Post by Twilight on Jan 5, 2008 15:59:46 GMT -5
This actually started out as a writing challenge I found on a generator website, and then it turned into this. This is the first time I've tried to write something without any fantasy elements, and it was actually pretty fun.
Warnings: Suggestive themes, violence
------------------------------
The quiet creaking of the staircase echoed all the way up to my room. As I tossed and turned in the lumpy bed, I wondered how people were able to sleep at all one hundred years ago or whenever this house was built. The floor seemed to conduct every noise as if it was hooked up to an amplifier. I stopped struggling and lay on my back for a few minutes, trying to make out the overly-ornate frescos of cherubs and clouds on the crown molding of the bedroom. Honestly, what were these people thinking?
Next door, or down the hall, I couldn’t tell because of that crazy floor, there was a thud and then a sound like the breaking of some ceramic plates or some other useless trinket which adorned the walls. Either some people were getting busy in a way I won’t go into or there was a fight going on. I almost hoped for the later, just for the sake of my sanity.
I didn’t have to worry for long. Not a minute after the fight or whatever started, it was over. I heard some more footsteps pace down the hall. I breathed a sigh of relief and closed my eyes, willing my brain to stop working for just a few hours.
Again there was a disturbance. About ten minutes later, someone actually ran down the hallway, making quite a bit of noise in the process. I glanced at the digital clock by the side of the bed. In bright LED lights it read 1:27. Who the hell sprints through a bed-and-breakfast at one-thirty in the morning?
Fed up with the endless commotions, I swung my feet over the side of the bed, opened the door, and planned to demand, with my ducky pajamas in all their adorable glory, that I receive at least some compensation due to the lack of rest. My mouth stopped short in its quest for justice. A door opposite mine and a little way down was wide open. A girl, one of the ones who worked here, and someone who I assumed to be another guest, a man in his early thirties with dark rumpled hair and a tee-shirt, were staring at the floor of the room. The man appeared to be giving orders.
I tried to adjust my hair so I wouldn’t look as much like the Wicked Witch of the West and crept forward. I wasn’t spying, I swear. I just didn’t want to scare them. As I got closer, I noticed the girl’s complexion was as white as a sheet; even the man looked a little shaken. I swallowed as my eyes trailed down to the floor.
It was a body. A woman who looked to be in her forties lay slumped on the floor in a heap, a pool of blood circling around her head like a gruesome halo.
I must have made a sound because the man looked up at me, his forehead tight-knit in concentration, as if he was trying to figure out if I was the culprit. He said something to the girl and ushered her out of the terrible room. She shook violently as she made her way back to where I assumed her room was downstairs. I glanced back to the man. “What happened?” I asked, as if I couldn’t already take a darned good guess.
He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “You don’t want to—”
“Tell me,” I said defiantly. I might not have looked much at five foot five, but growing up in a house with three brothers gave me a pretty good scowl.
“A homicide,” he finally said after glowering at me for a few seconds. “I can’t tell you any more without knowing who the suspects are; even then, I probably wouldn’t tell you anything.”
I tried to peak behind the man’s shoulder, but he moved in my line of sight. I’m not someone who gets off on gore or anything. It’s just that I’m used to it. You see some pretty interesting stuff in medical school. Maybe I could even help out here. It wasn’t like there was a whole forensics team in the tiny town of Oak Grove. After a few moments of seeing who was faster at moving their torso, I decided to try to pry some more information out of the guy. “So who are you anyway?”
“Tom Forde,” he said as he pushed me down the hall.
I swung around and was about to hit him or slap him or do something, but he held up his hands and backed off. “Whoa, look. I just don’t want anyone going in there yet until, well, until whatever this town uses as CSI gets here. Everyone is going down to the foyer, including me. April should have the rest of the guests up by now.”
Warnings: Suggestive themes, violence
------------------------------
The Scene
The quiet creaking of the staircase echoed all the way up to my room. As I tossed and turned in the lumpy bed, I wondered how people were able to sleep at all one hundred years ago or whenever this house was built. The floor seemed to conduct every noise as if it was hooked up to an amplifier. I stopped struggling and lay on my back for a few minutes, trying to make out the overly-ornate frescos of cherubs and clouds on the crown molding of the bedroom. Honestly, what were these people thinking?
Next door, or down the hall, I couldn’t tell because of that crazy floor, there was a thud and then a sound like the breaking of some ceramic plates or some other useless trinket which adorned the walls. Either some people were getting busy in a way I won’t go into or there was a fight going on. I almost hoped for the later, just for the sake of my sanity.
I didn’t have to worry for long. Not a minute after the fight or whatever started, it was over. I heard some more footsteps pace down the hall. I breathed a sigh of relief and closed my eyes, willing my brain to stop working for just a few hours.
Again there was a disturbance. About ten minutes later, someone actually ran down the hallway, making quite a bit of noise in the process. I glanced at the digital clock by the side of the bed. In bright LED lights it read 1:27. Who the hell sprints through a bed-and-breakfast at one-thirty in the morning?
Fed up with the endless commotions, I swung my feet over the side of the bed, opened the door, and planned to demand, with my ducky pajamas in all their adorable glory, that I receive at least some compensation due to the lack of rest. My mouth stopped short in its quest for justice. A door opposite mine and a little way down was wide open. A girl, one of the ones who worked here, and someone who I assumed to be another guest, a man in his early thirties with dark rumpled hair and a tee-shirt, were staring at the floor of the room. The man appeared to be giving orders.
I tried to adjust my hair so I wouldn’t look as much like the Wicked Witch of the West and crept forward. I wasn’t spying, I swear. I just didn’t want to scare them. As I got closer, I noticed the girl’s complexion was as white as a sheet; even the man looked a little shaken. I swallowed as my eyes trailed down to the floor.
It was a body. A woman who looked to be in her forties lay slumped on the floor in a heap, a pool of blood circling around her head like a gruesome halo.
I must have made a sound because the man looked up at me, his forehead tight-knit in concentration, as if he was trying to figure out if I was the culprit. He said something to the girl and ushered her out of the terrible room. She shook violently as she made her way back to where I assumed her room was downstairs. I glanced back to the man. “What happened?” I asked, as if I couldn’t already take a darned good guess.
He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “You don’t want to—”
“Tell me,” I said defiantly. I might not have looked much at five foot five, but growing up in a house with three brothers gave me a pretty good scowl.
“A homicide,” he finally said after glowering at me for a few seconds. “I can’t tell you any more without knowing who the suspects are; even then, I probably wouldn’t tell you anything.”
I tried to peak behind the man’s shoulder, but he moved in my line of sight. I’m not someone who gets off on gore or anything. It’s just that I’m used to it. You see some pretty interesting stuff in medical school. Maybe I could even help out here. It wasn’t like there was a whole forensics team in the tiny town of Oak Grove. After a few moments of seeing who was faster at moving their torso, I decided to try to pry some more information out of the guy. “So who are you anyway?”
“Tom Forde,” he said as he pushed me down the hall.
I swung around and was about to hit him or slap him or do something, but he held up his hands and backed off. “Whoa, look. I just don’t want anyone going in there yet until, well, until whatever this town uses as CSI gets here. Everyone is going down to the foyer, including me. April should have the rest of the guests up by now.”
