Flash Fiction

This is a little flash fiction piece I wrote based on the song "Kiss It All Better" by He Is We. I rather like the way it turned out. Tell me what you think.

Kiss It Better

“Give me your wallets and valuable, now, and no one gets hurt.” The moonlight refracted off the muzzle of the mugger’s gun.

Her stomach clenches as she gasps, coating her lungs with frost. Trembling, she slowly moves her purse down her arm, eyes locked on the gun aimed at her.  As she extends her purse to the man her boyfriend makes a sudden movement beside her, and then a searing pain rockets through her body. Falling to her knees, she watches as the smoking gun fell with her and the coward fled the scene.

He drops beside her, clinging to her bleeding body; her name plays on repeat from his lips, the sound echoing in the parking structure. Blood stains his hands as he tries to staunch the bleeding wound in her chest. The Tiffany’s box in his coat pocket stabs his leg uncomfortably as she shifts to look weakly up at him.

Her hand finds his cheek, fingers cold as ice. “Kiss it all better,” She cries, “I’m not ready to go.”

 “I’m so sorry.” He says again and again.

“It’s not your fault, love. You didn’t know.” She coughs, “You didn’t know.”

And then she’s gone.

Shaking, he takes her gold hand in his and kisses her face.

“Everything will be all right,” he says.

On the ground beside her ne notices the gun, rage filling his being, churning his thoughts and feelings, mutating them into poison that fills his veins. Picking up the murderer’s weapon he runs after him, fire in his eyes.

“I’ll avenge my lover tonight,” He says.

Waking with a start he sits up, reaching to his left instinctively. She does not lie beside him, and hasn’t for years. He sits behind prison bars; twenty-five to life, and she’s not in his arms. How he had thought that a bullet to the heart through the back of the man who tore his world apart would fix things was beyond him. But he holds onto her memory. All she is, is a memory.

Falling back onto his pillow he cries,

“Stay with me until I fall asleep. Stay with me.”

Long time no... write?

Well hello!

It's been far too long, I'm sorry that I've neglected this blog for so long!!! It's just been that I've been without a computer for so long that I haven't done anything. Well, that and I haven't done much writing in general for a while. It's been a complicated year. Anyway, I just wanted to share something that I did for fun. Let me know what you think??

It's called Target. Short story. Zombie apocalypse. The end.



With my back pressed against the cold stone wall I held my rifle tightly to my chest listening to the thuds and explosions of cement around my body from the gunfire. I kept taking deep breaths in order to calm myself; honestly, mankind had bigger problems to deal with than a turf war. In the back of my mind I knew it would only be a matter of time before the Flesh Eaters would converge on us. Unfortunately, the living were often times less intelligent than the dead.

“Maverick!” Cried a man across the small room, “Why the hell you just sitting there? Shoot!”

I rolled my eyes. “Can’t do that, Gunny” I shouted back, recoiling at a nearby burst of cement. “You can waste your bullets on the living but don’t expect me to save your ass when the Flesh Eaters are bearing down on you!”

Another burst of glass and cement flew around me. The shooting stopped suddenly, and the shouting started.

The Flesh Eaters had arrived.

Enemy gunfire was now focused on our new guests. I could hear the awful gurgling growls and cries of the living as the dead attacked.

“Time to go!” I shouted, jumping up and snatching my large black duffel from the floor. “Grab anything you can carry and get to the vehicles!”

Gunny stopped shooting, grabbed his bags and stupid baseball cap off the floor, shoved it on his head and moved across the room. Walmart and Day’s Inn scrambled to gather up the food. Daring a glance out the broken window I ducked again instantly. Flesh Eaters were everywhere, and the group that had attacked us was fighting to get away alive. Edging myself into position to see again, I noticed a young man on a raised platform taking out Flesh Eaters  with a calm and deadly precision. Blood splashed across his tanned skin, making him the image of the apocalypse we knew. I watched people pile into their dark SUVs and roar away; they had just left him there. You would have done the same thing. I gritted my teeth. I definitely shouldn’t have done what I was about to. Gunny and Walmart were shouting at me as I kicked open the side door to get to Abandoned and save him from imminent death.

“Get to the cars and come get me! Don’t just stand there, move!!” I screamed over my shoulder as I shoved a knife into the skull of a Flesh Eater.

Why I had stepped out of the safety of the bunker I had no idea. Rule number one of the apocalypse has always been every man, or woman, for themselves, and here I was breaking my own rule. With an instinctual and almost animalistic fury I cut my way through the horde to Abandoned. When he saw me coming he began to cover me. I heard the roar of the Jeep engine; one more Flesh Eater down and I had reached the platform.
“You’ve got exactly ten seconds to get that bronze hide down here before we abandon you too!” I hollered at him.

