(no subject)
So here is the latest on my NANOWRIMO novel. It's puttering along at just over 2,000 words.
Chapter 1
d
The night was chilly with the first hint of fall creeping in the crisp air. The hair on the back of my neck prickled, not from chill, but from the presence I could feel skulking behind me. A female walking alone at night was always a beacon for trouble even in a small college town in Pennsylvania. My name is Mary, and I am not a mother, nor a virgin, but I am a saint. I believe it is safe to say that the term has lost its true meaning over the years. I have been bestowed a gift from God, a sacred quest to help people. Right now, though, all I wanted was a rum and coke; God could kiss my ass, he didn’t have an English paper to finish and a mother with unlimited minutes.
The presence was finally making his move closer to me so I slowed my pace to stay between lampposts. Men like him dwelled in the shadows it was where they felt safest. Suddenly there was a hand over my mouth and I saw the metal from the knife shine in the darkness. I was dragged into the bushes a few feet off of the path, his hands groping, moving everywhere on my body. I covered his hand with mine and I let the fire seep onto my eyes. I looked at the man trying to rape me, just like he had done before, like he planned to do again. I caught his gaze in mine and I imparted on him the pain that he had caused every victim. I watched him be consumed in the guilt, the mind numbing terror, the burning of a sharp blade across flesh. He fell to his knees, tears sliding down his face; he began a mantra of “oh God, what have I done?”
I slipped the knife out of his hand and dropped to my knees in front of him.
“Are you sorry now, Adam? How does it feel to be left with nothing but fear? You should go now, Adam, go and tell the police what you did. Maybe they will show you some mercy, maybe God can forgive you.”
I stood and brushed at the dirt on my knees, slipping the blade into my pocket. I zipped up my leather jacket to fight the wind that had found its way down my neck. I lit a cigarette as I walked, thick boots assaulting the ground. My cell phone shrilled as I neared my car, a 1998 Pontiac Grand Am, only one person would call at 5 a.m. on a Sunday morning while the rest of the world was sleeping.
“Good morning, mother.” I answered glancing at the caller ID as a flipped the device open.
“Good morning, Mary, I don’t suppose you are up this early getting ready for church, are you dear? I just know how much you love sunrise services.” Her voice dripped with disapproval
“Actually mom, the orgy ended early last night but the ritual animal slaughter ran a bit over and I’m just now on my way home.” I filled my voice with as much 13-year-old smart-ass sarcasm as I could. “Do you think soda water will take the stain out of vinyl pants?”
“I don’t see why you insist on instigating me when all I want is what’s best for you! Dinner is at 6, don’t be late, and it’s your grandmother’s birthday it would be nice if you picked up a card.”
The line was suddenly silenced and I sighed as I started my car. There was a leaf sticking out of my ponytail and my pale face was smudged with dirt. My green eyes were heavy lidded after another night with no sleep. I pulled the leaf out of my blood red hair and angrily wiped a sleeve across the spot on my jaw. I turned up the A/C to full blast and cranked up the music to keep me awake. I drove home in the darkness, going way too fast for the curves and narrow roads.
I walked the stairs to my apartment, shuffling as quiet as I could but sleep was pulling at me. I unlocked the dead bolt and stepped into the living room darkened by heavy curtains. I dropped my bag on the couch and slipped off my shoes by the door neglecting to untie them. I padded to the kitchen and poured myself a glass of juice. I went for the bedroom and I started the water in the master bathroom. While the water heated up I stripped off my clothes and threw them in the laundry basket in the corner of my bedroom. I stepped into the hot spray and let the water soak my hair that reached just past my shoulders. The warm water made my limbs feel even heavier and it seemed like it took an eternity to wash and get out. I stared at my reflection in the fogged up mirror my face was a plane of sharp angles, high cheekbones, and hawk-like features. I ran a towel over my head and body then hung it on the rack on the back of the door. I turned off the light as I stepped into my darkened bedroom. I pulled down the covers, set the alarm for three in the afternoon, and snuggled into bed.
* * *
I jerked awake at the insistent buzzing of my alarm clock; its sudden shrill sound in the quiet darkness of my bedroom was enough to set my heart pounding and my mind racing. I groaned, while throwing back the covers, I padded softly to the kitchen to fix some coffee. That wonderful brew percolated and began to smell really amazing as I brushed my teeth and got dressed. I have never been one that felt the need to impress anyone so my wardrobe generally consisted of soft cotton tees and jeans. I pulled out a black t-shirt that was tight against my small frame, making my breasts look larger than they actually were. I pulled a worn pair of Levi’s that had several holes in the legs and a few paint stains. I made a last ditch effort to dig at the under-wire that was poking at me but gave it up as the point of a bra is to be uncomfortable. I pulled on the first two socks that I could find that were basically the same height. I could smell the coffee on this side of the apartment; I could almost taste the caffeinated goodness already. I had one of those nifty coffee makers that were designed for bitter spinsters for me but labeled for “people who were on the go.” They coffee already sat in a to-go cup with enough room for cream and sugar to be added. The sweet concoction was a light brown by the time I got through with it so I snapped on the lid, grabbed my keys and cell phone, and finally headed out the door.
