Monday, November 23, 2015

Writing, sharing excerpts, next?


Panicked screams and cries wafted into the night.
I checked my watch. An eerie silence fell as the commuters descended to the safety of the platform below.
We waited. Every few minutes, more bullets fired in our direction.
“What do you suppose Arnie meant by Rob?” I wondered aloud.
“Know any Robs?” Kurt asked leaning next to me.
“Not that I can think of. Rob. He’s never mentioned anyone called Rob. What was he trying to tell me? Rob. Robert. Robbie. Robber. Nope, coming up blank.”
“We’ll grab his cell phone when we can, might be a Rob in that somewhere.”
I nodded. “Worth a look.”
Rotor blades thwacked the air outside. A bright light illuminated the interior of the building we were in. Gunfire erupted. Semi-automatic. Rifle shots. More semi-automatic fire. Booted feet ran, dark shapes headed toward us down the walkway, flashlights almost blinded me. Familiar voices and sounds brought a level of comfort and security that few outsiders understood. Men in tactical gear equal safety in my world.
“Conway!” Andrews called.
“Down here,” I yelled back.
Feet pounded the concrete floor, double time.

“You good?” Andrews asked, coming to a stop in front of us. Men on either side of him scanned the area for potential trouble.

And a little something from psychobyte:

I hung up. Kurt had taken up position in the chair by my desk again. He watched me as I emailed Josh all the details pertaining to Sarah Ng. I felt his unspoken words and looked at him. “Serena Sorenson was known to a few of the officers down in Fairfax PD.”
I didn’t have to say anymore because he knew we could be looking for a cop. A cop would know how to clean a crime scene but then so would a paramedic.
“We’ll be working late tonight then?”
“Yep. Josh is sending me a list.” Four emails arrived in quick succession. One was the list from Josh. I opened it and scanned the names. “I have fifteen names in front of me. We’ll divide the list up and get to it.”
“You want Sam and Lee?”
“No.” I glanced at the clock on the wall. Time ticked onward. Evening loomed. “I’d like them to go back to both crime scenes and try to get more information from neighbors. Someone saw something.”
“Okay. And Collins?”
“Make sure he’s okay, ask him if he knows Cliff White and see if there is anything he can tell us about Serena’s sister.” 
“Her sister?”
“Yeah, she’s dating Cliff White, a paramedic from the four-forty. That’s Collin’s station.”
“Another link.”
I nodded. If only I knew what the link meant. 

And now for something completely different?
Yeah, nah, Metabyte ...

Excerpt (raw, no edits):

Mitch grabbed my arm as I swung the car door open. “Not by yourself.”
“Just let me walk.”
“Babe.” One word so much resignation.
I smiled, and climbed out of the car. “Stay here, please,” I said over my shoulder and flicked the car door shut with my boot. Surveying the darkness that engulfed the parking lot and lead to the hotel I took a deep cleansing breath. My hand sat on the butt of the Glock, just inside my right hip. One fluid movement released the weapon from my holster. Squaring my shoulders, right hand gripping my pistol but hanging by my side, I walked into the darkness. A chirp from my pocket broke the silence wide open. I checked the display on my phone. A message from Kurt. He wanted to know where I was. 
I tapped a reply with my left thumb: Walking across the parking lot toward the Marriott. 
Modern West and Kevin Costner’s Long Hot Night erupted from the phone. I hit answer. Music dropped like frozen stars, melting into the night shrouded blacktop, becoming puddles of liquid silver.
“Conway …”
“Henderson …”
“Stand down and let us handle this situation.”
A small laugh escaped. “You see that being a thing?”
“Probably not, but I had to try.”
“Well you tried, now can we get on with this?”
The darkness swallowed my footsteps increasing the temptation to run. 
“We’ll wait for you.”

So what have I been doing? (Apart from not writing anything more or new, because I just don't have creative space at the moment.)

I just finished putting a collection of short stories together - the last collection of Writer's Plot stories that will ever be. 
It's now formatted for print. Just waiting for everyone to read it and get back to me with whatever I've missed - bound to be a few things. 
Then it's cover design and on with the printing process. 
And a final goodbye to all things A Writer's Plot related.
(That's Writer's Plot the library writing group ...)

Next ... time I had a break, did some reading, Googled some scary shit, and found some inspiration ...
and enjoyed life again.
Speaking of scary shit - friend Margaret leant me a book called "Biohazard" by Ken Alibek ... super  freaking scary. Really enjoying it though ... so much potential for fiction there (if you look past the terrifying aspect of it all). 

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