So I started writing something, I'm pretty sure it's actually the longest thing I've ever written. This was written without a spellchecker, and I haven't proof read it at all. Also I have no fecking clue what I'm doing grammatically when it comes to writing dialogue (fucking conversations, how do they work?).
Anyway, this is the prologue, and part one.
Prologue
My eyes snap open and I take a breath, the first real breath I've taken in a long, long, time.
I smell garbage, and the metallic stench of blood, not the most pleasant things in the world to wake up to, but frankly I don't care, it smells glorious to me all the same.
I'm lying on the ground in an alley, it's a picturesque alley, there's a dumpster overflowing with trash, a fire escape, a manhole, and I suspect there are even some rats lurking somewhere around here. There's also a man facing the other way from me, he's wearing jeans and a black wool hat.
I get to my feet, the man turns around and looks at me with a look of complete shock. He drops something brown, then fumbles to pull his hat down over his face. The hat turns out to be a balaclava, and as he pulls out his gun it starts to become clear to me how this body of mine died.
I'm expecting him to say something like, “Don't move or I'll shoot.” Instead he just shoots me. The bullet slams straight into my chest and nearly knocks me off my feet.
I respond by slamming my fist into his head so hard he bounces off the wall and falls over unconscious. I considered disposing of him more permanently but killing someone less than five minutes after I'd arrived seemed like it would set a bad precedent.
Right, first thing's first. Who am I?
I look down at the brown thing he dropped, it's a wallet. I lift it up and look through the compartments, two credit card, a drivers licence, and a stack of business cards all for one Jason Harrier, business attorney.
I peek my head out from the alley. I haven't seen much of it, but it doesn't exactly look like the safest neighbourhood in town, I have no clue what Jason Harrier was doing here, but his loss is my gain.
I look down at my chest. There's two bullet holes, although surprisingly little blood, that might have something to do with the first one being wedged in my heart. The second one seems to have hit my sternum. The second one is shallow so I reach into it and claw out the bullet. The sternum seems more or less intact.
Now to do something about the shirt. I'm wearing a three piece suit, but only the shirt and tie is stained with blood, the mugger's white t-shirt acts as a good enough replacement, while I'm stripping it from him I rifle through his pockets and find about eighty dollars in bills which either belonged to Jason Harrier, or someone else before they found their way into this man's pockets.
I notice a briefcase, I try opening it but it has a combination lock, rather than try fiddling through the combinations I just tear the entire thing open. It occurs to me that that should have been more difficult than it actually was. Apparently I have quite a bit of strength in this form.
The briefcase is empty except for ten stacks of hundred dollar bills, I count through one of the stacks. It seems to be worth about five thousand dollars.
I'm struck by a sudden sensation of something rising up from my stomach.
I wretch, then I wretch again, then I vomit out a handful of hard, black pebbles.
I smile, it seems they made the transition with me. I gather them up, not minding that they singe my fingers a little, then shove them into the inside pocket of my jacket.
I rummage through my pockets to find a flat, oblong, object, and a keyring with a set of keys on it, and a strange black device with two buttons on it, one with an open padlock, and a closed padlock.
I put the flat, oblong, object back in his pocket and tried pressing the open padlock.
Beep beep.
The sound came from behind me, I turned around and tried pressing it again.
Beep beep.
Across the street from the alley opening a black sports car flashed its signal lights.
A few moments later, I step into the car, place the briefcase in the passenger seat. I adjust the rear view mirror and look at my reflection. Short cropped dark hair, strong jawline, straight nose, good teeth. I'm actually pretty attractive. I smile, then stop. For some reason my smile comes across... disturbing. I decide to turn the car on and find out what's on the radio.
It starts off on some kind of country music, I change through the various stations until I find one playing some good old fashioned swing music.
I sigh in satisfaction.
Oh how I missed this world.
Part One, Maggy
I clear my throat and decide to try some smalltalk, "So, do you like your job?"
There's no response from anyone in the elevator.
"Anyone?" I ask looking at the two men who are each gripping me by the elbow.
They both look identical. They're both massive, they both have bald heads, sunglasses, suits, and earpieces. The also both have identical expressionless faces.
"They don't talk much." The voice comes from the third man who's standing to the right with my briefcase. He's slightly shorter and less muscular than the other two, and has short cropped black hair instead of a bald head.
I peek my head round one of the men to get a look at him. "Well... what about you? Do you like your job?" I ask him.
"I suggest you don't talk much either." He responds.
I decide to take his advice. After a few moments more the elevator comes to a stop with a ping, and we get out. I'm lead down through a series of corridors full of unmarked, identical doors. The man holding my briefcase opens one of them, and I'm led inside.
I was expecting a smokey office, instead to my great surprise I'm led into a sunlit lounge. The door I just came through is the only entrance, the wall to my right is taken up by a large, well organized, bookcase, the one to my left is a self serve bar. I can see various types of liquor including whiskey, vodka, gin, brandy, rum, tequila, and even a small wine rack.
The wall in front of me is taken up by a set of glass windows that shows a brilliant view of the city. In the middle of the room are two high-backed chairs with a coffee table in between them.
