Creative Copy Challenge #43

Our hero saw the smoke while leaving his nieghborhood Starbucks and, like an idiot, he would ponder later, ran toward the flames instead of away from them. (Must he always do that!) But as good fortune would have it, the gas tank of the burning car had not ignited yet. So, he began to yank on the jammed car door with all his strength to try to free the family of four inside.
As he grunted and sweated over the stuck door, his eye caught the reflection in the car mirror of gasoline spilling from the tanker truck on its side behind the car. A river of gas was flowing toward the flames of a third car which had flipped and caught fire (its passangers managed to get out safetly).

Although he was not as spry as he used to be, our hero managed to jump to the other side of the car and began yanking on that door. Much to his relief, the door finally came open and the passengers inside, including three small children and a mother, managed to scamper to safety.

And our hero, surveying the scene a final time to make sure no one else was in peril, hands bloody, shirt torn open, a proud gleem in his eye, managed to save himself too just before the flames and gas finally met in a huge fireball that startled everyone watching.

After a moment of stunned silence, when everyone finally caught their breath and began to settle down, a round of applause and cheers erupted from the crew and staff, and even the hard bitten director managed a slight grin before yelling, “Cut! Print it! He finally got it right on the 12th take.”

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Part 11
 
After the food and change into dry clothes, Kel felt a hundred times better. She took the photos from her pocket, wadded the dripping clothes into a ball and headed to the bathroom. The door to the other bedroom was closed, so Jax must still be changing inside. Shutting the door behind her, she sat the photos near the sink and wrung out the clothes, hanging them over the bathtub when she was finished.
 
From the sink, the picture of Jax gazed at her, his deep brown eyes drawing her in. She picked up the Polaroid and fingered it lightly in her hands, studying the face of her hero. Of course he was just a man, but it was hard to think of him that way, the one who had rescued her on several occasions. She would have never escaped that prison on her own, and being lost in the woods would have been no fun either.
 
She had no recollection of another soul, not even her own father. There was only Jax. Her knight in shining armor.  It made her wonder, if her memory never returned, would her ideal always be tainted by this one, the first man she met after her imprisonment?
 
She washed her face and hands in the sink and let down her hair so that it could dry. From under the mass of auburn waves, clear blue eyes stared back as she pondered the face in the mirror. Who was the mysterious girl and what did she used to be, before her abduction? Kel studied the reflection, mentally superimposing identities to see if they fit her image. Doctor? Teacher? Nail technician? She sighed. There was no telling.
 
Placing the pictures in her pocket, she decided to investigate the place a bit more. She left the bathroom and entered the greenhouse. The strong smell of peat and vegetation arrested her senses, bringing with it a sensation of familiarity stronger than anything she’d felt up to that point. She walked down the rows of plants, touching leaves and sniffing blossoms wistfully, trying to summon back any trace of a clue from her past.
 
After examining several rows, she noted that most of the plants seemed in dire need of watering. They weren’t turning brown yet, but she could tell that they were thirsty. Looking around, she saw a hose with a sprayer attached to one of the walls. As she began watering, a voice behind her made her jump.
 
 “You got a thing for plants?” Jax asked, giving her a curious look.
 
She shrugged and turned back to her work. “They need water. Whoever lives here hasn’t attended to them in several days.”
 
“Looks like quite a variety,” he said as he casually browsed the rows.
 
“It is. Flowers, succulents, ivy, palms, fruits, vegetables. An assortment of species, too. Three kinds of tomatoes, five kinds of cacti, several palms—”
 
“I wonder if these little round berries are any good,” he interrupted, examining a plant in his fingers.
 
“Don’t eat them,” she warned. “Holly berries are poisonous.”
 
“How do you know?” he asked.
 
“I just know. I’m not sure how, exactly. But I also know the scientific names of a good number of these plants. That’s not normal, is it?”
 
“Well,” he said, “I guess it depends on what you mean by ‘normal.’ If you mean knowledge that every person holds, then, probably not, no.”
 
