First Day Villainy [FICTION]

Tales of a million first days tumbled through my mind. These tumbleweeds only increased my anxiety as I followed the orderly line of initiates taking measured, careful steps toward the double doors offering admittance to the most prestigious school for villains. 

As I passed through the ivy-covered gates, my new school unveiled itself. My nervousness mingled with confusion as I took my first look at this edifice. Despite the throng anxiously marching toward it, the building looked beyond deserted. It gave all appearances of a derelict structure left to molder. In fact, one of the front doors with weathered paint and rusted hinges hung askew.

This served to make the newest recruits aware of each other as our steps slowed, our jaws went slack, and our worried eyes sought answers in the gazes of those nearest to us. When the first bell sounded with surprising clarity, a dozen of us stood on the broken pavement, trying to decide if following those who bravely stepped through those doors would bring us the riches and recognition promised by our call to oppose law-abiding citizens and heroes everywhere.

“Ah. My class awaits me,” a voice crackled behind us.

I jumped and turned toward the speaker. My companions reacted the same for the most part. One didn’t react at all. Probably because giant headphones consumed his ears  and denied admittance to outside sounds. A girl tossed long, brassy locks of hair as she acknowledged the sound with half a wry grin before focusing her attention on the doors once more.

Those of us who turned found ourselves transfixed. I wondered if I had just been turned to stone. The woman before us stood close to six feet tall with long dreads cascading past her shoulders so that a first glance left one thinking Medusa had stepped out of ancient myths. Then she smiled and one pictured a coyote about to take down its prey as she tossed back the long green cloak on her shoulders to raise her hands.

“Come on class. It is time to start learning,” her voice rumbled like distant thunder as she shooed us toward the broken doorway.

More than one set of eyes rolled in silent protest as heavy feet stepped slowly toward the door. I fell in with my peers as our teacher marched us forward. She called out directions from behind until we finally found our way into a classroom devoid of all seating except a long bench against one window.

“Please sit down.”

We obeyed, compelled more by something in her voice than her fierce appearance. As we sat, somehow we all came to attention. I exchanged glances with the people on either side of me. One shrugged slightly as if such things should be expected. The other’s eyes widened almost to the point of hysteria. I decided not to seek reassurance from that quarter anymore. As the rustling of situating ourselves died down, the teacher spoke again.

“Every year, we get a new crop of the worst and baddest up and coming villains. Each year, we also find a new location for our school. In fact, it is not unusual to seek out a new venue more than once during the course of a school year. Thus your school greeted you with one door off its hinges and very little furnishing to make your educational experience easy.”

She paused to take a deep breath and offered a sneer that made my heart stop.

“Well, get used to it. You have embarked on the most difficult career of all because no one really wants you to succeed. But if you succeed, think of the wealth, the notoriety, the satisfaction.”

“And the lair.” Someone whispered to my left.

Our teacher graced them with a withering look. “But some of you will never get any higher than I have. As one of my high school teachers told us, ‘Those who can, do. Those who can’t, teach.’

“Finding out he was right has made me very irritable, so don’t tempt me to practice my villainy on you.”

We all nodded understanding and then the lessons began. As a villain, I would never share our secrets, but within the first half hour, it became apparent that the school required half-demolished buildings and it had nothing to do with secrecy.

~~~

I feel like you might want to know more. I do, but my brain hasn’t committed to digging deeper. Maybe someday I will get real sleep and write more and make excuses less?

 

Broken Promises [FICTION]

As soon as I opened the door, the air tasted different. I bit my lip and stepped into kitchen, listening for any sound besides my soft-soled shoes stepping carefully into my own home as if I were an intruder. No sounds greeted my straining ears. I glanced around the room. Everything looked as it always did except for a single sheet of my expensive writing paper in the middle of the table.

I gasped. My right hand flew to cover my mouth. Blood rushed to create thunder in my ears. Despite these signs of shock and fear, my foolish feet carried me to the table. My left hand cowered to curiosity and reached out to bring the page to my face.

“Dear Bella,

“I know you thought this was working out, but it wasn’t working for me. You leave me home alone most days. Then you return and barely give me a glance. It feels like you just keep me around for a someday that is never coming. So I am gone. Don’t look for me. I am hoping to be found by a real writer who can’t spend a day without me.

“Yours, 

“The Desk”

Tears coursed down my cheeks at the truth in those words. But I had to see it for myself. I slipped off my shoes and padded softly to my bedroom. As promised, an empty spot greeted me where my desk once sat. A few stray pieces of paper and two cats rested in their newly vacated nap spot.

“No,” I mumbled, vowing silently to write more.