The bright orange Jeep and mint green Hundai ripped around the corner, Gunny smashing through the swarm to get to me. Abandoned clamored down as I dealt with the onslaught of Flesh Eaters. When he hit the ground a Flesh Eater caught hold of his arm. Adrenaline kicked in and I launched myself at the thing, burying my blade deep into it’s temple. It dropped to the ground with a thud; we needed to get out of there fast or we may as well have kicked the bucket right then.

Gunny screeched to a halt ten feet from us, shouting profanities as he threw the door open. Blindly, I gripped Abandoned’s arm and dragged him with me into the car. We had hardly been able to fling ourselves onto the seat before Gunny began to speed away from the bunker.

“Damn it, Maverick! You know the rules!” Gunny threw a nasty glare at Abandoned and then back at me. “Don’t risk your hide for anyone; especially not one that was just trying to kill us!”

My head had begun to throb. “Shut up, Gunny.” I growled. “Get us out of here. When we’re safe,” I shot him a teasing smile. “You can tell me again just how much you were worried about me.”

He tried to hide the flush in his cheeks by slouching into the seat and squaring his jaw. With a chuckle I turned to look at Abandoned in the backseat and my smile faded.

“Don’t get used to me acting so charitably toward you.” I said, pushing my dark hair behind my ear. “I should have just left you there to die, but I admired the fight in your eyes.” I made a quick gesture to Gunny with my head, “This here is Gunny. I’m Maverick, and in the other car we got Wal-Mart and Days Inn. Days and Inn are two different people. We don’t care what your name was, we only call each other by where we were found. Got that? You’re now going to be known as Bunker. Welcome aboard.”

He raised his eyebrows but said nothing. Ungrateful brat.

We drove for hours on the road going at speeds that would have only been legal on the Autobahn in the past. Past... it’s only been a year and a half. A line of cars sat deserted on the highway. We stopped to siphon gas for our vehicles and drove on. A dark house crept into view on the horizon, and wordlessly I directed Gunny to it.

Cautiously we rolled up, cutting the lights as we approached. Gunny stepped out of the Jeep; parked beside the house was a jet black SUV. There was no way that car could have belonged to the original owners of the rundown house. My hand closed over the barrel of my rifle as I watched Gunny approach the rickety looking building. Wal-Mart stood outside my door, gun poised to shoot. Why I wasn’t at the base of the steps with Gunny was beyond me, but I blamed it on my distrust in Bunker.

“How you feeling, Maverick?” Wal-Mart asked, his eyes never straying from Gunny’s back.

I didn’t look at him either. “I’m fine... Days Inn?” I replied.

“Days nearly had a heart-attack when she didn’t see you get in the car with Gunny.”

Gunny entered the house.

“She’s got to remember that death is a very real thing these days. Any of us could be gone tomorrow.” I was trying to stay indifferent about the group, but attachments were beginning to form.

“No shit Sherlock, you seen the wildlife these days?”

I cracked a smile.

Gunfire had Wal-Mart and I at the doorway in an instant. Shoving past him I entered the dark house, listening before I called out. There-- somewhere in the darkness-- I could hear the gurgle of a Flesh Eater; Wal-Mart heard it too and we backed into each other, holding our guns at the ready. Light caught the Flesh Eater’s eye and I shot feeling the kickback rocket through my shoulder and strike Wal-Mart’s back. Then, there was silence.

“Mav,” Gunny said gruffly from somewhere to my left, “Don’t ever shoot blind again. You almost took my arm off. Hate to lose that at a time like this.”

“So who got the Fleshy?” Wal-Mart asked, the heat of his back against mine disappeared.

“I did,” replied Gunny. “Before Maverick even shot at the thing, or rather-- at me.”

I shrugged and left the house. I had left Bunker out there with Days Inn, and I didn’t want to come to regret that decision. When I reached the yard again I found Days Inn pressed into each other against the Hundai. Sometimes I wondered if they were aware that the world had ended. Bunker remained seated in the car where I left him. My eyes darted around out of habit to check my surroundings before I pulled open the door. He didn’t flinch at the noise, just looked blankly in my direction.

Lifting my eyebrows at him I sighed, “You gonna explain why your people thought they could just move in and open fire on us?”

He shrugged but once again did not speak.

“Well?” I paused, “You gonna say something you ungrateful punk?”

Again, silence.

With an angry grunt I slammed the door shut and stepped away from the car. Wal-Mart and Gunny came out of the house and gave the all clear. Something about the area didn’t feel right to me suddenly, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. I looked around once more; this was the only house for what looked like miles.

“Gunny,” I whispered loudly, throwing a quick look at him. “Anyone in the house?”

“Just a couple of Fleshies. Won’t know if there’s anything else in there until we take a light to the place.” He replied while straightening his ball cap. “What’s Bunker’s story?” He jerked his chin toward the Jeep.

“Won’t say a word.”