“I wonder if my background had anything to do with botany,” she said, more to herself than to him.
 
Abruptly, Jax stepped in front of her and stared her down. “Kel, have you ever been in this house before?” His suddenly direct manner and severe tone alarmed her.
 
“Wh-what?” she asked, her voice faltering. “I don’t think so. Not that I can remember. I mean, this house isn’t familiar at all, just the plants.”
 
“Don’t play games with me,” he said, his tone accusing. “I’m not an idiot. I know that something’s going on here.”
 
“What are you talking about?” she asked.
 
“What was all the smoke and mirrors earlier? The apple in the woods? And back in the building yesterday? You are… You’re different,” he said.
 
Kel stared unseeingly at the hose she still held in her hand. She felt the burning of tears welling in her eyes, but fought to hold them back.
 
“I don’t know,” she answered in a meek voice. “I don’t know what I am. I don’t remember anything.”
 
“Turn off the water,” he said, his voice commanding.
 
She looked at him questioningly, and then started to take a step to the spigot. It was about five feet away. He put his hand out to stop her.
 
“No,” he said. “From here. Without using your hands.”
 
Her reason for responding to his order arose more from her own curiosity than a sense that she owed him an explanation. With her free hand, she reached towards the knob and mentally willed it to turn. After a few seconds, the metal yielded to her command and the spray of water dwindled to a drip.
 
She looked back at Jax. He stared at her, his eyes saying it all. Words couldn’t have made her feel worse.
 
“I don’t know how or why I’m able to do this,” she said. “I don’t have any memory of being different.” Her eyes pleaded with him to understand. To trust her like she had trusted him.
 
The awkwardness of the silence between them was unbearable. She felt like her insides were crawling with worms.
 
“Don’t you believe me?” she finally said, in a tiny voice.
 
Jax looked away. “I don’t know what to think,” he said in a husky voice, avoiding her gaze. He still looked wary but he had settled down some. The accusing tone was gone.
 
“I know it’s weird,” she said. “I’ve got to be more weirded out than you are. This whole thing is freaking me out.” She took a deep breath and decided to be bold. “Look. You were the one that suggested we stick together. That we would have to trust each other. And the fact that you can memorize an entire floorplan, while the discovery might have been good fortune for us, that was a little weird too, don’t you think?”
 
He met her gaze again, and this time his eyes were soft. But he still didn’t answer.
 
“All I’m asking is that you at least try to understand where I’m coming from. Just consider that I might be telling the truth.”
 
“Okay,” he said finally.
 
She breathed a sigh of relief, hoping that he meant it.

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The Homecoming
“Armand you used to be a man of influence and power and may have had fortune, but you’re in the 21st century!” Stop being such an idiot!  It would be wise to “jump down” from your high horse.  Katherine doesn’t see you as a hero who’s going to sweep her off of her feet” said Genevieve.  Armand was stunned.  No one, especially a woman, spoke to him that way in his life.  It didn’t sit well with him.  He stood up and caught his reflection in the mirror that sat above the fireplace.  His face was red and it looked as if smoke would come out of his ears.

Before he could speak, Katherine stood up.  “Settle down and ponder Genevieve’s words for a moment” said Katherine.  She was standing eye-to-eye with Armand; her heart was pounding in her chest.  Armand walked over to a round table and picked up an amethyst crystal.  He fondled it as he held Katherine’s gaze.  She quivered and sat back on the couch.

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He’s a mere reflection of the sun,
Wane, round or neither one.

He’s faint in proverb, mist and smoke,
He’s settled down to being the butt of some jokes.

His fortune isn’t what it used to be,
Nor can a cat fiddle or a spoon see.

A simpleton may ponder if cheese is green,
Or if a cow can jump from scene to scene.

But don’t think I’m an idiot, hey diddle or a babbling loon,
Just cause my hero is the man in the moon.