~~~

Seems a little autobiographical, doesn’t it?

Memorable Trip [FICTION]

“Why did you wait so long to have kids?” My best friend Edie asked as she wheeled her suitcase breathlessly toward a cab. “If you popped them out sooner, they would have headed off to college years ago like mine did.

“You know why,” I leveled a look on her that spoke volumes to my confidante of over four decades.

She giggled and winked. No words needed to be shared about my horrible taste in men.

“So how does Joanie feel knowing you dropped her off at school and hopped a plane to Turkey with me?”

“She’s thrilled. I think she was afraid I would join her at college.”

“Not when you can join your best friend for adventure.” She elbowed me and offered me another wink as a handsome young man stopped to gaze at me for an excessively long moment before offering to place our bags in his yellow taxi cab.

We nodded assent and he energetically began placing our bags in the trunk. Meanwhile, we prodded and tickled each other as we situated ourselves in the back seat. Edie gave the driver the name and address of our out of the way and surprisingly cheap accommodations for the week. He nodded knowingly, throwing one last appreciative look my way before pulling out into traffic. Edie and I nestled into our seats, observing architecture and people as they raced past our window.

As we left the city, the quality of the road surface diminished noticeably. Soon we bounced back and forth off of each other like balls in a taxi pinball machine. I caught the driver glancing back at us with amusement on more than one occasion though he looked less amused after I crossed my arms over my chest and offered him my best disapproving mother look.

As I began to wonder how many bruises would mar my skin tomorrow, he slowed and we passed another ruined brick building. At the end of the long drive, an intact brick building rose over the scraggly trees. While not in ruins, it definitely had lived through better times. 

“You are sure you want to stay here?” Our driver asked as he slowed down in front of the door.

“Of course we are,” Edie’s expression changed and I elbowed her before she could say whatever inappropriate comment brewed within her mind.

“Yes, thank you.” I reached for the door and stepped out onto the worn pavers leading up to the ornate door.

Our cabbie grabbed our bags and followed behind as Edie and I slowly approached the door. Our eyes scanned the facade, taking in every detail with wonder and curiosity. The worn stones still appeared sturdy—strong enough to keep the building standing for our brief stay anyway. As we reached the front desk, out cabbie dropped the bags and gave me a disappointed look. He held his hand out expectantly. Edie tipped him as we both voiced our gratitude.

“Enjoy your stay, ladies,” he tipped his head to me one last time before returning to his car.

Edie snickered at me as an elderly gentleman approached from the other side of the desk. His shoulders slouched and his feet dragged slowly across the ground, but bright eyes gazed out from his wrinkled face.

“May I help you.” His heavily accented words flowed out like slow music.

“We have a reservation. It is under Edie Worth.”

He nodded his head and reached under the desk for a leather-bound register. After checking something at the front of the book, he opened to a page in the back with signatures filling half of the wide lines. 

“Please sign here,” he waved his hand over the page for emphasis.

We quickly complied and a younger version of the old man shuffled toward us to lift our bags. We gratefully follow him up a flight of stairs and down a long hall to our room. We stepped inside and half-listened to his explanations about the bathroom’s location and places to eat nearby. The sumptuousness of our surroundings attracted most of our attention, so we nodded politely as the man bowed out of the room, pulling the door closed.

Rich tapestries and curtains covered most of the wall. The rich colors and soft fabrics made me want to practice my meager belly dancing skills. Unfettered by inhibitions, Edie let her hips do the talking and I joined in. We danced around the room, mirroring each other’s movements until jet lag caused our collapse on the bed. As we stared breathlessly at the ceiling, sleep descended.

When we woke a couple of hours later, I felt slightly refreshed and ravenously hungry. We decided to try one of the places suggested by our solemn guide.

After we plied ourselves with lightly spiced kofte, mint, and yogurt, we retired to our room again. In the soft glow of the overhead lights, my eyes noted something I missed before. In a shadowy corner, a weathered chest stood alone.

