Picking Up the Pieces-challenge fic-PG-13
Posted: Wed Feb 18, 2009 2:28 am
Picking up the Pieces Title by Bank1115
Starting paragraph by Francis
Rating: PG-13
Standard disclosures apply: No copyright infringement intended.
This is my attempt with a nod towards the Noir genre. The time frame is prior to Maureen being killed in Episode 13, Fated to Pretend. The piece was written for a writing challenge. Italics indicate thoughts, not the spoken word.
She ran out of reasons to stay inside. It was way too early but she couldn’t contain her excitement anymore. Putting a stray strand of hair back into the clasp she pushed the sliding door to the garden open and carefully stepped barefoot over the rough tile of the patio.
Alright I’m here, any chance you’re early too? Her thoughts tumbled out like those untamed strands of hair. She ran her tongue around her mouth. It was a nervous habit developed during her long days as a reporter for the local paper. Pursed lips tasted the sweetness of the alcohol, finished upstairs in her office. She had chugged the last of the whiskey with a grimace. The ice had melted and watered down the drink making it so weak it did little to warm her. Maureen shivered in the damp air. It was raining again and the drops bounced off the surface of the metal tables. She glanced around the enclosure and to the alley beyond. Drizzle covered the asphalt pavement with a slick coating and a cold breeze tore down the passage scattering someone’s trash like brittle leaves in fall.
Maureen waited impatiently for the kid to bring her the photos. She’d used this spot before to meet informants. The trees provided shelter from prying eyes and the patio outside Buzz Wire’s dining area allowed her the security of the building. Only the tipster was late. With the evidence in hand she could get back to the safety of her office and call Beth. Wind was whistling through the branches and the limbs waved back and forth creating an ominous pattern on the stone tile floor. I’m already on edge and this weather isn’t helping at all, she thought. Maureen paced back and forth looking down the street. At the end was a store front church with a blinking neon billboard. The “l” was burnt out and the sign that read “Welcome” now read “We come The End is Near.” Her eyes focused on the words, deciphering the message.
His bicycle skidded to a stop outside the hedge that separated the alley from the eating area. “Sorry I’m late. I had a customer and couldn’t get out of the store,” he said as if Maureen cared what the explanation might be. The boy was young, maybe 16, wearing blue jeans, a shabby tee shirt and a baseball cap shielding a large part of his face. “You’re Mo?” He asked, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of a pouch on his bike.
She nodded, “You see anyone else? And it’s Maureen not Mo.” Young snot, she thought. This is how you dress for work?
“Got the money?” he asked, lighting his cigarette. A stream of smoke blew out in her direction. “You always barefoot? It’s cold out here.” His eyes moving up from her feet and stopping at the neck line of Maureen’s blouse, peaking out from beneath her suit.
“Got the goods?” Maureen mimicked, trying to get the kids eyes to focus on her face. This wasn’t her first exchange and she wouldn’t pay for information that Buzz Wire couldn’t use. So how was I supposed to know how cold it was when I was upstairs? And you wear heels for ten hours; let’s see how quick you kick them off. She thought. He handed the parcel over to her. Maureen rifled through the pages feeling her anticipation building. “How’d you get these?”
“A guy left ‘em off to be developed and didn’t come back for ‘em. I opened the folder to see what they were. Happens a lot, I always check. Sometimes its naked people,” he said.
“Who was he, what’s his name?” Maureen asked. Naked people huh. Well thank goodness for curious teenage boys in need of extra cash. “Was he a repeat customer?”
“Never saw him before. Names usually fake, phone number too…it’s on the front,” his hand was out. He wanted payment and he had seen her pull an envelope out of her jacket.
“The money’s in the envelope.” The kid grabbed it, glanced at the contents and started to leave. “I’ll call if I get more,” his words were tossed over his shoulder as he was speeding away. Maureen scooted back inside to the warmth and safety of the building.
In the dark a trio of vampires stood, watching the exchange. Their silver eyes glowed in anticipation. The man who dropped off the photos had been tortured so the vamps knew where they had been developed, but they were too late. The pictures disappeared before they could get them out of the shop. Now there were two humans to be dealt with. Two killers quietly forced the door and followed her upstairs, the third headed after the teenager on the bicycle.