I'm dragged into the left chair, the presence of the two bald headed giants on either side of me makes it clear I'm not allowed to leave the chair.
The other giant picks up a remote from the coffee table, and presses a button. A set of metal shutters slowly closes down on the panoramic view, blocking out the sunlight.
The room turns pitch black, the only light comes from a tiny slit under the door to the room, the shutters don't let even the smallest sliver of light through.
The room is silent.
After a while I say, “Is someone going to turn on the-” Click.
The lights flash on, and sitting in the seat opposite me is a woman. She has a long black skirt, shoulder length black hair, and a white blouse.
“Maggy!” I smile, “How have you been?”
She glares at me, “Do I know you?”
“Of course, how else would I know who you are?” I respond.
“Everyone knows who I am,” she says, “the question is, who are you?”
“You wouldn't remember me.” I say.
She leans back in her chair and looks pensively at me. A glass of something dark red gets handed to her by the man with the smaller giant.
She takes a sip from the glass and says, “I have an exceptionally good memory, but even so, I'm pretty sure I'd remember dealing with a demon.”
I'm not very happy about being called a demon, but I shrug off the inadvertent insult, and continue, “I'm not a demon, though I'm from that area, you might remember me from a long time ago when I my name was Markus.”
“Markus...” she sips from her glass and looks wistful for a moment, “I do remember working with someone named Markus a long time ago. I seem to recall he got in a lot of trouble and killed himself.”
I nod my head, “Yes, but I've come back for a little while, to sort a few things out.”
She takes another sip, “I see... And you want me to help you with this unfinished business?”
I nod again, “There's a few things I'd like, first of all I want you to look up a few people, find out where they are.”
“Can be done,” she says, “what else?”
I steeple my hands, “I need a seeker.”
She bites her lip, “Seekers are mighty hard to get, they're also extremely pricey. They're far too useful to be traded cheaply.”
“Which is exactly why I know you'd keep one around.” I say.
She downs the last of her glass and hands it over to the dark haired giant. “There's one problem with all this, I don't do charity work, and I highly doubt you're anywhere near rich enough to pay for my services.”
On the coffee table is a bowl. Presumably it's meant to contain fruit, but right now it's empty. I empty the black beads from my pocket into the bowl.
She leans over, and looks at the contents of the bowl. “Is that what I think it is?” She says.
“Black amber, straight from the source.” I smile.
Her face suddenly becomes very serious, “Mark, I could get into a lot of trouble dealing in this stuff.” she says.
“You could also get incredibly rich and powerful.” I respond.
“I'm already incredibly rich and powerful,” she gestures to the room in general, “do you think these kinds of luxuries just grow on trees?”
“Maggy,” I say, “give me your expert opinion, how much these stones are worth.”
A glass is handed to her by the dark haired man, this one contains something considerably darker than the last, “Priceless doesn't begin to describe it, some people would trade every piece of art in the Louvre for it, and even then I don't think it would really be enough.”
“I'm sure you could work something out.” I say.
“Maybe, can I ask how you got it across the barrier?” she asks.
I shrug, and respond “I swallowed it.”
She blinks, “I have no clue how that works...”
“Neither do I,” I say, “look, will you take the deal?”
She thinks for a moment, then says,“Sure, sure, but there's going to be a couple of conditions.”
“What conditions?” I ask.
“We'll get to that later,” she says, “we'll get you cleaned up while we look up these people. May I ask how the body died?”
I lift up my shirt in response, she winces. “We can do something about that, Eddy?”
The dark haired man turns attentively to her.
“Would you kindly take the bowl and put it in the safe room, then bring back some of the special water please.”
Eddy, obediently takes the bowl, and turns for the door.
:Oh, and don't touch the contents.” She says.
We wait in silence for a while. Eventually I clear my throat, “Could maybe have a glass of whiskey?”
She frowns at me, “I think it's better you don't put any toxins into your body, you're living on borrowed time as is.”
“Would it really make things any worse, I mean, I'm already dead right?” I ask.
“Yes, it would,” she says, “Trust me, these things matter.”
I shrug and leave the subject alone.
After a while Eddy comes back and puts a bowl almost identical to the one he left with. This one has water with a strange blue tint in it. He sets a washcloth down next to the bowl.
I sit up in my chair and hesitate. “What do I do with this?” I ask.
“You wash out the wounds, then drink the bowl, make sure you drink it all.” She says.
I take off my shirt and jacket, then wet the cloth and rub it gently across my chest. It's an odd sensation, the water seems to stick into the wounds then reform into flesh.
After a thorough cleaning, there's no sign it was ever even there.
I pick up the bowl and raise it to my lips. “Bottoms up.”
The water is metallic in taste, and warms my body on its way down. I finish it off and wipe my mouth.
Maggy is looking at me expectantly, I sit there for a while wondering what's supposed to happen, then suddenly my entire body jolts. I fall onto the floor. The first, the pain stops.
It's like when you hear a noise for so long that you tune it out, and only remember it's there when it stops. Until now my I'd been in agonizing pain, but now it has abruptly stopped.
I notice a thump thump thump sound, and I realize it's my heart beating.
“Interesting, how long does this last?” I ask.