It was 4:30 when I finally exited the convenience store with a card for my grandmother, a bottle of red wine so my mother and I could stand one another, and a pack of Camel Turkish Silver. I was only 5 minutes late when I stepped into the doorway and was assaulted with a combination of dirty looks and the smell of garlic. I draped my coat over the first available doorknob, slipped off my shoes, and headed into the kitchen where my mother was filling plates with heaping piles of pasta.
“You’re late again,” my mother stated in her best Donna Reed impression. I think she could say I love you and I hope you burn in Hell with the same inflection.
“Traffic,” I replied while started pulling the cork out of my wine bottle. “I brought lambrusco, your favorite.” She handed me two glasses without a word but I could tell by the stoop of her shoulders that she had given up for the night. Her dyed dark hair was teased within an inch of its life and sat rigid on top of her head. She gave me a plate and I trooped into the dining room with my glass in the other hand and the bottle nestled securely under my arm.
I fixed my eyes to my plate and began to shovel in the food as fast as possible without choking myself. I keep a steady stream of shoulder shrugs and head nods to let people think that I was paying attention to the conversation around me. I sipped the red wine with trembling hands; my mother kicked me under the table and glared at me. She has that look on her face that I think all mothers acquire over teenage years. The face that says, I know what you are doing, you aren’t fooling me, and by the way you are going to hell. I was saved by the tolling of the bell. Thank God, I thought as I flipped open my cell phone, the caller ID revealed it to be Andella, call me Andie.
“Hey, what’s up? I asked as I slid out of my seat, out the front door, and dropped unceremoniously into a rocking chair.
“Les and I are at Levi’s Pocket and we think you need to come have a brew with us.”
“Absolutely, I will be there in half an hour.”
“Later then,” Andie stated and hung up.
I sat there for a moment trying to decide what I was going to tell my mother that wouldn’t send her into a hormone-induced rant. I decided that I was screwed either way, trooped back inside, finished the last bit of food and slipped into the kitchen to put my dishes in the sink.
“Where do you think you are going?” My mother loomed in the doorway, blocking my path to my coat and the exit out.
“You know the drill mom, sacred duty, yada, yada, divine providence, trust in the force.”
My mother rolled her eyes and thrust a blackberry pie in my hands before stalking off. I slipped on my leather jacket and was out the door before the dog could attempt to hump my leg again. Jenny, My little sister, gave me the finger through the window as I crossed the yard. I rocketed out of the drive-way as fast as I could and began making my way into the downtown area near the college.
* * *
He watched her as she danced, her hips swaying in time with the music, or maybe the rhythm was following her? He couldn’t tell but he felt dizzy and his heart raced when she looked in his direction. James smiled slowly and tipped his bottle in her direction. She gracefully eluded the men surrounding her on the floor and made her way to the dark crevice that he was occupying.
“What’s your name, sweetheart?” he asked her, leaning close and talking into her ear.
“Angel” she replied moving in as close as she could without touching him.
“Are you here to rescue me, Angel?” he cooed teasingly.
“I’m here for more than that,” she smirked.
Chapter 2
Detective Deacon Noell walked under the yellow police line the patrolman was lifting for him. He slipped on a pair of latex gloves as he moved to where the crowd had gathered. The flash from the camera led him past the kitchenette and into the tiny bedroom. The walls were stark white like every other low rent apartment building He had ever seen. The only thing he noticed as he moved closer to the lump under the sheet was the absence of blood. One of the techs pulled down the sheet and Deacon got his first look at the unidentifiable lump that remained unknown even in plain sight.
He stood there staring trying to make sense of what his eyes were showing him but he had never seen a corpse so desiccated that was not already in the ground. The skin was cracked and brown, the muscles pulled tight across brittle bones, the nose, ears, and anything resembling flesh was just gone.
He carefully began looking over the body for signs of what had happened to the poor bastard. There were no skull fractures any clue of how this man had died. He knew that the subject was male by the shirts, ties, and boxers thrown into a corner in a hasty attempt to tidy up.
“A body lying here for this long should have started smelling by now,” Deacon said aloud to no one in particular.
“I don’t think it’s been here very long,” one of the uniforms piped up as he folded and placed the sheet in a paper bag.
“Why do you think that?” Deacon asked the woman who was obviously fresh out of the academy.
“First of all we found semen stains on the sheets and an ATM receipt in these pants from three days ago,” The patrolman tossed a clear evidence bag to the detective.