“I think the last guest forgot a bag.”

“It’s a big one, too. Makes me wonder how clean the room actually is.”

We both peered around the room suspiciously and shuddered. Drawn forward by curiosity, I gently lifted the lid. Edie didn’t counsel me to stop. In fact, such silence descended that I knew she held her breath as I did. As the lid reached its zenith,  dust puffed around us and music from instruments I couldn’t name filled the air. Nestled in the trunk, weapons of a bygone war lay neatly arranged. A couple of turbans nestled beside a dagger with a decorative handle. Edie reached out to pick it up, but I knocked her hand away. The music around us intensified. We exchanged looks.

“Where do you think that music is coming from?” She asked.

I shrugged. “Maybe we woke something up.”

Her eyes widened and she reached out to abruptly put the lid down again. More dust puffed up toward us. The music faded away as we exchanged looks.

“I might want to switch rooms.” Edie whispered.

“Or hotels,” I whispered back.

We stared at each other in fearful silence then her fear unclenched enough for Edie to offer a smirk and suggest, “”We can have your admirer come rescue us.”

“Don’t make me change my mind about taking that dagger out of the chest.”

She laughed wholeheartedly now, “You love me too much.”

~~~

Another mystery like how my own “Edie” has been friends with me for about four decades. Must be all that stubbornness bred into the members of our shared family tree.  I hope my godson, her son, has the happiest birthday tomorrow and then celebrates his beautiful mama’s birthday tomorrow.

Wake Up Alarm [FICTION]

“What the…?” The question dies on my lips as I swerve to avoid oncoming headlights.

When the danger passes, I glance down to find myself clad in a gold lamé dress that barely covers the top of my thigh. Only one scantily clad leg remains visible as a heavy bag drapes across the rest of my lap. I peek into it and gasp as I realize bound piles of hundred dollar bills fill it to overflowing. 

“Where did this money come from? Where am I?” I peer out the window, trying to get a fix on my location.

As I take a peek out the back window, blue and red lights erupt across the top of a police cruiser. A siren blares, demanding that I pull over immediately. My hands tighten on the wheel. With questions whirring in my head, I realize the officer will have the same ones.

I take a deep breath and push the gas pedal to the floor. My knuckles whiten as I maneuver around the familiar road, hoping no one comes at me in my lane. My hope holds, but the car doesn’t. I realize the needle hovers on empty as it begins to shudder and shimmy. I pull over to the side of the road, sighing with acceptance as it coughs to a standstill.

I roll down the window and place both hands on the wheel as I anxiously watch the officer step tentatively from his car. He pauses with the car between his body and me to observe me for moments that stretch into eternity. Finally, he steps around the door with his gun drawn.

As he draws closer, he calls out, “If you have any weapons, throw them out the window now.”

I glance around the unfamiliar car, relieved to see no sign of weapons. “I’m not armed.” I pause as he steps closer before adding. “And I have no idea what is going on?”

“You didn’t realize you were speeding—away from a patrol car with its lights on?” Incredulity drips from every word.

“Honestly, I think I overreacted to the situation I found myself in.”

He snorts derisively, “Get out of the car, ma’am.”

As I slowly obey, I realize more than just my thighs are on display. He notices, too but quickly focuses his eyes on my face after a brief glance at my attire. As dark eyes bore into my soul, his stern expression softens a fraction. He lowers the gun and snaps it into the holster on his belt.

“So how about you tell me what situation you found yourself in?”

I stare at him silently as the Miranda rights echo through my head. “I wish I could?”

As if he can read my mind, he asks, “Do you wish to invoke your right to counsel?”

“I don’t know.” I shiver as a breeze blows through what little clothing I have.

He sighs heavily and steps toward me. “For your own safety, I think we need to take you down to the police station. The Chief will have some questions for you.”

My eyes widen with surprise as he taps his chin and contemplates the beat-up sedan. “Do you know how to get there?”

I nod quietly.

“Then drive the speed limit and lead me there,” he waves his hand.

“I would, but I ran out of gas.”

He eyes me for a moment and then turns back toward his car, “I have a can in my trunk. Stay here.”

I nod and lean against the car, watching him go about the process of filling my tank before turning to me, “Lead me to the station now.”

I nod.

