I'm sorry I haven't been on in so long, and I'm not sure if anybody's been checking these threads lately, but any opinion at all would be great. Thank you for commenting (ahead of time)!!!
Here goes:
The guard snapped to attention as her shadow slithered around a corner, fumbling for his radio as he jolted into motion. He held down the button, shouting hapless orders to static. Thrusting himself into action, he hears the nervous sweat swing off his face to sting the masterworks around him as he catches a glimpse of the scarlet edge of her coat. He stumbled back at the sound of gunfire, feeling the wooden doors shatter through the panicked floor as she forced her way into the traveling exhibit.
A burst of import jabs his heart as he catches titles in mind’s eye. Koh-i-nor. Cullinan. He dives through the remaining dendrite shards after her, feeling splinters needle their way through his leg as he skids across the tile. Wrenching his gun from its snug holster, he levels it at her heart, fingers twitching to a halt at the trigger as he hears the muffled cries of the hostages before him. The other guards, the curator, several students, bound together on the floor, synthetic fibers as wound as wire barely able to keep themselves from slicing through their skin. Teeth gritted, he looks back up to see her smile and tap her watch.
Ticking starts, strumming out an echo in the condensing panic and plucking away at him as it would a fiddle. He saw the box staring up at him from the curator’s chest with one delirious eye, flashing an albino red every time it blinked. She turns, waving a cheerful good riddance as he scrambles to his knees, falling over himself to get to the curator. He can hear her lofty footsteps strolling down the hallway in mimic of his throbbing arteries as he rends duct tape from its host, the device sinking into his grasp. Flinging the cycloptic parcel out the nearest window, he prays the streets is empty, watching the pavement scatter like a swarm of cicadas.
She felt the diamonds scratch against her side as knives, even through her jacket’s lining. The distant scream of sirens raging down the streets sounded like a viral hallucination as she ran out of the sculpture garden, a dream that spread like light from its source, the original amount shrinking as it leapt from ear to ear. She walked the next two blocks, peeling off her jacket and throwing it over her shoulder with the comfort of knowing she was moving in a direction perpendicular to the 911 response team.
Lorin’s BMW was sitting outside a Laundromat she had almost passed. Doubling back, she could see him through the sickly, adhesive stained windows, pulling a load out of the drier he had been sleeping on and shoving the clothes into a couple of eco-friendly shopping bags. They looked to almost be too much for him as he meandered out, looking over her with tame disinterest and popping the trunk. Not waiting for an invitation, she slid into the passenger seat, neatly folding the coat over her lap as he got behind the wheel. He leaned back, head lulling in her general direction with an obnoxious smirk. “’Ello.”
She glared out the windshield as miniscule droplets smacked against the glass, feeling the ghost of vodka on his breath. “I’m driving.” He shrugged, switching sides with her, letting his nearly catatonic gaze drift out the window as she started the wipers and maneuvered them into the seizure inducing traffic of the city. He seemed to reanimate as they escaped the urban sprawl, gazing upon his tiny duplex. Alex felt her mind numb as the thrill of escape vanished, evaporating with whatever was left of her energy as she pulled into Lorin’s driveway. Tugging the keys away from the transmission, she saw that he had escaped the car before she had come to a complete stop and was already in the process of trying to convince his dog, through the window, to open the door for him. She smiled—having actually seen this be accomplished on numerous occasions—and came up behind him, offering the keys.
The entire place seemed to grow progressively larger every time she visited. He always laughed when she mentioned this, “Of course it’s bigger on the inside, isn’t yours?” Then he’d mutter something about cleaning, getting distracted by whatever grandiose project was, at current, most important. She pulled the diamonds from her pocket, watching him attempt to shove the fanatical old beagle aside and make his way into the kitchen. Pouring himself a glass of water, he pulled a lemon off his counter, rolling it between his palms a moment before prying it open, watching the juice gush through his fingers into the glass with a mist of impatience coating his eyes. She helped herself to an apple, watching him add salt to the mixture and chug it in silence. Decisively placing the glass back on the counter, he waved his free hand in the air, vaguely shaping an idea.
“Work?” He looked up at her from beneath knitted brows as she nodded, “Right, right, right…” He rubbed his temples with one hand, thumb on the right and ring finger on the left. “Ah…ummm…” The fingers on his other hand flickered, living abacus as he crunched the numbers, murmuring into the empty glass, “Five…si…thi…tw…Alright.” He stared at her in decision, “The money’s going to be coming out in increments, so you’ll have your part in full in a couple of weeks at the earliest.”
