Red, Black White part 2

“Roger, over here. Wojo says to watch your step. A couple a the guys lost it on the porch.”

Roger carefully stepped over the crime scene tape, and strode purposefully to the porch. O’Malley started up the steps, taking the last two at once to avoid the mess left by one of the officers. He wrinkled his nose at the smell. Roger followed him with an elegant stride that avoided the pool of vomit. He walked to the open door, closing his eyes. Roger looked over at his friend and erstwhile employer.

O’Malley never seemed still to him. The man’s eyes were in constant motion, taking in the scene, noting things to study in detail. In contrast, Roger held himself in rigid control at all times. He knew that his ability with magic would cause ‘side effects’ if he did not keep himself in self-control. He looked again at the stocky red-headed detective. “May I go in?”

O’Malley and Wizard Reilly stopped just inside the doorway. The miasma of rotted flesh hit them like a physical blow. The heat inside the house had let the bodies putrefy. Flies, hardy survivors of the weather, had found the corpses and were eagerly buzzing on and above the bodies. Roger looked at the first one. It had been torn badly, then apparently dragged six or so feet from where it fell. The smeared blood behind it was like a finger pointing at what had been a man.

Further into the bungalow style house, a second body could be seen just before the hallway to the back. The second body also had a smeared trail of blood, as if someone pulled it a short ways out of the hall and left it. A third body, barely visible, was in the darkened hall just short of an open door.

“The bodies were moved. The question is why?” O’Malley straightened his tie, then reached inside his jacket. He pulled out his cellphone, and frowned when the screen never lit. “Damn things is defective. This is the fourth one I gotta replace.”

Roger ignored O’Malley’s complaint. He slowly moved to the first body, carefully avoiding any bits of material or blood on the floor. The corpse was face down. The clothing had been shredded and burned by something. Roger closed his eyes, then concentrated his senses. Necromantic magic clung like a miasma to the body. Whoever this had been, their lives had been ended by death magic.

“The body wasn’t dragged,” O’Malley said. “See these spots? That’s where a hand or knee pushed the body along. They were alive when they left the blood behind.” Roger nodded. It was likely they’d tried to crawl away as the magic killed them. Escaping pain and fear was a human primal instinct. It was everything’s primal instinct when it came down to it.

Red, White, Black

The sun shown down from a cloudless sky. Trees spread their empty branches like skeletal hands trying to reach for the light one last time. The ground was a light brown of dead grass, waiting for the spring. Two police cars, one in the gravel driveway, one against the curb, stood watch as uniformed officers used yellow crime-scene tape to surround a small forest-green house with tan trim. The two bedroom home’s door stood open to the unseasonably warm air as a third vehicle pulled up to the curb.

The stocky redhead that got out of the unmarked car gazed at the house for a moment, then closed the door with a thump. The nearest officer turned at the sound, then held up the tape.

“Morning sarge, what’s got you out here?”

The sergeant looked up at the taller beat officer. “I’m out here because I was told the circumstances are unusual.”

Sergeant O’Malley looked like a cop. Short auburn hair framed square pugnacious features. His light blue suit coat looked like it came off of the economy end of the local five and dime store. His white shirt looked starched, making the dark blue tie stand out against the pale background. Light khaki pants nearly concealed the black leather sneakers.

The officer holding the tape, let it drop then straightened to his six foot four height. He saluted smartly then said, “The new guys didn’t bring the barf bags like I told them. Watch yer step, ya short mick.”

O’Malley looked back up at the tall officer. “Yeah yeah, meaning you stepped in it ya tall pollack.” Officer Wojohowicz grinned and gave O’Malley a thumbs up. The banter sounded like old friends needling each other, which it was. They’d grown up on the same street. The north side was all Irish, the south side, Poles and Czechs. Rarely did the two sides interact, but Wojo and O’Malley had found a common ground.

The youth gangs that ran around found out quickly if you took on one, you had both to deal with. It was that way through school, and into college. Both went into law enforcement, like their parents. Wojohowicz’s temper had him busted back to beat cop after he’d gotten too enthusiastic going after a ghoul and got himself and two others sent to ICU at Boston General. The local supernatural community paid the politicians well to cover it up, but the event never was far out of Wojo’s, or O’Malley’s minds.