Starting paragraph by Francis
Rating: PG-13
Standard disclosures apply: No copyright infringement intended.
This is my attempt with a nod towards the Noir genre. The time frame is prior to Maureen being killed in Episode 13, Fated to Pretend. The piece was written for a writing challenge. Italics indicate thoughts, not the spoken word.
She ran out of reasons to stay inside. It was way too early but she couldn’t contain her excitement anymore. Putting a stray strand of hair back into the clasp she pushed the sliding door to the garden open and carefully stepped barefoot over the rough tile of the patio.
Alright I’m here, any chance you’re early too? Her thoughts tumbled out like those untamed strands of hair. She ran her tongue around her mouth. It was a nervous habit developed during her long days as a reporter for the local paper. Pursed lips tasted the sweetness of the alcohol, finished upstairs in her office. She had chugged the last of the whiskey with a grimace. The ice had melted and watered down the drink making it so weak it did little to warm her. Maureen shivered in the damp air. It was raining again and the drops bounced off the surface of the metal tables. She glanced around the enclosure and to the alley beyond. Drizzle covered the asphalt pavement with a slick coating and a cold breeze tore down the passage scattering someone’s trash like brittle leaves in fall.
Maureen waited impatiently for the kid to bring her the photos. She’d used this spot before to meet informants. The trees provided shelter from prying eyes and the patio outside Buzz Wire’s dining area allowed her the security of the building. Only the tipster was late. With the evidence in hand she could get back to the safety of her office and call Beth. Wind was whistling through the branches and the limbs waved back and forth creating an ominous pattern on the stone tile floor. I’m already on edge and this weather isn’t helping at all, she thought. Maureen paced back and forth looking down the street. At the end was a store front church with a blinking neon billboard. The “l” was burnt out and the sign that read “Welcome” now read “We come The End is Near.” Her eyes focused on the words, deciphering the message.
His bicycle skidded to a stop outside the hedge that separated the alley from the eating area. “Sorry I’m late. I had a customer and couldn’t get out of the store,” he said as if Maureen cared what the explanation might be. The boy was young, maybe 16, wearing blue jeans, a shabby tee shirt and a baseball cap shielding a large part of his face. “You’re Mo?” He asked, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of a pouch on his bike.
She nodded, “You see anyone else? And it’s Maureen not Mo.” Young snot, she thought. This is how you dress for work?
“Got the money?” he asked, lighting his cigarette. A stream of smoke blew out in her direction. “You always barefoot? It’s cold out here.” His eyes moving up from her feet and stopping at the neck line of Maureen’s blouse, peaking out from beneath her suit.
“Got the goods?” Maureen mimicked, trying to get the kids eyes to focus on her face. This wasn’t her first exchange and she wouldn’t pay for information that Buzz Wire couldn’t use. So how was I supposed to know how cold it was when I was upstairs? And you wear heels for ten hours; let’s see how quick you kick them off. She thought. He handed the parcel over to her. Maureen rifled through the pages feeling her anticipation building. “How’d you get these?”
“A guy left ‘em off to be developed and didn’t come back for ‘em. I opened the folder to see what they were. Happens a lot, I always check. Sometimes its naked people,” he said.
“Who was he, what’s his name?” Maureen asked. Naked people huh. Well thank goodness for curious teenage boys in need of extra cash. “Was he a repeat customer?”
“Never saw him before. Names usually fake, phone number too…it’s on the front,” his hand was out. He wanted payment and he had seen her pull an envelope out of her jacket.
“The money’s in the envelope.” The kid grabbed it, glanced at the contents and started to leave. “I’ll call if I get more,” his words were tossed over his shoulder as he was speeding away. Maureen scooted back inside to the warmth and safety of the building.
In the dark a trio of vampires stood, watching the exchange. Their silver eyes glowed in anticipation. The man who dropped off the photos had been tortured so the vamps knew where they had been developed, but they were too late. The pictures disappeared before they could get them out of the shop. Now there were two humans to be dealt with. Two killers quietly forced the door and followed her upstairs, the third headed after the teenager on the bicycle.