She frowned, “That long for cash?”
Lorin shook his head, grabbing it after, and wincing. “Credit. It’ll be exchanging your fix for the cash that’ll take forever. The guy said some bizarre thing about trucks…Can you hand me that?” He gestured at a baguette, ravenously snatching it from her hands once it was proffered and ripping it into user-friendly chunks. Sighing as he shoved one in his mouth, Alex watched the beagle squirm in joy at her feet.
“Lorin, this is it you know.” His dilated pupils swiveled towards her as she gestured at him, “I can’t work with you like this, you have to sober up.”
His eyes widened slightly before averting to the shreds of baguette in his hand, “I’m not…”
“It’s detrimental to business.” Crossing her arms, she set the diamonds on the counter, pulling her jacket back on and moving towards the door, “You get a week to find a group. If you don’t, I’ll call your sister and have her move in with you while I find another tech.” She pulled her coat back on as he shivered, “I’m thinking Mary. Yeah…the burly one, right? I guess she’d bring all those cats with her but I’m sure you’d get used to it.” Lorin continued to apathetically ponder the floor as he heard her snap the front door shut, feeling the warmth of the beagle leaning against his leg.
He slid down to the floor, tearing the piece of baguette he held in half, letting the dog lap one up from his palm. “I hate it when she’s like this.” Settling her chin on his lap, the beagle stared up at him, mouth watering as she focused solely on the other piece of bread he was waving as he spoke, “Can’t even have any bloody peace in my own home!” She wiggled her tail furiously, backing away from him and barking with excitement. “What is it, Olive?” His gaze rolled over to the bread, tossing it to her. “You’re going to be quite a fat little lady one of these days. Just you wait.”
She yipped in agreement before devouring the last morsel, clambering into his lap with a yawn and falling on top of him with ears flapping. “Aw, no!” He tried to push her off as she squirmed into a more comfortable position. “You’re too big for this, get off!” She whined, “Fine, fine. But we’re not sleeping down here on the floor again. I always wake up under the sink…no thanks to you.”
He could have sworn Olive smiled.
Here goes:
The guard snapped to attention as her shadow slithered around a corner, fumbling for his radio as he jolted into motion. He held down the button, shouting hapless orders to static. Thrusting himself into action, he hears the nervous sweat swing off his face to sting the masterworks around him as he catches a glimpse of the scarlet edge of her coat. He stumbled back at the sound of gunfire, feeling the wooden doors shatter through the panicked floor as she forced her way into the traveling exhibit.
A burst of import jabs his heart as he catches titles in mind’s eye. Koh-i-nor. Cullinan. He dives through the remaining dendrite shards after her, feeling splinters needle their way through his leg as he skids across the tile. Wrenching his gun from its snug holster, he levels it at her heart, fingers twitching to a halt at the trigger as he hears the muffled cries of the hostages before him. The other guards, the curator, several students, bound together on the floor, synthetic fibers as wound as wire barely able to keep themselves from slicing through their skin. Teeth gritted, he looks back up to see her smile and tap her watch.
Ticking starts, strumming out an echo in the condensing panic and plucking away at him as it would a fiddle. He saw the box staring up at him from the curator’s chest with one delirious eye, flashing an albino red every time it blinked. She turns, waving a cheerful good riddance as he scrambles to his knees, falling over himself to get to the curator. He can hear her lofty footsteps strolling down the hallway in mimic of his throbbing arteries as he rends duct tape from its host, the device sinking into his grasp. Flinging the cycloptic parcel out the nearest window, he prays the streets is empty, watching the pavement scatter like a swarm of cicadas.
She felt the diamonds scratch against her side as knives, even through her jacket’s lining. The distant scream of sirens raging down the streets sounded like a viral hallucination as she ran out of the sculpture garden, a dream that spread like light from its source, the original amount shrinking as it leapt from ear to ear. She walked the next two blocks, peeling off her jacket and throwing it over her shoulder with the comfort of knowing she was moving in a direction perpendicular to the 911 response team.