A cold breeze swept through, bringing goosebumps to my skin. Winter was coming again. My hand tightened reflexively around the butt of the rifle, relaxing as the breeze subsided. The others had migrated into the house leaving Bunker and I outside. He finally exited the car, crunching through the crisp grass rather loudly. Tromping over the gravel toward the abandoned SUV, Bunker paid no attention to my admonitions of silence. He opened the door and I braced myself for the alarm; it did not come, and so I relaxed-- sort of. He rummaged through the car stepping away from it with a large blanket and what looked like a duffel bag.

“What’s that?” I asked, gesturing to the lump in his arms with my gun.

Bunker didn’t answer. I was beginning to wonder if he could hear me at all. As he wandered -- loudly-- to the house, I took my own look through the abandoned vehicle. There was very little in the car, which meant Bunker had most likely taken the only things worth pillaging, minus the car itself. Leaning into the doorway t o check beneath the seats, I noticed what looked like a box of slugs. Stretching as far as I could my fingers barely brushed against the side of the box.

“Remind me to watch you stretch more often, Maverick.”

My heart hammered against my ribcage as my body went limp for an instant before I righted myself and turned to Gunny with a dour glare.

“Were you always this charming, Gun?” My voice held a sickly-sweet sharpness to it.

A smile crept slowly over his lips. “The charm is tailored to the situation at hand. The world ended, Mav. Charm went out the window a year or so ago.’

His hands were on my hips. The around us felt charged and thick with tension. He leaned forward, his forehead touching mine; I forced myself to swallow the lump in my throat.

“God, not you too.” Wal-Mart whined, coming around the back of the SUV. “We get enough of that from Days Inn.”

Clearing my throat I stepped away from Gunny quickly, praising the heavens for allowing the flush in my cheeks to be hidden by the darkness. I climbed into the car and took the blox of slugs exiting through the door on the other side. Wal-Mart and Gunny were two steps ehind me. Entering the house one at a time, I looked around. It wasn’t much-- that I could see due to the dark-- but it was enough for now. Wal-Mart offered to take first watch. Days Inn were already asleep, curled up against each other on a couch. Bunker was leaning against a wall, the car blanket wrapped tightly around his shoulders. I couldn’t tell if he was asleep, but I didn’t care. I threw my duffel on the ground, closed my eyes, and let out a deep breath.

Gunny shook me awake some time later, again causing my heart to race, my white-knuckle grip on a blade handle tightening.

“I almost killed you, Gunny.” I breathed, blinking rapidly.

“Keepin’ you on your feet,” he yawned. “You’re on watch.”

Quietly, I stood up, picked up my gun and walked out the front door. The sky was beginning to get lighter, the barren landscape becoming more clear. No Flesh Eaters in sight. I stepped off the porch, shivering at the cold and began to make my rounds around the house. A huge orchard of trees grew behind the house. It seemed safe enough until I saw movement in the gray dawn light. I cautiously crept toward the edge of the orchard slinging the makeshift strap for my rifle over my shoulder. The shots from last night probably attracted the Flesh Eaters, and shooting now would inevitably attract more. My hand gripped the ribbed handle of the hunting knife at my waist, my breaths were shallow puffs of white in the morning air. I couldn’t hear the growls usually associate with a Flesh Eater, but then again, perhaps we only hear these noises because we are close, and they are hungry.

The snap of a twig behind me had me spinning to face the sound, knife at the ready. People-- living ones-- were approaching the house, weapons poised. I raced back toward the dwelling, pulling my gun off my back. The kickback from the shot shocked my body into action. The man at the back of the group cried out, dropping to his knee. These men... they were Bunker’s men! Pandemonium erupted in the house, and shots rang out. I took cover around the back of the house, peeking out to shoot when clear. I managed to take out two of the six before they left my target range. Dashing around the house I continued to shoot, taking out another man. Gunny was on the porch as the last man went down. He smiled at me as I saw Bunker appear behind him.

I heard the shot before my brain registered the pain. My vision became watery as tears welled up in my eyes. In a blur, Gunny rounded on Bunker, lodging his blade deep into his gut. Bunker dropped, joining the rest of his men in death. It was hard for me to hear anything outside of my own breathing; I knew Gunny was yelling as he reached me, his arms closing tightly around me. It was becoming harder to breathe now. My stomach was warm, slick with blood. Gunny had lowered us to the ground; he looked so frightened. I tried to smile, but blood filled my mouth.

“Maverick! Don’t you dare die on me.” Gunny was shouting when his voice came into focus.

I put my hand on his cheek. “Shh,” I hushed, “We all knew this  day would come, Gun. Don’t let me become one of them. Promise me that.”

He shook his head furiously. The blood pooling in my mouth seeped out of the corners; I coughed, splashing blood down my shirt. I could see Days through the window, tears shimmering in her eyes, body trembling. I offered her a crimson smile. She was so young and had so much to live for before the world ended. Inn took his place beside her, his face clouded with emotion. Wal-Mart knelt beside us; he extracted a Gloc. from his pocket and prepared to fire.