O’Malley flipped the collar of his suit coat up against the slight bite of the unseasonably cold weather. As he reached the wooden porch steps, the grumble of a four cylinder engine made him pause. A vintage Willys Jeep pulled in behind his old blue Taurus. The man that stepped out looked more like a GQ model. The black duster he wore draped open, showing off his impeccable black suit. A dark blue tie adorned the white shirt under the suit. Roger Reilly pulled a pair of fashionable sunglasses out, putting them on to cut the glare of the sun.

Are we alone?

The discussion of uniqueness in the cosmos or one of many is really interesting. I believe that maybe we’re too humano-centric. If we’re alive, then there must be others.

https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2016/04/160428095339.htm

Random story thoughts

This is a sticking point with the previous story here. So I’m off trying to recapture the direction of the story to date. Random things keep firing in my mind as I’m trying to let this same mental morass clear the way for a continuation of the story. I had a thought that asked the question, ‘what would the world be like if a conspiracy like the Illuminati were real and they did conquer the world economically.’ What would society be like? How far out would the truth be known and how?

I think this is where the story’s looking at going, even though it’s simply supposed to be a alien invasion story. The twist being ‘what if the invasion is fake, so certain people are not looking at the right place and at the right time.’

On Writing again

Another post with a lag between. I apologize for that. I’ve started some stories, but haven’t found one yet that’s called me to finish it. It’s a bit like making characters in MMO games for me. There are times when the character swaggers out of the mists of creation fully formed, with a goal, a personality, and a full and rich background. Other times it make take rounds of play and many hours of pondering to finally piece together the character. And still, there are some that for whatever reason, are so vague, that no amount of creative brainstorming can seem to come up with a way to create a viable personality, and goal to make a character enjoyable.  When that happens, it’s laid aside, in hopes that something will give it the spark of life.  I keep my fingers crossed.

Working on snags in stories

I find that when I’m working on a story, I get a snag trying to figure out where a scene is going.  If I can’t figure it out right away, I’ll start writing random words, or start a new story and give my mind a chance to try and unravel the knot.  I think this is why I have so many unfinished ones.  🙂

Randomizing ideas and science

https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2016/03/160314141412.htm

 

I think we’ve reached the point where we can safely say that artificial limbs are only a few years away.  Couple that article with the one on bypassing a spinal cut, and there’s a real possibility for paraplegics to start walking again.  Actually that might make an interesting story.  A person bound to a wheelchair after being hurt while doing a job comes back with a stronger lower limbs than when she was hurt.  How do the people around her react to the change?  If the company was negligent in the injury, how does it react?

Writing Styles

This question I’m sure comes up a lot for people to ask authors, and authors to answer.  “How did you write your book?”  I know with some authors, everything is sketched out beforehand, then elaborated and cleaned up as it is written.  Others, like me, tend to just start writing and the story goes where it will.  Both work.  Just because you can’t write like your favorite author should tell you something.  You’re not that person.  Write to tell a story your way.  It takes time and practice.  It’s worth it in the end.

A Sneak Peek Behind the Scenes

I’ve found all the effort behind the scenes to be a real education.  The publishers asked, and helped me get these sites set up in Google+, Twitter, Facebook, and here.  The idea is to introduce myself, quirks and all, to people, and get you all curious about the crazy person behind the screen.  😉  Seriously though, publishing a book is a lot of work for all involved.  This is just one part, trying to create interest.  I freely admit to not being the best or most experienced poster.  So this is education in itself, which is exciting and frustrating for me.  I’m a very shy person in real life so getting me on something like this is akin to walking nude in public.  Anyways, to those who read this, thanks for sharing a bit of your day.  🙂

How fast things can change

A fiery crash ended a life today, one that had such promise.
Drugs, rebellion, and anger tore it from that path.
The woman stole a car, then tried to run away.
The police didn’t let her go, and neither did her despair.
The wreck killed her quickly, her body crushed beyond hope.
The promise in young eyes is gone.
The promise of youth is wasted.
The future is gone, and the memories are oil spattered dust
on a faceless road where no one will remember what was taken
by the choices, and the cost of them.