Chapter 1
d
The night was chilly with the first hint of fall creeping in the crisp air. The hair on the back of my neck prickled, not from chill, but from the presence I could feel skulking behind me. A female walking alone at night was always a beacon for trouble even in a small college town in Pennsylvania. My name is Mary, and I am not a mother, nor a virgin, but I am a saint. I believe it is safe to say that the term has lost its true meaning over the years. I have been bestowed a gift from God, a sacred quest to help people. Right now, though, all I wanted was a rum and coke; God could kiss my ass, he didn’t have an English paper to finish and a mother with unlimited minutes.
The presence was finally making his move closer to me so I slowed my pace to stay between lampposts. Men like him dwelled in the shadows it was where they felt safest. Suddenly there was a hand over my mouth and I saw the metal from the knife shine in the darkness. I was dragged into the bushes a few feet off of the path, his hands groping, moving everywhere on my body. I covered his hand with mine and I let the fire seep onto my eyes. I looked at the man trying to rape me, just like he had done before, like he planned to do again. I caught his gaze in mine and I imparted on him the pain that he had caused every victim. I watched him be consumed in the guilt, the mind numbing terror, the burning of a sharp blade across flesh. He fell to his knees, tears sliding down his face; he began a mantra of “oh God, what have I done?”
I slipped the knife out of his hand and dropped to my knees in front of him.
“Are you sorry now, Adam? How does it feel to be left with nothing but fear? You should go now, Adam, go and tell the police what you did. Maybe they will show you some mercy, maybe God can forgive you.”
I stood and brushed at the dirt on my knees, slipping the blade into my pocket. I zipped up my leather jacket to fight the wind that had found its way down my neck. I lit a cigarette as I walked, thick boots assaulting the ground. My cell phone shrilled as I neared my car, a 1998 Pontiac Grand Am, only one person would call at 5 a.m. on a Sunday morning while the rest of the world was sleeping.
“Good morning, mother.” I answered glancing at the caller ID as a flipped the device open.
“Good morning, Mary, I don’t suppose you are up this early getting ready for church, are you dear? I just know how much you love sunrise services.” Her voice dripped with disapproval
“Actually mom, the orgy ended early last night but the ritual animal slaughter ran a bit over and I’m just now on my way home.” I filled my voice with as much 13-year-old smart-ass sarcasm as I could. “Do you think soda water will take the stain out of vinyl pants?”
“I don’t see why you insist on instigating me when all I want is what’s best for you! Dinner is at 6, don’t be late, and it’s your grandmother’s birthday it would be nice if you picked up a card.”
The line was suddenly silenced and I sighed as I started my car. There was a leaf sticking out of my ponytail and my pale face was smudged with dirt. My green eyes were heavy lidded after another night with no sleep. I pulled the leaf out of my blood red hair and angrily wiped a sleeve across the spot on my jaw. I turned up the A/C to full blast and cranked up the music to keep me awake. I drove home in the darkness, going way too fast for the curves and narrow roads.
I walked the stairs to my apartment, shuffling as quiet as I could but sleep was pulling at me. I unlocked the dead bolt and stepped into the living room darkened by heavy curtains. I dropped my bag on the couch and slipped off my shoes by the door neglecting to untie them. I padded to the kitchen and poured myself a glass of juice. I went for the bedroom and I started the water in the master bathroom. While the water heated up I stripped off my clothes and threw them in the laundry basket in the corner of my bedroom. I stepped into the hot spray and let the water soak my hair that reached just past my shoulders. The warm water made my limbs feel even heavier and it seemed like it took an eternity to wash and get out. I stared at my reflection in the fogged up mirror my face was a plane of sharp angles, high cheekbones, and hawk-like features. I ran a towel over my head and body then hung it on the rack on the back of the door. I turned off the light as I stepped into my darkened bedroom. I pulled down the covers, set the alarm for three in the afternoon, and snuggled into bed.
* * *
I jerked awake at the insistent buzzing of my alarm clock; its sudden shrill sound in the quiet darkness of my bedroom was enough to set my heart pounding and my mind racing. I groaned, while throwing back the covers, I padded softly to the kitchen to fix some coffee. That wonderful brew percolated and began to smell really amazing as I brushed my teeth and got dressed. I have never been one that felt the need to impress anyone so my wardrobe generally consisted of soft cotton tees and jeans. I pulled out a black t-shirt that was tight against my small frame, making my breasts look larger than they actually were. I pulled a worn pair of Levi’s that had several holes in the legs and a few paint stains. I made a last ditch effort to dig at the under-wire that was poking at me but gave it up as the point of a bra is to be uncomfortable. I pulled on the first two socks that I could find that were basically the same height. I could smell the coffee on this side of the apartment; I could almost taste the caffeinated goodness already. I had one of those nifty coffee makers that were designed for bitter spinsters for me but labeled for “people who were on the go.” They coffee already sat in a to-go cup with enough room for cream and sugar to be added. The sweet concoction was a light brown by the time I got through with it so I snapped on the lid, grabbed my keys and cell phone, and finally headed out the door.