“No,” I whispered, pushing the gun away weakly. “I want Gunny to do it. Wal-Mart, make sure Days isn’t around to see this. Take care of them. Promise me...”

He put a firm work-worn hand over mine, sadness in his eyes. “I promise, Maverick.”

Gunny had tears running down his cheeks cutting through the grime. When we were alone, he embraced me tightly. Weakly I wrapped my arms around him. The cold muzzle of his .44 touched my temple.

I took one last breath.

“Goodbye, Gunny.”

RIP

It's official this time. My computer is dead. It actually gave its life up this time. The hard drive crashed, quickly followed by the love of its life, the motherboard. I guess these two couldn't bear to be apart for longer than two weeks, and pulled a Romeo and Juliet. Yep, I think the motherboard killed itself because it couldn't stand to be apart from its beloved hard drive. And look at the tragedy it's caused. Which means that until I either get a new computer or somehow fix my old one, Perfect Strangers has been shelved. I would work on it if I had the chance, but it was stuck on my old computer and the backup on google docs won't open. Good thing I didn't have my WTF moment stuck on the computer. That's been safely stowed away. Good thing too. I would have hated to lose that moment. It is such a brilliant moment. Anyway, if anyone knows a good place to buy a cheap computer please let me know. Aparently my being home and using their computer is a cause of contention between my mother and I, and therefore, I will probably stop coming over. Sorry for any inconvenience on your part. I'll keep drafting in my notebooks, but you probably won't get anything for a while. Sorry darlings. Love you.

Cheers,
Alex

Let the Games Begin

WOOO! School is finally finished and summer can officially begin! I'm excited for all the things that summer has in store for me, and for the new people that I plan to meet. I'm going to try and reinvent myself and learn who Alex actually is. It's going to be an adventure. And to begin our adventure, please enjoy chapter thirty-two of Perfect Strangers


Chapter Thirty-two

My heartbeat quickened, and my whole body locked up as panic flooded through my veins. He hadn’t noticed my pause, and walked a few steps further before turning to address me and realizing I wan’t there. When he finally turned around to find me petrified behind him, without words his eyes followed my line of sight and rested on the monsterous shadow.

“What are you looking at?” he asked.

Could he really not see it? It was twice the size of my normal shadow, and it bubbled and rippled as if it were only being separated from the real world by a thin veil. I could feel the ether seeping from it, and it made my stomach chrun something awful. With a shaky hand and even shakier voice, I whispered,

“Sh-sha-dow.”

His fine blonde eyebrow raised skeptically. “Listen, Laela, I know they let you leave the hospital with a diagnosis for something about the fear of shadows, but honestly love, it’s just a shadow. It can’t hurt you.” he replied, walking toward me.

The shadow curled into itself, as if recoiling from Cam’s presence. He put his arm around me, and I felt a strange flood of calm wash over me. He was using his magic, I could tell, but I didn’t mind. I put my arm around his wasit and clung desperately to him until we got inside and my shadow essentially dissappeared with the lights. Cam guided me to the elevator, his arm never leaving my shoulder until we had reached his dorm. When we entered, I was suddenly stumbling backward, Kitty clinging to me as we backed into the hall.

“Welcome home!” She shouted, kissing me on the cheek. “We’re so glad you’re back. I was worried sick about you, and when Stitch told me you were diagnosed with some strange phobia of... you know, I wanted to rush right down and stay with you until you could come home. Of course, classes prevented that.”

I smiled. “Well thanks for the thought, Kitty.”

She smiled in response, pulling me back into the room, where on the table was a small cake and some ballons. Jay hovered at the end of the table, his smile as wide as it always was, happy to see me home and okay. Their other roommates were sitting on the couch, gawking at me. They weren’t doing anything to conceal it either. I gave them a little smile, raised my hand in a polite wave, and then turned back to the table. Stitch was leaning against his doorframe behind Jay, watching me quietly. He didn’t smile, nor did he acknowledge that we had made any sort of connection in that moment. He simply stood and watched.

An hour later, the cake had been eaten, and laughs were infectious as Finn and Kol began their comedic banter when Kol stole the last bite of Finn’s cake. As we were rolling with laughter the door to the apartment opened, and I noticed the atmosphere get thick with tension.

Vance had entered the room, accompanied by his siblings.

“And I thought I would never see you all in the same place again.” Stitch growled. It was the first time he had spoken since I had arrived.

“Wonderful to see you again as well, Stitch.” Clarette snapped, her voice was poisonous.

“Big happy family reunion, wouldn’t you agree, Stitch?” Vance said, his voice and smile were sickly sweet. “You just missed Father and Mother.”

“Can’t say I’m sorry to have missed it.” Stitch’s voice had gone completely flat, and everyone could feel the chill in the air.