Maggy shrugs, “Days, weeks, months maybe. I honestly don't know.”
I notice there's still a small pain in my chest. I laugh as I realize what it is, “We forgot to take the bullet out.”
Maggy shrugs again, “This is all temporary anyway. It's just something to keep you going a while longer.”
“So... what now?” I ask.
“Well first, you tell me who these people you want to find are.” She says.
“Could I have some paper and a pen?” I ask.
Eddy disappears through the door then returns a few minutes later with a sheathe of paper and a pen.
I write out a list of names. “All these people lived in Boston when I was alive.”
I turn the paper towards her. She stares at the names for a while then says, “Oh. Yes, I think we'll have no trouble finding these people.”
I nod. “Yes, I thought you might recognise the names.”
“They're your victims.” She says.
She looks up at me, and stares at me for a long time. “Did just come back to torment them some more?”
“No,” I say, “ mostly I want to make amends.”
“How on earth are you going to do that?” She asks.
“I have one or two ideas, we'll have to see when we find them.” I say.
She sighs. “Now I think you take a shower, get a bit of rest, we'll look into these people. Eddy will set you up with a room.” She says.
The large, dark haired man nods at me.
I rise to my feet, “I'll see you later then.”
She stops me. “Before you go, I have to ask, how did you find me?”
I blink, “You found me,” I say, “I just walked into a hotel, asked for a room, then while the receptionist is typing away at her computer two these three come up and tell me that the management wants to talk to me.”
“Interesting...” she says.
She looks vacant for a moment, then shakes her head. “It doesn't matter,” she says, “I'll see you tomorrow morning.”
“Bye.” I say again.
Eddy leads me out through the door.
As I leave I hear Maggy call out,“And put a shirt on!”
****
The suite consistet of a large single room with a bathroom off to the side, a walk-in closet off to the other.
There's a kitchen, a dining area, a living area with two couches and a TV. There is also a large king size bed above which a large digital clock reads, 6:34.
Fifteen minutes later I'm relaxing in the bathtub relaxing amidst mountains of bubbles when I hear the sound of music coming from somewhere in the bathroom. It takes me a few seconds to realize it's coming from the pants I had idly discarded next to the tub.
I lean over the edge of the tub and fumble through the pocket finding the oblong object that I now realize is a phone. The screen is lit up and there are two buttons on it readings “answer” and “decline”.
I press the answer button with a soapy hand and put it to my ear. “Hello?”
“Hi, Jay.” The voice of the man on the other end sounds strained. ” Did you sort things out?” It asks.
“Err... no?” I respond.
“What do you mean no!?” He shouts. “This is serious business, you know how much trouble we're going to be in! Where are you now?”
I think for a moment, then respond, “I can't tell you.”
“DON'T FUCKING MESS AROUND ON THIS JAY!” I pull the phone away from my ear as the voice comes screaming out of it. The voice goes on a rant that's full of so much static, and expletives for me to really understand what it's saying, so I decide to end the call by performing a perfect three point throw of the phone into the toilet bowl with a plop.
I spend a few hours watching cartoons in a bathrobe. Then when the clock above the bed hits eleven, I decide it's time to get some sleep.
I take off the bathrobe and lie on the bed staring at the ceiling for a while before I hit the light switch.
...
I spend a long time lying there with my eyes closed, but sleep doesn't come.
I open my eyes. The room is so dark that there's no difference between open eyes and closed eyes.
I don't dream, I don't sleep, I just lie there staring into the darkness without a single thought rolling through my head. Time passes, and blurs beyond distinction, but I still just stare into the darkness.
I'm interrupted from my reverie by a knock on the door. I reflect that if nobody had knocked I may never have moved. “Come in.” I say.
The door opens and light spills in through the doorway. I raise a hand to block it from my eyes.
A gravelly voice says, “It's time to get up. You're going to miss your flight.”
I fumble for a while before finding it and switching the lights on. It takes a few seconds for my eyes to adjust, but when I do I recognise the person in front of me.
“Eddy?” I say. It occurs to me I'd never actually heard him talk before.
“It's time to get up.” He repeats.
I stretch, and pull the covers off of me. Eddy abruptly places a hand over his eyes. I realize I'm naked.
“I'll be waiting outside.” He says as he retreats from the room.
I check the walk-in closet. There's a large variety of men's wear in various sizes. After hunting around for a while I put on a pair of underpants, some corduroy pants, a white button up shirt, and a pair of dress shoes that seem to be about the right size.
In the corridor Eddy was holding a shiny black briefcase. “I noticed the lock was broken on your old one, so I got you this one and moved the contents over.”
I take the briefcase and open it up. Sure enough the money's all there. “Aren't you wondering about why I'm carrying this much money around?”
It's a little hard to tell behind is sunglasses, but I think he gives me a condescending look.“Sir, I've seen people carry around far more money than that as petty cash.”
I close the briefcase. “Fair enough. So, what's the plan?”
“Everything has been arranged, if you'll just follow me to your limosine.”
****
So.... any advice on how to make this less awkward?
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Topic: ___/The Writer's Apprenticeship\___ (Read 313145 times)