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Pathetically, I finally got this challenge done.  Too many distractions.
Avenged in Blood Part 10

Cabrese was awake. He was more docile now but I couldn’t tell if he was playing possum or if I had really beat him down enough. “You ready to talk?’ I asked almost conversationally. “Idiot,” he said. “Why should I say anything more to you?”
I chuckled. “Still that same old humor eh Cabrese?” I limped around the chair he was tied too. His face was drawn and pale but still filled with the smarmy attitude that made him the kingpin in this town. “Ponder this you worthless worm,” I told him. “Your business is over. Your family is over. Your sons are dead. You have nothing to lose. You may even make it out of here alive. Who else is in your organization?” I emphasized the last with air quotes.
“You think you will be the hero in all this? You ruin my business, kill my sons and expect me to settle down and spill everything to you?” he spat toward me again. I drew and fired my pistol into his left shoulder. He screamed as more of his blood spattered the already crimson floor. He passed out. I found a chair and sat down.
I was looking at my reflection in a mirror. The room where it hung was a dingy gray bathroom that I realized hung in the bus station. I had my uniform shirt open and my Kevlar vest hanging loose. There were two deformed slugs stuck into the armor of my vest and two matching bruises on my chest.
This was the bus station. Jack and I had been shooting for our lives with 3 of Cabrese’s thugs. I knew I had hit one. Jack hit another. Then I was hit. I fell to the ground in slow motion, the breath knocked out of me. I gasped for air and motioned through the smoke for him to go after #3. He did.
All of the civilians ran outside when I first yelled, “Police! Freeze!” so there was no help. I dragged myself to a bench and pulled myself to a sitting position. I couldn’t believe the pain. My Dad had always told me it hurt like mother to take a round, even in the vest. I was experiencing that right now.
Finally I made it to the bathroom and washed my face. Just another battle in the war against Cabrese.
I shook my head and snapped back to full consciousness. I must have dozed off. Cabrese was still passed out. Time for the next round. I stuck my thumb into the wound on this thigh. He screamed and came awake instantly.
“I used to be the most ethical cop on the force,” I told him. “ I used to care. Until today. You have made me jump ship and get on your level. Now I am here, covered in blood, and ready to end you.”
I continued, “This is it Cabrese. Who takes over when you are dead?” I released my pistol from its nylon holster again. He looked at me, realization dawning in his eyes. “No, no,” he said. “I have a fortune you can have it. Let me go!”
“You know I can’t just let you go without something in return, and not money,” I told him.
A sullen and defeated expression took over his once proud face. “There is no one else. My sons are dead. All of my men were here. You have won you son of a bitch,” he said quietly. “Not quite yet,” I said. “You still have family.” I hit him over the head with the pistol and headed toward the door of the slaughterhouse.
A few places to check and then back for Cabrese. I must be going mad.
check out the whole story at http://delphiusbogue.wordpress.com and my CCC post at my blog, http://justinsbrainpan.com/1132/get-on-over-to-the-ccc/

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Jump! Jump! Jump! chanted the idiots on the street below.  He wished they would settle down so he could get on with conceiving his backstory.  Used to be, an anti-hero could stand on a ledge all afternoon, have a smoke and ponder his fortunes and failures, but the compressed structures of modern fiction no longer allowed for such reflection.
He let his shoulders round forward and surrendered to gravity’s embrace.

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He was once her hero.  Now she figured that his manly, macho attitude had always acted as “smoke and mirrors,” hiding the real person that festered within.  She realized that she must have been quite the idiot to believe his act was the real thing.

“Now you’re going to give him something to ponder.  You’re making your own luck, deciding your own fortune.”  She gave herself another pep talk as she reached the landing on the stairs.  She realized her trepidation as she looked at her reflection in the mirror that hung next to the landing.

“Stand tall and walk into the living room as though you mean it!  Stop looking like you’re about to jump out of your skin!  You’re not the person you used to be.”  She squared her shoulders, strode down the stairs, and into the front room where her husband sat watching TV.  He glanced at her briefly and then settled down farther into his recliner, dismissing her presence.  She marched directly to where he sat, not bothering to take a round-a-bout approach to his chair.  He finally looked at her directly, acknowledging her existence but not bothering to ask, “What do you want?”