I glanced back and forth between them, waiting for something to happen, feeling like sooner rather than later, someone would break, and magic would be used in some way or another. My hands started to shake. Slowly I crossed the room and stood beside Vance; his hand slipped instantly around my waist, his fingers dipping into my front pocket. Stitch’s jaw tightened and his shoulders squared. I needed to get them out of the room before someone got hurt. Clarette’s glittering eyes had narrowed dangerously and Jack placed a hand on her shoulder to keep her in place. I needed to think quickly.

“Fa-- Vance,  why don’t we go to dinner? Laela can accompany us.” Jack said, using unusually formal language in his terse state. “I find it apparent that we are not welcome here.”

“Damn right you’re not,” Stitch seethed, the ether in the room getting thicker.

The corner of Vance’s mouth twitched upward, quickly concealing the snide smile on his lips. “If you insist on me taking her out, I will not resist.” his voice however did nothing to contain his smugness.

Stitch clenched his jaw, a shudder rippling through his body; Vance clenched his gut, gritting his teeth. Stitch had done something to him, I knew it. I threw my best glare at him before pulling Vance toward the door. We needed to get out of here before anyone else got hurt. As we left the room, I felt something heavy settle on my shoulders. Turning my head to inspect the cause of the weight I was greeted by the face of the horrible shadow in the mirror. I bit the inside of my cheek so hard I felt blood pool on my tongue. The metallic taste made me gag as I tried to keep myself from screaming at the sight of the monster. I dug my fingers into Vance’s side as we walked down the hall, reminding myself constantly that as long as I was with him, nothing could hurt me.

With Clarette and Jack close behind us, we left the building, crossing the gravel path to the parking lot where we left in Jack’s black Lotus. Vance and I sat in the back seat, his arm around my waist as I sat, curled into him. His breathing was calming, and the sound of his heart beat put me at ease. It seemed to me that everything went wrong unless I was with him, unless I could feel his arms around me, the electricity of his touch kept the monsters away. But even in the heat of his touch, I couldn’t help but feel the need for something else. Something that Vance couldn’t give me.

The car came to a slow stop; I wouldn’t have noticed the change if a man hadn’t opened my door for me. I looked at Vance, my eyebrows curled in confusion. He simply smiled and nodded his chin toward the sidewalk outside the car. Sliding out of the car I stepped onto the cobblestone and gawked at the restaurant before me. The Ritz Restaurant. I suddenly felt extremely under dressed, but when I looked down at myself to be ashamed, I found myself wearing a stunning gold dress that swepts over the ground and glittered like starlight. When did I get into this? I looked at Vance, who smiled, shrugging his eyebrows. He hooked his arm through mine and lead me to the door. Whispers floated on the air around us as we walked; they thought we were famous. I giggled to myself. Me? Famous? That’s a pipe dream. WhenVance approached the host at the door, I began to panic. A place like this would surely have a waiting list that went on for days. How could we just expect to show up and get a table? This fear dissolved when the man wordlessly turned and lead us into the restaurant, and sat us at a table in a quiet corner of the dining floor.

“How did we get this table? Aren’t there people waiting to be seated?” I asked as Vance polietly helped me into my seat.

“This is my usual table,” he said, “They’ve all been informed that if I’m ever to show up to seat me immediately.”

“I forget that you’re ancient and can do things like that.” I mumbled.

He chuckled, “You look stunning by the way.”

I felt my cheeks go red. “Thank you, but this wasn’t what I was wearing in the car.”

“I know, but you were so serene curled into my side you hardly noticed the change. It’s your dress however.”

“I can keep it?” I asked, a smile breaking across my face.

Clarette laughed, “It was yours to begin with, I don’t know why you would think you couldn’t keep it.” she said.

“It was? In what life? This dress is amazing!”

“Your last life, you were part of the wealthier eschelon in New York in the fourties. You often wore this dress when we went out to the theater.” Vance said. “Ah, I miss those times.”

“We’ve heard the stories a thousand times, father...” Clarette said, gasping as she finished, her dainty hand fling to her lips.

Had she just called Vance father? I waited for someone to say something, but they had all frozen in their seats. “Clarette, did you just call Vance, Father?” I asked, hoping to break them out of their paralysis.

Her hand dropped slowly as he eyes found Vance’s, holding them, waiting for an answer.

“Laela, darling, there’s something you must know.” Vance said slowly, looking me right in the eye, sending a shiver down my spine. “It’s not going to be easy to take in, but it’s time you knew.”

Silence filled the table. Clarette and Jack looked back and forth from each other and Vance.

“Clarette and Jack are not my siblings,” Vance said carefully, watching me. “They’re my children. Our children.”

My heart stopped. Our... children...! The air seemed to stop in my throat and my vision started to blur as I gripped the edges of the table for support. This couldn’t be possible. Vance had told me that my last life had spanned through the fourties, but how long had it lasted? Jack couldn’t be older than his late twenties, and Clarette didn’t seem to be much older than me.

