CTC29 day 9

Two women dashed through the lab door. They tipped a workbench against the door seconds before something began pounding the other side. 

Zoe spoke as she pushed a cabinet against the door. "Paige, I told you this would happen."

"Really?  You told me we'd be barricading the door to keep out a crazed chimp?"  

"Shut up and figure out how to kill the damn monkey."

"No!  I need to run tests - the serum works, can't you see that? 

Zoe stared at her one-time friend. "That thing almost killed 3 people.  It's trying to get in here to kill us."

Paige dropped her eyes. "The murderous rage wasn't part of the plan, no."

Zoe shook Paige's arm gently. "It doesn't matter right now. Now we need to stop that chimp before someone else gets hurt."  Paige sagged against the wall, nodding.  

"We can try a sedative. If you can distract him, I can inject him. It should knock him right out."

"You have got to be kidding me."  The both jumped as the cabinet fell away from the cracked door. "Ah hell." 

Paige jerked drawers open, collecting supplies then made up the syringe. As the door splintered, they each took position - Paige out of sight on the side, Zoe square in front of the doorway rubble. 

The chimp burst into the room, screaming its fury. Zoe screamed right back and punched it in the muzzle. The chimp seemed more surprised than injured. That moment was all Paige needed. She stepped out, emptying the syringe into the chimp's neck.   It whirled, lifted Paige off her feet, then dropped into a heap. 

Zoe helped Paige up, not seeing the second needle until it stabbed her arm.  Paige said "I have to finish my work." As Zoe passed out. 

Zoe woke up with only a headache - Paige, her notes, and the chimp were gone. 

Not Evil - Misunderstood

The three men froze as they heard the scrape of the lock opening. No one should have been in the pharmacy storage room at this time of night. A tired old man stepped in, pulling a janitor's cart. His eyes opened wide as he took in the three of them, standing in front of the open drug cabinet, each holding a bag half filled with narcotics. One of the thieves pulled a gun. The old man dropped his eyes, saying, "I didn't see a damn thing. I ain't even been in here yet." Heart pounding, he took a step back.

The man with the gun said, "Hold it," hoping he sounded more confident than he felt. The old man looked just like his grandpa Jack. He hadn't thought about his grandfather in years. He had thought about the plan: get in, get out with the drugs, no witness, no conviction. It worked like a charm until tonight. The other two looked at the old man, and back to him, trying to look tough but looking as scared as he felt. Stealing the pills was almost a joke - now this shit had gotten real. He nodded to the bags.

"Finish up and get out. You heard the man who wasn't here - no one saw a thing."

To the old man he said, "Might as well be comfortable while you're not here," and pulled over one of the desk chairs. Keeping his eyes on the floor, the old man sat. It was dark in the room - just lit by the streetlight glow through the windows. The man probably couldn't ID them even if he wanted to.

He heard the other two zip up full bags. Without turning he said, "Go on. I'll catch up."

The engine was already running when the gunman got in. Without a word, they pulled out. A mile later, the window rolled down so a brass casing could be thrown onto the otherwise empty street.

Larger-than-Life Zoe

Zoe barely heard the footstep before the mugger had cut her purse strap and run. "Gotcha," she said, vanished, reappearing in front of the mugger. He ran right into her fist. He fell, dazed. Shaking his head to clear it, he glared daggers at her.

"You just can't resist, can you?" Zoe asked, shaking her head.

"Hey, you're not a real cop! You're that mutie bitch from the news!" He struggled to his feet as he blustered. Zoe watched him, looking amused. "Don't you try that mutant crap on me again," he went on, "I don't want to hurt you."

He jumped when a voice from the end of the alley responded, "That's good. Maybe the judge will put that in your favor." The would-be mugger whipped out a knife as he turned.

"I wouldn't pull a knife on an real cop," Zoe helpfully suggested. Officers Martin and Horowitz stepped into the dim light, guns trained on the mugger. Without a word, he dropped the knife, and put his hands over his head.

Officer Horowitz cuffed and Mirandized the perpetrator, while Officer Martin bagged the evidence. "Thanks Offi... Ms. Alvarez." He looked away, embarrassed at the slip.

Zoe pretended not to notice. "Happy to help. Being able to teleport makes me excellent bait." They both grinned. She looked longingly at the purse. "Ya know, when you're all done with that bag..."

Officer Martin looked at Zoe, the bag, then back to Zoe, confused.

"It's a good purse. It's not like Coach bags grow on trees."

