[Original: Drabble] "Upon My Chamber Door" [Zeke Jones, G]
Title: Upon My Chamber Door
Prompt: writerverse challenge #39 amnesty round/challenge #09 random book page
Book and Line Used: William Shakespeare’s Star Wars: “This door is lock’d”
Word Count: 728
Rating: G
Original/Fandom: original ( Zeke Jones ‘verse)
Summary: Zeke and Howell investigate an old house and find a new friend.
Note(s): originally posted to the writerverse wv_library
Upon My Chamber Door
I had never been afraid of the dark, even before I had become a vampire. Usually, I loved dark, quiet, enclosed spaces and unoccupied buildings.
But this place was giving me the creeps.
“Are you sure that Dispatch meant this house?” I asked. “And not one of the nice, well-kept ones across the street?”
My partner scowled at me. “Keep looking, Jones. We’re not going to clear this place until we search everywhere.”
I sighed and started toward the left, making sure to keep Howell in my sight.
It must have been a nice house once, a hundred years ago when Howell was my age. There were bits of carved wood trimmings still in places, swatches of yellowed wallpaper, broken pieces of furniture. It looked like it had been abandoned decades ago, but the eviction notice tacked to the front door had only been a few weeks old.
“You want me to check for hidden passageways, too?” I asked. “I bet I can get my school chums to help.”
Howell scowled at me again. “The witness reported a human-shaped figure,” he said, ignoring me as usual. “Jones, get the door.”
Howell didn’t actually draw his weapon as I grabbed the door handle, but his hand hovered very close to it. His quick reflexes has saved us more than once, so I didn’t hesitate to throw the door open.
“It’s a closet,” I said. “An empty closet.”
“No hidden passages?” Howell asked, deadpan, and I grinned. Who said he didn’t have a sense of humor?
“I’ll keep looking, sir,” I said.
There were four more doors along the wide hallway. Three opened onto empty rooms, each with equally-empty closets.
The fourth door was locked.
“Now, that’s suspicious,” I said.
“Agreed,” said Howell. “Why would every other door- and window- be unlatched except for this one?”
“Maybe it’s a secret pirate treasure,” I suggested. “Or an illegal human cloning lab. Or-”
“Jones,” my partner growled.
“Or I can pick the lock and we can have a look for ourselves,” I finished smoothly.
Howell scowled questioningly at me, and I shrugged.
“There is honestly no story to that, sir. I was bored one day and taught myself to pick locks. I keep it up because my neighbors keep locking themselves out of their apartments.”
I always had a metal hairpin in my braid, despite not needing it, for just such an occasion, and in less than a minute, I heard the lock clock open. Howell rested his hand on his gun as I pulled the door open.
It was a small room, like a pantry, lined with dusty shelves and old drop-cloths.
“Huh,” I said.
Then, suddenly, what looked like a crumpled old trench-coat gave a lurch toward us. I let out a completely understandable cry of surprise and alarm, and toppled backward into the still-open door. Howell drew his weapon, but from my new position, I could see something he couldn’t.
“Wait, sir, look!”
I grabbed at the floating coat, and it slipped, revealing the shiny feathers of a large bird. It squawked indignantly as its feet twisted in the fabric, and it fell into the tangle on the floor. Howell darted forward to wrap the bird up in the coat. It thrashed, cawing loudly, but he managed to trap its wings in the folds of fabric.
“An ordinary raven,” said Howell, as it continued to struggle.
“I think it can smell the wolf, sir,” I said, and my partner gladly handed it over.
The bird stopped its attempted escape as I held it, looking up at me with big dark eyes.
“Hi, there,” I said. “Don’t worry, little guy, I’ll protect you from the big mean werewolf.”
“Keep a hold of it, Jones,” said Howell. “I’ll call it in. And get them to send Animal Control.”
“They won’t hurt him, will they?” I asked.
Now that the raven was still, I could tell that he only weighed a few pounds, almost as much as my weeks-old kitten.
“They’ll make sure it’s healthy and let it go,” said Howell. “And don’t feed it!”
“Yes, sir.”
The bird nipped at the collar of my police jacket, then at my top pocket, and I shifted him to get a hand free. I figured that a bit of leftover granola bar didn’t really count as feeding. Especially if Howell didn’t find out.