“Darling?” Vance’s hand floated to my knee, but I couldn’t feel it. “Are you alright?”

Clarette blinked rapidly. “Father, I don’t think she’s breathing.”

Air flooded my lungs and tears burned my eyes. “Our... children?” I whispered. “How... when?”

“I know it’s hard to understand, but it’s real. Your last life was a long and happy one. Jack is thirty-four born to you in 1978, and Clarette is twenty-seven born to you in 1985.” Vance said, Clarette and Jack smiling. “We lived in New York, nothing fancy, you wanted to be in the city so we lived in a simple flat until... until he took you from us.”

“Forced you to marry him, and then you gave birth to twins by him.” Jack growled.

“Twins?” I asked, taken aback. How many children did I have in the last life? “Wow, I was busy. Four kids...”

Clarette giggled. “We’re not the only ones. You’ve got plenty more, Laela.” Her voice was light and airy. As I looked at her, I could see the resemblance between the two of us. It was almost startling. “We’re just the youngest.”

“Where are my other children? Are they your siblings, or Stitch’s children?” I had so many questions. I wanted to meet them. After losing my baby a few years ago I felt a desperate need to have someone to care for; a need to be a mother.

There was an uncomfortable silence between us. “Most of them have passed away. We have two other siblings, Carter Woolfe, and Regina Martin. They’re over fifty, they know you, spent most of their lives with you, until Stitch took you away before father got you back. That’s when you had us.” she said quietly. “With him, you have five children that are still alive. Two daughters and three sons.”

I gasped. A tear slipped from my eye as I smiled at them. Our waiter arrived then, and I watched as everyone grew stiff.

“My name is Murroa and I’ll be your waiter this evening.” said the man. I looked up and felt my skin go cold. This man, Murroa looked shockingly familiar. The boy from the hospital. “Nice to see you again, mother.”

Just around the riverbend

Finals are right around the corner, and then I will be free!!!! I will be finished and only have work to worry about. My pageant is in a week and when that is over, we move onto finals. Then I will write more of Perfect Strangers for you. I promise! Thanks for being so patient with me everyone! Life has just been stressful.

Moar story

So this is mostly for Erin since she's the only one that really wants this to go anywhere it seems, so Erin, enjoy.


She had hardly put a foot on the pavement before she was swept off into another black sedan and driven into a bustling city. She had grown up in a small town in England, but had lived in Vegas for years; Sin City had nothing on the amount of people here. After a short drive she was escorted out of the car into a large building.

"Miss Cox, please keep up," Agen Brown barked.

Kayleigh had hardly noticed the sluggish pace she had adopted, but quickly hop-skipped to Brown's side, still basking in the moment. She had finally made it. She was walking the halls that her father had, seeing what he would see, and soon, she would be doing what he had done. Almost. She wasn't working with MI-6, but one day she might be lucky enough to do so. Brown walked her through a maze of hallways before opening a set of double doors and leading her into a dimly lit room. There were voices beyond a wall, and she recognized the foreign accent at once. Australian. Agent Brown lead her around a corner where the voices stopped. Bending over a table were four people, two men, and two women, who had been in the middle of a rather serious conversation when she stepped in. Everyone at the table looked up at her, and the range of emotions on their faces was surprising.

A woman with curly auburn hair and dazzling green eyes held genuine surprise for a brief moment before quickly narrowing at her. She wasn't trying at all to disguise the scorn.

The other woman brushed her long black bangs out of her eyes. Confusion.

One of the men raised one of his brows. He wasn't impressed.

The last held one unmistakable emotion. Lust.

Kayleigh rolled her eyes at the man with the dilated pupils; men are all the same. She thought to herself. Agent Brown did little in the way of introductions, simply saying her name and quickly leaving the room, casting a final glance at the curly-haired woman. Kayleigh stood there, waiting for someone to say something, but when the curly-haired woman gathered a stack of papers off the table in a huff, brushing past Kayleigh with a growl. As if her departure had given him permission, Lusty sidled up to her, a sly look in his eyes and a smile on his lips.

“Kayleigh, huh?” he said, his accent was the same she had pegged earlier. “You must be the cop from Las Vegas,” he extended a hand to her. “The name’s Aidan Kellet.”

Politely she shook his hand and said, “It’s nice to meet you Aidan, and the answer to your unasked question is no. I won’t sleep with you.”

A smile broke across the faces of everyone, save Aidan, in the room and a low chuckle rumbled through.

“I like you,” said the woman with black hair. “I’m Skye Hayes. Get all your jokes out now because I don’t want to hear any of them later.”