Still stunned, my body slogs through molasses to follow his order. Back behind the wheel of the car, my mind races with every rule I ever memorized before my driver’s test. My eyes stray from the road to my rearview mirror with unnecessary frequency as I seek out his reflection there and try to gage his reaction to my every choice. When I finally pull into a space in the police lot, I turn the engine off with a sigh of relief. I slump forward over the steering wheel, breathing deeply. I pry myself off of my temporary pedestal when the officer raps on the window.

“Ma’am, you need to get out of the car.”

I step out slowly. He takes my elbow more tightly than I would like, but I remember that handcuffs are an option and let him guide me through the front doors. He nods to the desk sergeant.

“Tell the chief we have another one and see if we have something more…” he pauses and grimaces in the direction of my sparkling sheath, “reserved for this woman to wear.”

“My name is Bella,” I inform him.

A nod is the only acknowledgement he offers as he guides me down a narrow hallway to a room with a sturdy windowless door. He loosens his grip on my elbow as he turns the handle. He peers up and down the empty hallway before pushing me inside and following. As the door closes behind us, he gestures for me to sit down and looks toward the two way mirror speculatively.

“Have a seat, Bella.”

I sit and look up at him expectantly. He shakes his head and we wait in awkward silence for something to happen. A firm rap reveals the door to be metal. The officer opens it stiffly, relaxing only when he sees who stands on the other side.

“Stand down, Officer Millet, no one is observing us.” Deep wrinkles form around his mouth and eyes as the grey-haired man extends a bundle of fabric toward me. “Slip this on over what you’re wearing, ma’am, and we’ll see about getting you home and into your own clothes.”

I nod numbly and pull on the baggy sweatpants and oversized t-shirt that make up the package and feature the name of the police station in bold silver letters. As I retake my seat, they both perch on the table in front of me, looking down with reassuring smiles as they begin the oddest inquisition ever witnessed outside of a buddy cop comedy.

I don’t think my answers give them any clues about whatever they are investigating, but I gather some interesting albeit confusing intel. They ask me where I was before Officer Millet noticed me. They don’t question my attire or the bag of money. In fact, they seem to know the exact amount even though no one could have counted it that fast. As the questions taper off, Officer Millet crouches down in front of me.

“We’ll need you to go to hospital and get some bloodwork done, but I think we know what happened here,” he offers kindly.

“But we’ll need the keys to that vehicle, so Officer Millet will give you a ride to the hospital."

I hand him the keys to the car, relieved to no longer have responsibility for its secrets. Officer Millet takes my elbow more gently this time and guides me to his squad car. This time, he lets me sit up front. After a few minutes of silence, I decide to broach a subject that keeps bouncing through my brain.

“You seem to know more about what I was doing in that car that I do,” I say after loudly clearing my throat.

“We do.”

“Want to fill me in?”

“The chief will once we get your bloodwork back.”

I stare at him. His eye twitch but he keeps his focus on the road as he adds “Don’t worry. You should be fine. We just have to confirm our theory before we can completely clear you.”

As he pulls into my driveway, he offers me a reassuring pat on the hand. “Would you like me to come inside with you?”

I glance at the door. Nothing looks amiss, but recent occurrences lead me to accept his offer with a nod of the head. He comes around to help me out of the car and walks with me in silence. At the door, he holds out his hand. I look at him questioningly.

 “The key?”

My eyes widen. “I don’t have the key. I only had the key to that car.”

“I wonder,” he reaches out to touch the handle.

It turns easily under his hand. He motions for me to stand back as he steps off to the side of the door and pushes it inward. No noises or movement come from within the house. He still moves with practiced caution, entering the house swiftly as he pulls a flashlight from his belt and uses it to illuminate each room. By the time he finally returns to me, I have claimed a seat on the top step. Luckily, my neighbors tend to go to sleep early, so no one witnesses our bizarre reunion.

He approaches me with my keys dangling from one hand. The other now holds nothing as his gun now rests safely on his hip once more.

“It’s safe to go in. Need me to stay out here and watch?”

“You will anyway, won’t you?”

“Yeah. In case my theory isn’t completely correct.”

I nod and step into my house, closing the door and hoping this whole nightmare will be gone in the morning.

~~~

Will the nightmare be gone? Should I explore this one further?