Lorin’s BMW was sitting outside a Laundromat she had almost passed. Doubling back, she could see him through the sickly, adhesive stained windows, pulling a load out of the drier he had been sleeping on and shoving the clothes into a couple of eco-friendly shopping bags. They looked to almost be too much for him as he meandered out, looking over her with tame disinterest and popping the trunk. Not waiting for an invitation, she slid into the passenger seat, neatly folding the coat over her lap as he got behind the wheel. He leaned back, head lulling in her general direction with an obnoxious smirk. “’Ello.”
She glared out the windshield as miniscule droplets smacked against the glass, feeling the ghost of vodka on his breath. “I’m driving.” He shrugged, switching sides with her, letting his nearly catatonic gaze drift out the window as she started the wipers and maneuvered them into the seizure inducing traffic of the city. He seemed to reanimate as they escaped the urban sprawl, gazing upon his tiny duplex. Alex felt her mind numb as the thrill of escape vanished, evaporating with whatever was left of her energy as she pulled into Lorin’s driveway. Tugging the keys away from the transmission, she saw that he had escaped the car before she had come to a complete stop and was already in the process of trying to convince his dog, through the window, to open the door for him. She smiled—having actually seen this be accomplished on numerous occasions—and came up behind him, offering the keys.
The entire place seemed to grow progressively larger every time she visited. He always laughed when she mentioned this, “Of course it’s bigger on the inside, isn’t yours?” Then he’d mutter something about cleaning, getting distracted by whatever grandiose project was, at current, most important. She pulled the diamonds from her pocket, watching him attempt to shove the fanatical old beagle aside and make his way into the kitchen. Pouring himself a glass of water, he pulled a lemon off his counter, rolling it between his palms a moment before prying it open, watching the juice gush through his fingers into the glass with a mist of impatience coating his eyes. She helped herself to an apple, watching him add salt to the mixture and chug it in silence. Decisively placing the glass back on the counter, he waved his free hand in the air, vaguely shaping an idea.
“Work?” He looked up at her from beneath knitted brows as she nodded, “Right, right, right…” He rubbed his temples with one hand, thumb on the right and ring finger on the left. “Ah…ummm…” The fingers on his other hand flickered, living abacus as he crunched the numbers, murmuring into the empty glass, “Five…si…thi…tw…Alright.” He stared at her in decision, “The money’s going to be coming out in increments, so you’ll have your part in full in a couple of weeks at the earliest.”
She frowned, “That long for cash?”
Lorin shook his head, grabbing it after, and wincing. “Credit. It’ll be exchanging your fix for the cash that’ll take forever. The guy said some bizarre thing about trucks…Can you hand me that?” He gestured at a baguette, ravenously snatching it from her hands once it was proffered and ripping it into user-friendly chunks. Sighing as he shoved one in his mouth, Alex watched the beagle squirm in joy at her feet.
“Lorin, this is it you know.” His dilated pupils swiveled towards her as she gestured at him, “I can’t work with you like this, you have to sober up.”
His eyes widened slightly before averting to the shreds of baguette in his hand, “I’m not…”
“It’s detrimental to business.” Crossing her arms, she set the diamonds on the counter, pulling her jacket back on and moving towards the door, “You get a week to find a group. If you don’t, I’ll call your sister and have her move in with you while I find another tech.” She pulled her coat back on as he shivered, “I’m thinking Mary. Yeah…the burly one, right? I guess she’d bring all those cats with her but I’m sure you’d get used to it.” Lorin continued to apathetically ponder the floor as he heard her snap the front door shut, feeling the warmth of the beagle leaning against his leg.
He slid down to the floor, tearing the piece of baguette he held in half, letting the dog lap one up from his palm. “I hate it when she’s like this.” Settling her chin on his lap, the beagle stared up at him, mouth watering as she focused solely on the other piece of bread he was waving as he spoke, “Can’t even have any bloody peace in my own home!” She wiggled her tail furiously, backing away from him and barking with excitement. “What is it, Olive?” His gaze rolled over to the bread, tossing it to her. “You’re going to be quite a fat little lady one of these days. Just you wait.”
She yipped in agreement before devouring the last morsel, clambering into his lap with a yawn and falling on top of him with ears flapping. “Aw, no!” He tried to push her off as she squirmed into a more comfortable position. “You’re too big for this, get off!” She whined, “Fine, fine. But we’re not sleeping down here on the floor again. I always wake up under the sink…no thanks to you.”
He could have sworn Olive smiled.