Kayleigh smiled to herself, but said nothing. The other man in the room smiled and Kayleigh noticed her heart skip a beat. Had his smile really just done that to her? She smiled politely back, quietly analyzing him. He was taller than her in three inch heels, which put him over six feet. His hair was dusty blonde, falling messily over his brow. It looked as though he had just rolled out of bed for a photoshoot and they paired him with some gorgeous model to sell cologne. He could get a model... Kayleigh thought to herself. His eyes were sparkling brown and watching her as intently as she was him. She felt her cheeks go warm. He had to be giving her a false reading. No one had produced those feelings from her. Ever. Not even when they tried to be charming.

“It’s nice to finally meet you in person, Kayleigh.” he said. “I’m Tyson Koch. The man in charge--”

“--only in this room,” mumbled Aidan, still standing in the doorway with Kayleigh.

“Of this operation.” Tyson finished tersely.

Skye laughed, crossing the room and taking Kayleigh by the wrist and pulling her into the middle of the room by the table.

“Let’s get started, yeah?” she asked, eyeing the men angrily. “Time is of the essence here.”

Tyson nodded, crossing the table to a smart board on the wall and tapping the screen. What looked like a murder board back at the precinct appeared. It was filled with pictures of people and places as well as documents. As Tyson pulled other documents onto the screen Kayleigh stepped toward the board, focusing on the pictures of people. One image had caught her attention. From what she had seen, the mug shots were fairly standard, their faces blank as they were instructed, but one had a slight contraction in his upper lip; the beginning of a snarl. Contempt.

She didn’t know how to use the board, but she tapped the picture, dragging it into the center of the screen. “Who is this?” she asked.

Aidan was right behind her, speaking into her ear. “He’s called Etzio, but his given name is Carter Sattiotori, why?” His voice had been so close to her she jumped backward, straight into his chest. “Mmm, if you wanted to be close to me all you had to do was ask.”

Kayleigh took a deep breath, smiling slyly to herself. She flexed her back, rubbing it against his chest as she straightened her posture, glancing over her shoulder, portraying the emotion of desire.

“You’re right,” she said, turning toward him, noticing the confusion of Skye and Tyson, smiling again, tracing patterns up Aidan’s chest. “I want to be close...” she leaned toward him, her lips inches from his, when suddenly she turned back toward the board, putting instant distance between their bodies. “to this man.”

Aidan glared. “Why?”

“He’s got information that you need.”

“How can you know that from a picture?”

Kayleigh smiled proudly. “It’s what I’m paid to do, Aidan. I know he’s got information that you need, and I would like to speak with him.”

“He’s being held down the hall.” Tyson said, “We’ve already questioned him. He isn’t speaking.”

“Words don’t mean a thing to me. You can ask questions, all I need to do is watch.” she stared intently at the picture. “I will be in need of a video camera. That’s all.”

After ten minutes of searching, Kayleigh had a camcorder in her hands and was following Tyson to the room where they were holding Mr. Sattiotori. When she entered, she set the camera on the tripod and angled it directly at his face. His eyes were dark, unamused, and dangerous.

“This is Kayleigh, she’s consulting on this case.” Tyson said, opening a file. “Mr. Sattiotori, you were found on the scene of a highly radioactive warehouse. This is where the bomb was assembled, correct?”

Concealed smile. No answer.

“Mr Sattiotori, answer the question. We know you were involved in the production. Everything you were wearing had traces of radiation on it. Where did the bomb go?”

His eyes dropped to the left, staring at the ground for a moment. Shame.

Kayleigh cocked her head to the side. “You weren’t involved in the production. But you found the bomb. You didn’t know who had built it, and you didn’t stick around long to find out.” His eyes widened. Surprise. “But when you came back, the people who built the bomb were there. Weren’t they?”

He nodded. “I came back for the car I had seen in the back of the warehouse. When I arrived there were five men, all of their faces covered, I did not see them. They saw me, knocked me out and when I woke up, there were feds all over the place asking me where the bomb had gone.”

His voice had remained constant. He broke eye contact twice to remember details that were fuzzy, but had ended holding her eyes. He was telling the truth.

“Thank you, Mr. Sattiotori, a few more questions.” She smiled, putting him at ease. “Did you hear anything while you were in the warehouse? Names, places, times? Anything that would help us find this bomb? I know you don’t want to go up in flames, none of us do.”

Lip shrug. He knew, but wasn’t telling.

“Mr. Sattiotori, this can all be quite easy if you would just tell me what you know. I know you’re hiding it. I can see it in your face.”

“Wednesday. They said something about Wednesday and that now the people of New York would finally understand their power. They could destroy their lives and not bat an eye. There, I’ve told you everything I know. Can I go? You have no reason to hold me here.”

Tyson looked at Kayleigh, who nodded. “You may go,” he said.

Sattiotori stood, leaving the room just as the curly-haired woman opened the door.

“Tyson,” her voice was tense. “Boss wants to see you. He sounded... upset.”

Tyson’s hand went to his brow, rubbing his temples. “Thank you Zooey. Tell him I’ll be right there.”