It was 4:30 when I finally exited the convenience store with a card for my grandmother, a bottle of red wine so my mother and I could stand one another, and a pack of Camel Turkish Silver. I was only 5 minutes late when I stepped into the doorway and was assaulted with a combination of dirty looks and the smell of garlic. I draped my coat over the first available doorknob, slipped off my shoes, and headed into the kitchen where my mother was filling plates with heaping piles of pasta.
“You’re late again,” my mother stated in her best Donna Reed impression. I think she could say I love you and I hope you burn in Hell with the same inflection.
“Traffic,” I replied while started pulling the cork out of my wine bottle. “I brought lambrusco, your favorite.” She handed me two glasses without a word but I could tell by the stoop of her shoulders that she had given up for the night. Her dyed dark hair was teased within an inch of its life and sat rigid on top of her head. She gave me a plate and I trooped into the dining room with my glass in the other hand and the bottle nestled securely under my arm.
I fixed my eyes to my plate and began to shovel in the food as fast as possible without choking myself. I keep a steady stream of shoulder shrugs and head nods to let people think that I was paying attention to the conversation around me. I sipped the red wine with trembling hands; my mother kicked me under the table and glared at me. She has that look on her face that I think all mothers acquire over teenage years. The face that says, I know what you are doing, you aren’t fooling me, and by the way you are going to hell. I was saved by the tolling of the bell. Thank God, I thought as I flipped open my cell phone, the caller ID revealed it to be Andella, call me Andie.
“Hey, what’s up? I asked as I slid out of my seat, out the front door, and dropped unceremoniously into a rocking chair.
“Les and I are at Levi’s Pocket and we think you need to come have a brew with us.”
“Absolutely, I will be there in half an hour.”
“Later then,” Andie stated and hung up.
I sat there for a moment trying to decide what I was going to tell my mother that wouldn’t send her into a hormone-induced rant. I decided that I was screwed either way, trooped back inside, finished the last bit of food and slipped into the kitchen to put my dishes in the sink.
“Where do you think you are going?” My mother loomed in the doorway, blocking my path to my coat and the exit out.
“You know the drill mom, sacred duty, yada, yada, divine providence, trust in the force.”
My mother rolled her eyes and thrust a blackberry pie in my hands before stalking off. I slipped on my leather jacket and was out the door before the dog could attempt to hump my leg again. Jenny, My little sister, gave me the finger through the window as I crossed the yard. I rocketed out of the drive-way as fast as I could and began making my way into the downtown area near the college.
* * *
He watched her as she danced, her hips swaying in time with the music, or maybe the rhythm was following her? He couldn’t tell but he felt dizzy and his heart raced when she looked in his direction. James smiled slowly and tipped his bottle in her direction. She gracefully eluded the men surrounding her on the floor and made her way to the dark crevice that he was occupying.
“What’s your name, sweetheart?” he asked her, leaning close and talking into her ear.
“Angel” she replied moving in as close as she could without touching him.
“Are you here to rescue me, Angel?” he cooed teasingly.
“I’m here for more than that,” she smirked.
Chapter 2
Detective Deacon Noell walked under the yellow police line the patrolman was lifting for him. He slipped on a pair of latex gloves as he moved to where the crowd had gathered. The flash from the camera led him past the kitchenette and into the tiny bedroom. The walls were stark white like every other low rent apartment building He had ever seen. The only thing he noticed as he moved closer to the lump under the sheet was the absence of blood. One of the techs pulled down the sheet and Deacon got his first look at the unidentifiable lump that remained unknown even in plain sight.
He stood there staring trying to make sense of what his eyes were showing him but he had never seen a corpse so desiccated that was not already in the ground. The skin was cracked and brown, the muscles pulled tight across brittle bones, the nose, ears, and anything resembling flesh was just gone.
He carefully began looking over the body for signs of what had happened to the poor bastard. There were no skull fractures any clue of how this man had died. He knew that the subject was male by the shirts, ties, and boxers thrown into a corner in a hasty attempt to tidy up.
“A body lying here for this long should have started smelling by now,” Deacon said aloud to no one in particular.
“I don’t think it’s been here very long,” one of the uniforms piped up as he folded and placed the sheet in a paper bag.
“Why do you think that?” Deacon asked the woman who was obviously fresh out of the academy.
“First of all we found semen stains on the sheets and an ATM receipt in these pants from three days ago,” The patrolman tossed a clear evidence bag to the detective.