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(Oh my goodness am I behind. Which is not the name of this piece…)

FORTUNE’S SMILE

Fortune smiled on David that day.

How does that saying go? If you have time to scream, you’re going to make it.

No time to ponder old sayings. David’s head was pounding as the smoke cleared, but some primal instinct helped him jump into action in spite of his fuzzy head. Three of the friends who’d seen him through thick and thin were now strewn ‘round the old car, seemingly knocked out by the force of the fall from the highway—why was he, the driver, the only one with sense enough to wear his seat belt?

And where was Jessie? He started yelling to wake up the three who he could see in the car, stuck nose-down in the creek and rapidly filling with January’s icy water, but his yelling became much more panicked when he realized Jessie was nowhere to be seen. In through her passenger-side window, the water came faster as the car slipped another couple of feet into the muck.

David crawled into the back seat and he and his friend Tom, the least injured of the bunch, kicked out the back windshield with their boots. He hoped the car wouldn’t sink that far.

“Get the other guys out. Jessie’s missing,” he commanded, his tongue thick and unsure. “God, if you let me out of this,” he whispered as he crawled through the broken glass, “I swear I’ll never smoke and drive again. What an idiot I am.”

In spite of his rising panic, he nearly laughed at the half-promise, and whispered again as he flung himself off the car into the creek. “I’ll never smoke again. Forget the ‘and drive’ part, God.” That was as much reflection as David had time for. The second he was off on the passenger side of the car, he could see Jessie in the moonlight. Or rather, Jessie’s blonde curls, floating on the surface, shining faintly in the moonlight. Tom’s yelling, still trying to get the last two injured buddies out of the car, seemed a hundred miles away. David screamed—or he thought he might have—and he lunged for Jessie. He went underwater, hoping to see… anything, but even with broad daylight the narrow creek would be difficult to see in. Now, David had to make his way with his hands.

Jessie moved against him. God. She was still alive. He did everything to find what was holding her down, and finally discovered her hand and the arm of her winter coat, entangled in the torn metal of the car’s mirror. He ripped at the jacket, praying he wasn’t hurting her arm worse, and came up for air, expecting to see her free.

She wasn’t. He pulled at her back and under her arms, and got just enough of her face above water that she could cough, and gasp for breath. Somewhere in the distance, he heard Tom, yelling for help, but things were beginning to get fuzzier again for David. The worry over Jessie was consuming him and he felt sure he would be the next to pass out.

“My leg,” she gasped. “Under the wheel, I think. When it sank down… thought that was it.” She smiled weakly at David. “Hi, you.”

With every effort she made her face dropped. David was now cradling her head, keeping her mouth just an inch or so above the surface, holding back tears… holding back vomiting… and somehow, holding back passing out. His arm and head, he suddenly noticed, were in tremendous pain. He was ready to fall into the water himself.

“Settle down,” he warned Jessie. “You’ll exhaust yourself before…” Would help get there in time? “You’ll exhaust yourself.”

Used to be that David thought if you had time to scream, you were going to make it. In spite of the fact that all five of them did get out of that crash alive, he knew how precious—and how unlikely—their escape had been. Nobody felt like a hero—not David, high as a kite with his buddies daring him to take his hands off the wheel on a curve minutes before, not Tom who got the others out and somehow scrambled up the embankment to flag down a driver, not Jessie, who just held on.

Did the passing driver take a picture? A photo of the bloodied five made the front page of the weekly news and their high school yearbook, giving each of them a lasting reminder of the day. They were carted off to the tiny regional medical center for the county’s record number of stitches and broken bones in one night. They kept all their limbs, though David came close to losing the arm he’d never realized was gashed right through his coat, from elbow to shoulder. And when Jessie, blonde curls gleaming, married Tom a few years later, David couldn’t help but tuck a copy of that photo into their wedding present.

“The day fortune smiled on us,” he wrote in his card. “May it smile on you both forever.”

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