Zooey nodded, her eyes drifting to Kayleigh and narrowing before she left the room.

“I hope he was telling the truth. For both of our sakes. We just let our only suspect walk out the door.” Tyson said, standing and leaving the room.

Short Story...

I know I haven't posted anything lately, and I apologize for that. I'll try and get some more Perfect Strangers up soon, but for now, please accept the beginning of my new little short story inspired by the most intense dream I've ever had, minus my nightmares... It doesn't have a title yet, so if any of you think of something, let me know!


The sun blazed overhead making the road something of a mirage in front of the car. The haze made the black asphalt ooze and melt in zig-zags in the distance before dropping out of sight completely. The radio was on in the car, playing the only station she could pick up, a thin sheen of sweat coated her forehead. She cursed the beater of a car she drove, but instantly forgave it for being a piece of junk, stroking the steering wheel fondly.
Kayleigh had the money to get a new car, but she couldn’t bring herself to part from the lunker her father had driven for what must have been his entire life, and now Kayleigh was determined to run it into the ground when it died. That’s how her father would have wanted it. They had brought it over seas with them when they moved from England for her father’s job. She never knew what he did, he wasn’t allowed to give her any specific details, but she knew what his job title was. MI-6 liason and Deception Specialist for the Federal Bureau of Investigation. When he was killed the week before Kayleigh’s seventeenth birthday she swore she would continue his legacy. He had always taught her what he knew, and she flew through her schooling, quickly ranking at the top of her class.

Finding work, however, was a new challenge.

Eventually she  landed herself a menial job as a cop for the Las Vegas police. She hated her job. Everything her father had taught her had been very valuable to her, and enabled her to put some of Vegas’ most wanted criminals behind bars all before she was twenty-two. The precinct was impressed by her skill, and as such, everyone wanted her on their squad, but as the director wanted, she became more of a floater, moving from case to case as her skills were required. Sure, this allowed her to dip her toes in every pool, seeing what she was best at, but it wasn’t fulfilling to her. She wanted more. She wanted to be just like her father.

Rolling into the parking garage for her apartment complex brought immediate relief from the heat outside. Despite that fact that it was nearly sundown, the temperature was still well above eighty degrees. She made her way to the elevator, stripping her blazer off of her, the material from the lining sticking to her skin as she peeled it off. When she stepped off the elevator, she was in nothing but her bra and jeans. Her door was directly across the hall; it took her two steps to reach the door, keys outstretched, when someone called her name.

“Kayleigh Cox?” the voice asked, deep and official sounding.

She looked over her left shoulder to where the voice had spoken. There was a man in a crisp black suit leaning against the wall by the elevator. His posture was rigid despite the casual pose he had adopted, his arms locked over his chest, head erect. She couldn’t see his eyes because of the dark Ray-Bans he wore, but she didn’t need to see his eyes to read him. His mouth was drawn into a thin line, lips pressed together tightly. The corner of his mouth twitched upward, his nose crinkling and brows drawing together for a fraction of a second before relaxing again. Contempt. Why was he showing her contempt?

Raymond Lezario.

This man was probably one of his cronies here to kill her because she had just put him away for life.

Her hand moved slowly to the gun at her hip.

“Are you Kayleigh Cox, Las Vegas PD?” he asked, his mouth hardly opening to speak the words.

She debated answering him, watching his face. Another flash of contempt and rising annoyance. “And you are?” she asked, her accent catching him off guard.

“Agent Brown, FBI,” he replied, relaxing only in the slightest. “I need to speak with you.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Please, come in,” she said, despite the fact that she had yet to enter her home herself.

When they entered, she invited him to sit while she went to her room to throw on a t-shirt. She knew that she was taking a risk. She hadn’t asked the man for any identification, but when he had stated his name there were no signs that he was lying. When she returned he had removed his glasses and was staring intensely at her wall. She rolled her eyes; to anyone that didn’t know her occupation, she would come off as a serial killer. Her entire wall was covered in photos of faces of various people, people she knew, famous people, political figures, and random people caught on servelance photos. She had circled things in the photos, indicated their poster, facial expressions, and in each photo, determined if there was deception.

She cleared her throat. “You needed to speak with me, Agent Brown?” she asked, sitting on the sofa directly across from him.

Tearing his eyes away from the wall she couldn’t help but notice the slight fear in his eyes. “Yes, I’m here because the Bureau is in need of your skills.” he said, and her face lit up, which she quickly concealed. “We lost a great asset when your father was killed four years ago, and we’ve been watching you closely. You’re just as good as him, and we need your help on an especially puzzling case.”

“I’m listening,”

“Ever since Nine-Eleven there have been so many bomb threats and attempts we can’t keep up with them. But this particular case is different. We have the culprit, but don’t know where the bomb is. At this point time is of the essence. It’s been twenty-four hours since we apprehended him, and we have been running in circles. We need you to figure out where the bomb is before it’s too late.”