PROMPTuesday #55 – In Which Everything Changes
“Finish the story,” said. So I will.
RULES:
- Try to write your entry in 10 minutes. This encourages top-of-mind, primal thinking before the ego and judgmental brain kick in. Just set a timer, make your kid count to 600 slowly, whatever. It’s an honor system. And I trust you.
- Aim for 250 words or less.
- Please have fun. Don’t put pressure on yourself. Together, let’s rediscover the simple joy in the writing process.
- Post your submission in the comments OR post in your blog and leave a link to your blog in the comments.
“What are you doing here?” I hadn’t thought to knock.
Aaron raised his head from the table. His eyes wouldn’t meet mine. “We need to talk.”
That didn’t sound promising. Nobody ever says “we need to talk” when it’s good news, do they? No. They start out with “oh my God! The best thing just happened to me” and are off and running for 15 minutes of your life that you’ll never get back. So Aaron’s head on the table, his ominous words, and the way he wouldn’t look at me told me more than I figured I could handle at this point. Still, I had to ask, “about what?”
“He knows.”
“Who knows what?” Stupid question. I felt a sinking feeling coming over me.
“Rino. He heard through the grapevine that Packer’s dead and he thinks you did it.”
“Shit. This isn’t good. I knew as soon as he heard that he’d think I was responsible.” Forget that sinking feeling. Drowning would have been a preferred demise compared to what could happen to me if Rino decided I was to blame. Whether or not I pulled the trigger would matter not to him. The simple fact was, Packer, my ex-husband and Rino’s nephew, was dead as a doornail and someone would have to pay.
“Aaron, you gotta get me out of here and someplace safe.” Icy panic sliced through my gut. I could barely think of anything other than escape. There’d be no reasoning with Rino and there’d be no rest until I was far, far away from here.
Aaron just looked at me, shaking his head, rising to his feet. “It’s too late. You know he’s watching already. You know he’d always be looking for you. There’d be no peace. You’re just going to have to face him and tell him what you know.”
“But I don’t know anything! You know that!”
“Callie, it doesn’t matter what I know or what you know. It only matters what Rino thinks and right about now, I’d be getting your shit together. There isn’t much time.”
There was nothing to do. My shit was together. In fact, it felt as if it were about to come hurling out of my mouth at supersonic speed. Any normal person would be in tears at this point, but all I could think about was what a big mistake it’d been for me to even get involved with that damn man and his insane family. But no. No tears were forthcoming, just the urge to vomit.
I sat down at the table and shook my head. There had to be a way out of this. There had to be. This was all too much and I let my head fall to the table. Perhaps it was just a dream. Maybe if I closed my eyes for just a couple minutes it would all go away. I heard Aaron shuffle around the table and felt him behind me. I reached my hand up to my shoulder in hopes that he’d take it, comfort me, but instead, all I felt was cold, hard steel.
Very entertaining… but you stopped! What happened next?? Ack! I’m already invested in Callie as a character; what if I walk around all day wondering about her? :biggrin:
Comment by Pam — 2009/05/12 @ 04:07
Very good! Like Pam, I want to know what happens.
I had a great aunt her murdered her lover in a hotel room in the 40s. The gun “went off” so it was chalked up to an accident and a lovers quarrel. The story always fascinated me as a child. That aunt scared the shit outta me.
Comment by Chris — 2009/05/12 @ 06:48
This totally sounds like the beginning of a book. And you’re right about “We need to talk.”
Comment by Jenn @ Juggling Life — 2009/05/12 @ 07:29
Wow. More please!!!
Great dialogue, great suspense.
Comment by g — 2009/05/12 @ 08:19
“What are you doing here?” I hadn’t thought to knock.
Aaron raised his head from the table. His eyes wouldn’t meet mine. “We need to talk.”
“I’m out of beer and the playoffs are on. Can ya help a pal out?”
Comment by p2 — 2009/05/12 @ 16:43
I cannot reveal the rest. It’s classified.
p2, beer works
Comment by DaGoddess — 2009/05/12 @ 16:51
You always come up with these great scenarios.
You should be making $$ off that imagination.
And I loved how you ended it.
Comment by San Diego Momma — 2009/05/12 @ 18:58