed the door. Carly heard the scrape of the key, relocking her exit. She raised a fist, about to pound again. Reconsidering with a sigh of annoyance, she stomped, loudly, back upstairs. 

After several minutes of pacing, she finally returned the bed, rolling to the edge, she turned her back to the moonlight only to find its reflection on the wall. As she lay staring at the offending light a shadow slowly appeared. Carly spun around seeking the skylight. She caught a glimpse of something pass over the upper edge of the window. 

She leapt out of bed, hitting her head on the low cieling. Her thud was echoed by the sound of footsteps from beyond the skylight, crossing the roof and down the other side. After a short silence there was scratching behind the small attic door. 

Carly raced down the steps. Pounding on the door and rattling the knob, she screamed for her employer once again.

She realized Janice wasn't coming. She perched on the bottom step and huddled against the solid wood of the door. 

She heard something dragging across the carpet in the sleeping area. Padded footsteps approached the darkened stairwell.

Refusing to look, she pounded the door, begging for release.


Janice unlocked the door at precisely seven o'clock the next morning. When Carly didn't come down to attend her duties, Janice climbed the stairs. The room was tidy, though the bed was unmade. And a small can containing assorted pens and pencils lay scattered in front of the desk that stood against the attic door.

"Harumph, third one in six months. Afraid of a little work."

Fast Food

Master Class Summer Edition #2

SAM asked Lexy to choose any book and give her a 10. Here is the new assignment from the 10th page:
the assignment is to use that line somewhere in the body of our piece. 

Murph looked up at the darkening sky.  Thunder rumbled in the distance, they needed to get a move on.  The incoming storm would be a disaster if they didn't wrap up soon.

The ME was going through the deceased's pockets, looking for ID.  She'd already done liver temp to establish approximate time of death, or TOD.  There hadn't been any visible injury, the autopsy would have to determine the cause.

As he scanned the area in front of him, Murph made a mental catalog of the elements of the scene.  Middle aged male, curled in fetal position on the grass in front of the park bench.  No briefcase, but an empty fast food bag.  The half eaten burger several feet from the body, as though he'd thrown it.  While the team was busy elsewhere, some pigeons had waddled over to inspect it.  "Hey!  Charlie!  Bag that burger before those vermin make off with it!"  He yelled over the latest roll of thunder.

"Got it boss, sorry!"  Charlie hustled to the sandwich with an evidence bag.

Murph moved on, muttering thoughts to himself about the scene, the imminent rainstorm, and the half-assed job his crew was doing.

"Boss?  I think you better come see this."  

He heaved a sigh, then joined Charlie at the body.  "What'm I seein', Charlie?"

Charlie pointed at a pigeon beside the burger, now not only partially eaten by the deceased, but bird pecked as well. 

"It's a pigeon, Charlie," said Murph, as the sky opened and rain began its cleansing.

"Yeah, Boss, I know that," Charlie answered.  "But, Boss, it's a dead pigeon, now."

Finishing the Job

Trifecta: Week Seventy-One


Congratulations to first and second place this weekend!  And I'm so excited to have been chosen for third!  Thanks to all that sent me congrats. 
This one stumped me for a while, I hope I got the prompt right...

On to this week's one-word prompt which, this week, is inspired by the recent arrival of the Hong Kong monsoons and the start of April in general.

rain (transitive verb)
1: to pour down
2: to give or administer abundantly <rained blows on his head>

3: to take a lot of money in bill form and toss it up in the air. This is most effectively done at a strip club for the effect of raining one dollar bills on the dancers (and it makes them feel so pretty), or to snub a hater by throwing money into their face that then falls to the floor like rain (use this when paying a debt to a punk bitch who keeps asking for their money to the point that they are ruining your friendship or when dumping someone who has been bankrolling you for a while now that you're making money).

Please remember:

• Your response must be between 33 and 333 words. 
• You must use the 3rd definition of the given word in your post. 
• The word itself needs to be included in your response. 
• You may not use a variation of the word; it needs to be exactly as stated above. 
• Only one entry per writer. 
• If your post doesn't meet our requirements, please leave your link in the comments section, not in the linkz. 
• Trifecta is open to everyone. Please join us. 

Arlen Jeffs exited the elevator on the twelfth floor.  It was near midnight, far too late for a legitimate business meeting.  But then, his business was far from legitimate.

"Bruce Darden" was the name etched on the brass nameplate.  The door was unlocked as promised, he entered and crossed the outer office.  

The man was waiting within his private office.  Arlen scanned the room quickly.  The dim lighting was enhanced by the full moon shining through the panoramic window on the outer wall.  A mahogany desk dominated the room, it sported a photo of Darden with his arm around a petite brunette, palm tree and the blue of an ocean in the background. Jeffs had a picture of the same brunette in his pocket. 

Darden stood at the window, his back to Jeffs. "Is she dead?" he asked as he watched the light traffic through the glass.

"You're free of her."

"Then I suppose you're here for your pay."  Darden turned away from the view and reached to the desk. He pulled a heavily stuffed envelope from the center drawer.

"The full amount is here, count it, I don't want any mistakes."  As he turned to Jeffs, his eyes focused in fear on the gun pointed at him.

As Darden backed against the window, Jeffs fired.  The silencer muffled the shot, but it couldn't mute the sound of the window giving way to Darden's body as it fell backward, the envelope following him.

As Arlen Jeffs looked down at the scene below, he was joined by the brunette from the photos.  He unconsciously wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"You okay, Jenny?"

"Yes, Daddy, I'm okay."  Together they watched the rain of bills settle around her husband's broken body.