Absolute Write 2011 August Blog Chain: the Story–and Song

From the AbsoluteWrite forum August 2011 blog chain:

Step 1: Choose a song. It can be any song, vocal or instrumental, but you have to know what it’s called and who did it. If you really want to spin the roulette wheel, use the random function in your music player. Bonus points for finding and linking a YouTube video or other (legal) source. The song should be one you like and doesn’t have to be related to anybody else’s pick.
Step 2: Continue the story. Read the post before yours and continue the story in any direction you see fit. Your continuation must be based on, inspired by, or in some other way influenced by your song choice. Be prepared to explain it in the comments section!”

“The warm early morning sun through the clear water cast a mosaic of light on the beach as it sloped away into the abyss, and the water and sky met on the distant horizon, delineated only by a wall of cloud that might have been a storm. “

“Allison lifted each item out of her bag and placed it on a towel on her bed in turn – iPod, speaker dock, scissors… She looked at the scissors with apprehension for the first time. Is this going to hurt? Am I going to go to hell? “

“For so long he had waited for this moment; the right moment.”

“Lost in a roaring sea of spite and vodka , her brain forgot to coordinate the next step. “

“The sun exhaled a final pastel sigh and disappeared. Before it went, he saw her, motionless at the water’s edge. “

“ ‘Somethings not right with this place Willow,’ Greg spat. ‘Ever notice how damn high the suicide rate is here?’ “

“Greg stopped at the edge of the table, downed the bourbon and coke and placed the empty glass next to an ashtray, home to a lit Gurkha Black Dragon cigar.
‘Are you Spanky?’ “

“He saw everything over the years as time moved past him; the resort spring up over him. Time had forgotten him, Death had forgotten him, but he never forgot. His vengeance burned on. He would make them pay.”

“He stayed by her side, hoping for a chance of company tonight and also to make sure she would not be ending up dead. “

“Chris gathered a whimpering Clarissa in his arms and headed in the opposite direction, unsure of where to go.”

” One bikini clad girl lay in a pool of blood, a small silver gun still clasped in her left hand. “

“Chris pulled the dead body from the ocean and stared at it. Its face was covered with sand, but there was no mistaking that slight body; no mistaking that nightgown.”

“He’d rather be insane than have a crazy woman from his past threatening him with promises he never made to anyone, let alone to some God or Gods in whom he’d never believed.”

Song: Voodoo Child by Jimmi Hendrix

Spanky turned his smile to shine on Greg. “I’m Mr. Byron Saturday,” he acknowledged, “But some of the girls call me Spanky.” The smoke of his cigar clouded in an “O” around Spanky’s face, and for a moment beneath it Greg could swear he saw a creature with elongated fangs.

Greg’s face warmed. “Mr. Saturday,” he said, rasping against the smoke,  “I was wondering if you might know this woman?” He flashed a picture of Allison taken from her belongings.

“Mmmm,” Spanky inspected the picture with hunger. “I’d remember her.”  Spanky’s accent hovered between Spanish and French; rs rolled, but never quite from the same direction.

The locals had a habit of lying through omission.  Usually, Greg let it go – those illegal activities were often the only non-resort money to circulate on the island. If no one spoke of them, no one really needed to lie.

But this crime left behind a 6 year old child, and more than the usual damage that radiated to parents, lovers, and friends after a death.

This was not a crime of survival. Even if this guy really did have fangs, he owed it to the little girl to ask.

“Did you see her recently?” If he asked three times, islanders felt compelled to speak the truth. He repeated the question.

Spanky took another puff, and exhaled a smoke halo that rested for a moment just above Greg’s head. Two days ago.”

The innkeeper reported Allison’s body three days ago.

Greg put the picture away. The women dripping off Spanky might act overtly sexual, but they were no bimbos. At least two carried, in ankle holsters and an especially creative bikini-shoulder holster. This Spanky had sway. “Could you come by the station tomorrow – just as a courtesy?” He didn’t want to arrest a man protected by armed bikini babes. “It would do a world of good for this woman’s daughter.”

Spanky’s eyebrows shot up. “There’s a child?”

A girl wearing a compromise between a band-aid and a bikini appeared at his side. Greg took note of the red bag she wore around her neck – yeah, that’s what he was looking at – as he answered. “Yes, this woman had a daughter.”

Spanky allowed the woman to rest her head on his shoulder. “A child…” he muttered. He recovered himself. “I will of course come by the station tomorrow afternoon, officer.”

As Greg left, he kicked himself for not bringing Willow. He did so much better with the weird island culture stuff.

Comments

  1. orion_mk3

    Yet another interesting shady character added to an already overflowing pool of interesting shady characters!

    I’m intrigued, especially in “Spanky’s” interest in the little girl.

  2. Pingback: From “A Continuing Story Part 2″ by Anonymous « Excerpts From Nonexistent Books

  3. Pingback: From “A Continuing Story” by Anonymous « Excerpts From Nonexistent Books

  4. Pingback: AW Blog Chain « The Graveyard

Comments are closed.