Officer Martin snorted a laugh, "I'll see what I can do." He followed his partner to their car, and Zoe teleported back to her apartment.

Ordinary Zoe

Zoe sat very still, staring across the table at her date. She stood deliberately, tucking her chair under the table. Her face dangerously cold she said, "You've mistaken me for someone willing to share a meal with a racist. Goodnight."  Without a pause, she turned on her heel to leave.  After a moment of shock, he lurched after her. 

"No, babe, I didn't  mean it like that," grabbing her arm as he caught up to her.   In one fluid whirl she pulled her arm free, stomped his instep, and vanished. 

Seconds later, standing on a rooftop, she dropped her cocked fist, took a deep breath, then swore quietly as she explored the roof. 

The next morning she wore a suit instead  of her police uniform. Her colleagues pretended not to notice as she walked through to the boss' office. "I need to take that medical leave."

"Are you sure?"  

"Yes. I teleported to a roof this time."

Her boss slumped in his chair, sighing. "Shit."

"Yeah," she agreed, dropping into a chair. They'd been over this before. She was a damn fine cop - and teleportation could be very useful once she had it under control.  If it were up to him, she'd go on leave long enough for her mutant power to stabilize, then put her back to work. Taking the leave was the right decision - blinking away on the job could get someone killed. The problem was the city giving in to anti-mutant paranoia. If she went on leave, she probably wouldn't be back. 

In silence she put her gun and badge on his desk. He straightened in his chair, then they both stood. They shook hands formally. "You'll stay in touch." He said - it wasn't a question. 

"You just want to have Mama's cooking," Zoe teased. 

"Not just that, he said smiling."

Zoe nodded, to close to tears to trust her voice. She walked out with more confidence than she felt. 

CtC29 day 5

Today's prompt had me write something inspired by the Writer Igniter prompt generator. I wasn't sure I could actually do anything with the prompt -

Character: Former beauty queen
Situation: reads a book eerily like his or her life
Prop: Romance novel
Location: fancy multi-level mall type place

I'm still not sure if I did anything good with it - but I always assume my writing sucks. So, here it is, in all it's incomplete glory :)

She and her purse dropped onto the bench. Shoppers thronged around and above her in the multilevel shopping mall. Not even a wander through {swanky department store} settled her nerves. Tired and irritable, she sighed, slouched, and tried to think of someone to call. Cleaning out her childhood bedroom, which should have been one more happy step on the path of independence, had upset her. She smiled and nodded as her mother prattled on about redecorating. Inside, she screamed an inarticulate tantrum. She shifted on the bench, not liking to admit to the frustration, even to herself. As she moved, her bag moved too. As she caught it, she saw the old paperback book she'd found between the mattress and the wall. She smiled again, as she had on finding it earlier that day. She's loved this book as a little girl, and dreamed of being as pretty and happy as the main character. She was certainly prettier than the bland blonde on the cover. She shrugged, set her bag more firmly on the bench, and opened the book. Other than turning pages, she barely moved for almost two hours. She only looked up when a touch on her shoulder startled her.

"Goodness!" Her friend exclaimed, "I called and called your name, but you didn't even look up. Must be a really good book." The woman sounded a hint sarcastic - neither of them really read books. She put on the appropriate apology-face and smoothed things over with her friend. She only half heard her friend's chatty conversation - the book could have been about her. The main character had grown up in the same kind of family, did pageants just like she had done, even started dating at the same age. She was a little afraid to keep reading - the main character was about to clean out her childhood bedroom.

CTC29 day 4

Day 4 complete! Here's my little microfiction :)

"Secret symphony my ass," she muttered. Normally she could hear music as she read it on the page, but this one eluded her. She wasn't about to to play each part of a totally unknown piece, no matter how it came into her posession. She typed into the music software that would divide it by instrument and play a computerized version. Like a storybook baby, she found the score on the welcome mat of her apartment. The cover letter said only, "Who I am isn't important. Please share this with the world - you'll understand once you hear it."

Her sneer turned to blankness, then stunned joy as she listened. She understood, and made it her life's mission to bring the same understanding to as many people as possible.

My random words were:

posession
secret
symphony
divide

Conquer the Craft 29 check in!

I am keeping up with the Conquer the Craft writing challenge. I'm doing a mix of typed and longhand entries. I'll post the ones I think reasonably ready, like today's.

Today's prompt is to write 25 words or less that hint at a larger story. The classic example is the 6 word story attributed to Hemmingway: "For Sale: Baby shoes. Never worn." Here's mine:

The boy I carried now carries his child.