Jam Project challenge
Title: Baptism in dragon's blood
Word: impartiality
Baptism in dragon's blood
The message came through, blinking on the messenger window, begging for his attention.
“It’s been long,” it said. “I have been waiting long for you to contact me.”
Smiling, Heath watched it with an amused eye, letting the moment soak in before he lifted himself to type in the reply, to type in the words that the sender had been waiting for.
“I thought a bit of suspense would help the drama unfold,” he typed. “Why not enjoy the moment because the end just finishes all too fast?”
“I DON’T HAVE TIME FOR THIS, YOU BASTARD!” I came in capital letters, all of it, as if the sender was trying to convey his anger, his frustration, his incompetence. “WHERE IS MY WIFE!”
“Let’s not rush this, for it would just make it all too boring.” He paused, imagining the screaming and yelling that must be occurring on the other side of the web. “Too trite, as they say.”
It took a bit before he replied, it took a bit longer than Heath liked.
“I have your money.” The reply read. “It is all set up and stuffed in the correct amounts in the ten bags you described in your ransom.
“It is all according to your instructions.”
Drinking his martini in the afternoon, celebration in the best form possible, Heath had to stop himself from laughing when the sender asked “Please let my wife go.
“Please let my Mariam go.
“She’s all that I have.”
Typing calmly, impartiality smiling, Heath calmly typed in “She’s safe, and she’ll be let go as soon as I get my money.”
Closing the window, cutting the connection, the screen was cleared.
That is, until the email alert arrived.
Taking another sip of his glass, he smiled knowingly as he opened the email.
“I’m back here at the hotel,” the email read. “I’m all wet and naked and all ready to be taken in by you. I can’t wait to leave all of this boredom behind and travel the world with you.
XOXO,
Mariam.”
Laughing, Heath started the reply, typing:
“You wouldn’t believe the things your husband typed.”
Title: Tomorrow, or die trying
word: sanitary
Tomorrow, or die trying
Staring out the window, his eyes darting left and right, as fast as he could, as slow as he wished he wasn’t, he tried finding the sniper, the killer, the one who had already taken some shots at him beforehand.
The phone rang, the text message got through, teasing, saying “I see you, little piggy”.
Texting, “she can only live so long without air inside the trunk”.
Laughing, probably, that “the smoke will probably kill her if you don’t help her save herself from the trap.
“If you don’t save her from getting killed by me.”
Letting out a long, deep breath, Raiz raised his gun and peeked out the corner of his hideout again, moving from the window to the little peek hole above the entrance door, before running back to the window again.
He couldn’t see any reflective surfaces from the sniper’s glass, no people peeking out from the buildings and cars and junk lying around in front of the house.
Gasping out in surprise, the text came again.
“You don’t have any more time, Raiz.
“You can’t save her if you just hide inside the whole time.
“It is sanitary to just not touch anything, to just let her die, to not have any connections at all.
“But really, can you really let it go like that?
“Can you really be at peace to know that an innocent life has been erased from Earth because of you?
“Because you were just too chicken to come on out and just face me?”
Looking out, but finding nothing, Raiz grunted in frustration and closed his eyes, hoping it could all go away, wishing that he hadn’t gotten involved with everything in the first place.
But it was too late, it had already happened, nothing could change the fact.
“I am waiting.” Was the final message, the final call.
He reached for the door knob and twisted open the door.
title: serenading in the moonlight
word: ukulele
serenading in the moonlight
Playing his electric guitar, the pick barely held well in his hands, he stroke the strings in fast repetition, one after another, the noises amounting to nothing more than annoyance.
Breathing hard, more from his mental stress than the one caused by his guitar playing, he wished he had an ukulele, for at least it wouldn’t sound so hurtful, so depressed.
His leg resting on the window sill, the moonlight seeping in from the streets, he looked out at it, unsure what to say, what to think, what to anything.
In the silence of it all, his pick unconsciously played another string, another song.
Picking a few strings, here and there, the song somewhere hidden in the tunes, he sang “Sooner or later, alligator, I’ll go, and find a reason.
“For us to change our minds and figure out, a way to go on, and…”
And just like that, the strings stopped.
Looking out in silence, holding the guitar in silence, he tried to absorb the moment into something that he wished it was.
Taking out his cell phone, staring at it, he had a notion somewhere that maybe he could call, that maybe…
Just maybe…
Just abruptly as the idea came, he left it, flinging it across the room, away, far away from him.
Picking his strings again, he began, he sang.
“Sooner or later, alligator, I’ll go, and find a reason…”
title: Too soon to cry
word: seppuku
Too soon to cry
Dear Anna,
By the time you read this letter, I hope I’m already gone, I’m already away and not existing around to block your way to a better future, a much, much brighter future.
I’m sorry for all the pain and regrets I’ve caused you to have in these later days, I’m sorry that I’ve not been as great of a boyfriend as I could have been.
The truth is, Anna, I do love you with all of my heart, I do love you with more than I could ever have shown, more than any of the words I could have given you.
I was not a bright man, as you know in your heart, and I’ve done many mistakes that ended up in the way we are now, hurting you, disappointing you in ways that nobody could have in a million, billion years.
I know that even seppuku won’t cause me enough pain to justify for the one that I’ve caused on you, I know that nothing I could ever do could ever hurt me as much as it will ever hurt you, because what I’ve done seems like it will remain with you, forever.
But I don’t want that, I want you to forget it all and lead a better life, because that is something that I’ve always wanted to do for you, that’s always something that I’ve always wished upon you.
When you read this letter, I hope you can forgive me for all of my sins.
When you read this letter, I hope you can live a much happier life.
Love, forever,
Trevor.
Title: No reason to leave
word: hysterical
No reason to leave
Huddled in the corner of the room, in the dark, only a spilled over lamp shone its light through the darkness, enough for Lece to see himself, enough to keep Lece away from the darkness.
Someone screamed out in the darkness, outside his door, outside the little crack that he peeked into the outside hallway. It went on and on, as if taunting him, as if trying all they can to keep him in there. Different sounds, different screams, different voices that babble on, ignoring him, moving on from left to right, past the door, past him.
He might just be hysterical, he might just be insane, yet the voices went on, on and on.
He tried peeking out, out of desperation, out of fear, and he saw a light, like a flashlight, a beam going back and forth, up and down, as if searching for something, as if looking for someone.
He almost screamed when the figure passed by.
The figure stopped, as if hearing Lece’s thoughts, his almost scream.
Unable to move, unable to do anything, Lece remained in his fearful stance, his hands over his mouth, his eyes wide and unable to look away.
The figure looked at the crack and directly at him.
The figure’s eyes and nose were blocked by a band of a sort, some kind of bandana that kept his identity from being seen.
Lece couldn’t help himself from gasping when the figure’s lips parted, when the figure’s teeth showed in a crooked smile.
The darkness arrived way before he could even scream.