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Category Archives: WIP

Forever Hold Your Confession

As I watch Corey Eisner setting up a poster size picture of Kevin, my mind slips back to my first night in jail.

I was exhausted after what felt like hours of relentless interrogation. I’ll tell you now, the movies don’t exaggerate the mental beating detectives put you through. There truly is a protocol for good cop, bad cop. Detective Spencer played the good cop. I’m sure his boyish good looks serve him well not only in his chosen field but his personal life. I trusted him far less than Detective Kray who exuded a genuine dislike for his fellow mankind. The more exhausted I became, the greater their resolve to reduce me to a puddle of tears. I held firm to my determination not to cave by remaining silent. It was Detective Kray’s raised fist flying towards my face which put an end to the interrogation. His partner narrowly missed deflecting the blow to my jaw before angrily shoving him towards the door. Both men shot me a dirty look as they nodded to the startled rookie to escort me to my cell.

After the humiliating experience of being stripped searched and deloused, I was led to my new home. And my new cellie. Wanda wore the air of someone who was old school in the ways of being a criminal. I watched as her eyes grew wide with greedy delight as I hesitated at the entry into our cell. She appeared to be in her mid-forties, although I suspected she was probably younger. Her hair wore the disheveled style of a woman who had no time to worry about outside appearances. Her brown eyes were etched deeply with weariness displayed in the form of wrinkles. Her mouth formed into a grotesque smile of sorts, showing random missing teeth.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the Ice Princess herself,” she cackled with glee. “I have me a real life bona fide celebrity right here in my cell. Come on in, sugar. Old Wanda ain’t gonna bite you. Not unless you ask real nice.”

I stood frozen in my spot, willing myself to wake up from this horrible nightmare. It was in this moment Kevin’s death and the reality of my situation hit the center of my existence full force. There was no turning back the hands of time. No undoing the actions which drained Kevin’s life from his body. No escaping the bitter truth of what my life was to become. Had become. The rookie gave me a gentle push, telling Wanda to play nice, before chuckling as if he were comedian of the year.

Drawing myself up, I pretended not to feel intimidated as I went to put the sheets on what I assumed was my bed. My stomach gagged at the strong smell of urine embedded in the mattress. I contemplated the choice of sleeping on the floor, deciding it was my best option. Taking my time, I refused to look in Wanda’s direction until I sat down on the bed mere inches from her. She gave a little snort as she swung her heavily tatted legs on the floor.

“So, it’s gonna be like that, is it?” Her eyes narrowed, nostrils flaring. A mental image of a bull with her face jumped into my mind. For the first time in my life, I truly understood the concept of fear.

“I guess they was right to give you that name. Ice Princess.” She drew the ‘s’ out sounding much like the serpent who tricked Eve into taking a bite of forbidden fruit. “Suits me just fine. Ice Princessssssssss. Makes no never mind to me. Cuz in this cell block, I’m the Princess. I call the shots but you’ll figure that out.”

She stood, surprising me with how petite she was in build. Leaning towards me, she grabbed my face, squeezing hard. “You best play nice with Old Wanda. I’m the best friend you got now. What’s that girl’s name? The one they call the Little Girl Lost?”

“Angela,” I gasped. “Her name’s Angela.”

“Yeah, Angela was your best friend but mark my words, when you least expect it, she’ll turn on you quicker than a snake in a hen-house. Yep, you best mark my words. Ice Princessssssssssssssss.” Letting go of my face, she adorned me with another smile. A smile I soon learned meant someone was to pay hell for the demons raging in Wanda’s mind.

Write in the “close” first person:

John Updike’s short story A & P is a great example of writing from this close “I” colloquial (spoken) point of view; it is through the spoken tone here, that we come to know this character as a teenager:
Link up with us HERE

Curious about the Ice Princes? Catch up with her story.

 
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Posted by on October 11, 2012 in fiction, Sandra's Writing Workshop Hop, WIP

 

Turning Back The Clock

When I first started this story, it was in response to a prompt. Read here for the first part.

Corey Eisner, is the new, up and coming prosecuting attorney who has been assigned to send us to death row. He’s made plenty of statements to the media stressing how he will not rest until he knows we meet with the fate of having a needle put into our arms. He has also assured Kevin’s family and friends it won’t be a twenty year process of constant appeals.

I believe him.

Mr. Eisner is preparing to give his opening statement to the twelve strangers seated in the jury box. I’m not quite sure how these twelve people are my peers. What do they know about us? They’ve never spoken to us. They’ve never asked, ‘How did it get to this point? Would you change it if you could?’ I don’t believe they haven’t been exposed to the headlines in some manner or another. The entire jail of inmates knew who we were before we were even arrested and booked.

I remember reading somewhere once our brains aren’t capable of creating faces as we dream. You think your mind conjures up a stranger’s face, but the reality is at one point, even if it was just a second, you’ve seen that face somewhere. Maybe the jurors didn’t know it was our case being discussed but I’d lay money down they’ve heard something about us.

My attorney keeps telling me I need to quit coming across like I don’t care about what’s going on around me. It’s not that I don’t care, it’s that I already know I will be sent to death row. I don’t see the point of carrying on a trial when we could just plead guilty. Presenting all that evidence isn’t going to change a damn thing. It won’t clean the blood from our hands. It won’t bring Kevin back. It won’t make all of our lives go back in time and back to normal.

Studio30+ offered two prompts this week. I chose ‘Back To Normal’

 
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Posted by on September 7, 2012 in book, fiction, Studio30Plus, WIP, writing prompts

 

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Whistle While You Work

Dawson pulled up in front of the old theater, his old truck idling roughly. He stared at the building responsible for the course of his life. He still savored the irony of the townspeople asking him to fix the old building, returning it to its former state of glory. He knew their dreams of breathing life into Avery were pipe dreams but he’d allow them to dream, just as he had once.

He turned off the engine, tossing his cigarette butt out the window and stepped out of the truck. He gave a friendly wave to the mayor walking towards the diner. Dawson could picture the scene. The usual group meeting for their ritual breakfast of coffee and gossip. Not that there was much to gossip about in Avery. Outside of Carolyn’s unexpected pregnancy, rumors flying fast and furious about who the father really was. Dawson felt a little sorry for Carolyn, knowing she lived in a private hell, much like he did.

Stifling a yawn, he grabbed the box of trash bags from the bed of his truck. He’d decided to start with the bulk of the work which would be inside. Over the years, the bored teens of Avery had snuck into the old theater to make it a place of partying and release of pent-up hormones. He supposed it was a natural course of action given there wasn’t much to do in the sleepy town.

Making his way into the building, his eyes momentarily hurt as he left the glare of the morning sun. Slowly, his eyes adjusted to the darkness. The shadows turned into visions of peeling paint, piles of trash, and smatterings of graffiti. He could make out the faint scent of urine as he kicked a path through the piles.

Yes, he’d have plenty to keep him busy and his mind occupied as he settled the score accomplishing his life’s mission. A wicked grin in place, he whistled as he began collecting debris.

This week I’m taking part in my first prompt with Studio30+ , a picture prompt. We had a choice of two: Peeling Paint or Kool Aid. When I saw the picture for the ‘Peeling Paint’, I knew it was perfect for Dawson’s Story.

 
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Posted by on June 28, 2012 in fiction, Studio30Plus, WIP, writing prompts

 

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