THE END
Current Mood:
nerdy
Prompt: writerverse challenge #39 amnesty round/challenge #09 random book page
Book and Line Used: William Shakespeare’s Star Wars: “This door is lock’d”
Word Count: 728
Rating: G
Original/Fandom: original ( Zeke Jones ‘verse)
Summary: Zeke and Howell investigate an old house and find a new friend.
Note(s): originally posted to the writerverse wv_library
Upon My Chamber Door
I had never been afraid of the dark, even before I had become a vampire. Usually, I loved dark, quiet, enclosed spaces and unoccupied buildings.
But this place was giving me the creeps.
“Are you sure that Dispatch meant this house?” I asked. “And not one of the nice, well-kept ones across the street?”
My partner scowled at me. “Keep looking, Jones. We’re not going to clear this place until we search everywhere.”
I sighed and started toward the left, making sure to keep Howell in my sight.
It must have been a nice house once, a hundred years ago when Howell was my age. There were bits of carved wood trimmings still in places, swatches of yellowed wallpaper, broken pieces of furniture. It looked like it had been abandoned decades ago, but the eviction notice tacked to the front door had only been a few weeks old.
“You want me to check for hidden passageways, too?” I asked. “I bet I can get my school chums to help.”
Howell scowled at me again. “The witness reported a human-shaped figure,” he said, ignoring me as usual. “Jones, get the door.”
Howell didn’t actually draw his weapon as I grabbed the door handle, but his hand hovered very close to it. His quick reflexes has saved us more than once, so I didn’t hesitate to throw the door open.
“It’s a closet,” I said. “An empty closet.”
“No hidden passages?” Howell asked, deadpan, and I grinned. Who said he didn’t have a sense of humor?
“I’ll keep looking, sir,” I said.
There were four more doors along the wide hallway. Three opened onto empty rooms, each with equally-empty closets.
The fourth door was locked.
“Now, that’s suspicious,” I said.
“Agreed,” said Howell. “Why would every other door- and window- be unlatched except for this one?”
“Maybe it’s a secret pirate treasure,” I suggested. “Or an illegal human cloning lab. Or-”
“Jones,” my partner growled.
“Or I can pick the lock and we can have a look for ourselves,” I finished smoothly.
Howell scowled questioningly at me, and I shrugged.
“There is honestly no story to that, sir. I was bored one day and taught myself to pick locks. I keep it up because my neighbors keep locking themselves out of their apartments.”
I always had a metal hairpin in my braid, despite not needing it, for just such an occasion, and in less than a minute, I heard the lock clock open. Howell rested his hand on his gun as I pulled the door open.
It was a small room, like a pantry, lined with dusty shelves and old drop-cloths.
“Huh,” I said.
Then, suddenly, what looked like a crumpled old trench-coat gave a lurch toward us. I let out a completely understandable cry of surprise and alarm, and toppled backward into the still-open door. Howell drew his weapon, but from my new position, I could see something he couldn’t.
“Wait, sir, look!”
I grabbed at the floating coat, and it slipped, revealing the shiny feathers of a large bird. It squawked indignantly as its feet twisted in the fabric, and it fell into the tangle on the floor. Howell darted forward to wrap the bird up in the coat. It thrashed, cawing loudly, but he managed to trap its wings in the folds of fabric.
“An ordinary raven,” said Howell, as it continued to struggle.
“I think it can smell the wolf, sir,” I said, and my partner gladly handed it over.
The bird stopped its attempted escape as I held it, looking up at me with big dark eyes.
“Hi, there,” I said. “Don’t worry, little guy, I’ll protect you from the big mean werewolf.”
“Keep a hold of it, Jones,” said Howell. “I’ll call it in. And get them to send Animal Control.”
“They won’t hurt him, will they?” I asked.
Now that the raven was still, I could tell that he only weighed a few pounds, almost as much as my weeks-old kitten.
“They’ll make sure it’s healthy and let it go,” said Howell. “And don’t feed it!”
“Yes, sir.”
The bird nipped at the collar of my police jacket, then at my top pocket, and I shifted him to get a hand free. I figured that a bit of leftover granola bar didn’t really count as feeding. Especially if Howell didn’t find out.
THE END
Current Mood:
nerdy