Older Chests
I was once told, by someone of sage-like wisdom, that some words, when spoken, can't be taken back. Only now was I learning that this was so evidently true. She was sitting there, waiting, no.....wanting for me to say something. Her deep, brown eyes stared back into mine, tears brimmed the edge of their perfect shape, and created a reflection of their beauty. It was heartbreaking. How could I tell her what was going on? How could I tell her what was wrong with this...with all of this,
"Are you....ok?" I asked tentatively. She blinked, quickly turning her attention away, as a tear fell slowly to the table, soaking the checkered cloth. I could see from her reaction that she was not, but that wouldnt stop her from saying that she was. Always headstrong.
"I'm fine," she whispered, not wanting to give her voice a chance to betray her sentiment, I'd imagine. She was so beautiful. Her perfection radiated out from our table, warming those around us with her glow. "Wh....wh.......why?" She whispered, even more quiet than before. The song in the background had begun to pick up into a sweeping 4/4 rhythm, acoustic picking slowly below the singers distinct voice.
The lyric in the chorus seemed to sum up exactly what I was feeling so I just let it go, let it explain for me what I was thinking. I pushed my eyes up, giving her the indication to listen closely. She responded ever so slightly, locking eyes with me again, tilting her head to the left, and pulling me into that lovely, chocolate void.
Some things in life may change and some things, they stay the same. Like time...there's always time.
She welled up again, her full lower lip pulsated out from under her perfectly slim upper lip and her bottom teeth, biting ever so slightly on the plumpness. This was a look that could kill, and indeed, thats what it was doing. It felt as though someone had shot me through the chest. There was a hole and it was being bored out like an engine, ever widening, whether I wanted it or not.
I moved my hand up to brush another tear away from her cheek, but she instinctively moved just out of my reach. I shrunk back at the rejection. I wasnt doing this to spite or hurt her. At this moment, I wish that she could have seen my thoughts. This was best for her. She would understand it soon enough. Just then, she looked at me, strangely....sadly.
"Hold....hold still." She said quielty, still unsure of her voice. She moved slowly with her left hand to my cheek and found what she was certain was not there. "You;re....crying?"
I looked away from her intriguing face. Of course I was. She didnt know what this was doing to me. It was nothing compared to what I feared she was feeling. If I only had a way to know....to know what she was feeling.....what she was thinking. That could only help me in my decision. The neckline of my shirt began to grow as wet as the edges of her sleeves. She was looking down now, the cloth below her face growing wetter by the second.
"How long?" she asked without looking up. Her voice cracked on the backend of the last word.
"Not long now," I said shortly and quietly. "Not long now."
Her hand slammed down on the table, drawing stares from the small amount of patronage in the restaraunt. She didnt care, and at this moment neither did I, She slid her chair back quickly and spun out of it, her movements graceful as ever, and ran from the restaraunt....from the table......from me.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Possibly a Character Study, or the start of a new Character Driven work.
The melancholic voice of the irish troubadour floated over the air in the background. Pleasant I thought. It was a soothing sensation, almost wistful. If I was to die now, at least this seemed an appropriate soundtrack for that death. Beautiful. Painful. Sad, yet uplifting. Just the thing my death would require, or so i thought. I could live with it ending this way......Ironic i thought as I examined that last sentiment. Maybe she was worth all of this. Evidently......I wasnt.
Currently listening to:
Damien Rice
"O"
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Once again.....Story
The scene was just as the five before it were; completely clean. The body was arranged in the similar way as well, head tilted slightly, exposing the spine, and the arms out in that familliar Christ pose. Her breasts were cut deep, just as all the victims before her, the incisions once again raising the question as to how or why someone would shove their fingers that deep into someone.
"Myles.....I.....I dont know if I can keep this up," Jones said from the other side of the body. He was turned away from the scene, leaning on an extended arm against the closest wall. He sounded different than normal. Very different. Almost..........broken. "Theres nothing we can do."
Myles could hear him over the growing sounds of the morning. Traffic horns blared in the distance, people shouted to each other. At the scene, it seemed like night had stuck around, leaving just the CSI team, Myles, Jones, and the victim.
"Jones......Jones dont say that," but it was to no avail. Myles could see the growing wetness on the ground below Jones' hung head. He slid his back against the wall and buried his face into his hands, between his legs.
"Fuck me, Myles. I've never seen anything like this. I've never had a case like this....completely untraceable. We arent gonna catch this guy. We arent."
"Come on man, dont say that." Myles suddenly knew how Jones felt. He could remember his first seemingly unsolvable case, back in '85; a child murderer. It almost broke him, but eventually, Myles caught the son-of-a-bitch. Jones' cocky persona had finally melted away, revealing the young man inside. "We all have cases that try us. This is your first real test in the field, the first real test of your grit. We can get this bastard and we are going to, but I cant do it alone. Pull yourself together and lets get to work. Dont want those press asshole to get a picture of you crying, do ya?"
"Fuck me....." Jones muttered to himself, pushing his body up and wiping his eyes. He looked up at Myles, seeing more than a partner at that moment. He saw a friend. A mentor if you will. "Wasnt crying old man," he scoffed. "I think you're going senile."
Myles laughed quietly to himself. That a boy, he thought.
"So we really need to look closely at this scene. we have some clues that we didnt have before. Maybe we can finally lay out a tentative idea of what goes on during one of these attacks." Myles stepped back, as he caught Jones nodding and doing the same.
"Id say, he goes for the throat first, ripping and tearing with something, until he gets deep enough for the person's strength to wear a little. Then drags them to the ground. I dont know really the purpose for the finger incisions though."
Myles took in Jones' comment, imagining it in his mind. "Do you think he goes straight in with his mouth? Those teeth were pretty fucking sharp."
"I dont know Myles. It takes a lot of force to rip through so many laters of skin, muscle, and bone."
Myles had to agree with that. "Well, maybe.....hmmm....maybe he takes them down with the attack to the chest first and then he goes for the throat." He thought about that for a second, but his mind brought forth evidence to the contrary. "No...it cant be that."
"Why the hell not? It makes sense."
"Well think about it Jones. All of the victims were found in realtively populted areas. Maybe not near houses or busy streets, but every area had a decent amount of foot traffic. If he went for the chest first, someone would had to of heard a scream. No....no....the throat was definately first. I would say, he started out low, taking the vocal chords first with whatever weapon he had. That way....the sick bastard could,"
"Finish them off slow." Jones finsihed the sentence. "Goddammit. Fuck man. Even if we do catch this guy....he's fucking crazy. He definately wont go down easy, and that is considering that we catch him at all."
"Hey!" a voice shouted over the noise behind them. "We've got something."
Both detectives perked up, sprinting to where the CSI worker had shouted from. He held up a small dark piece of something between a pair of forceps. It was beginning to crumble under the pressure of the forceps.
"What is it?" Myles asked, Jones grunting in agreement.
"I wont know until we run some tests, but a guess would say that it is charcoal."
"Myles.....I.....I dont know if I can keep this up," Jones said from the other side of the body. He was turned away from the scene, leaning on an extended arm against the closest wall. He sounded different than normal. Very different. Almost..........broken. "Theres nothing we can do."
Myles could hear him over the growing sounds of the morning. Traffic horns blared in the distance, people shouted to each other. At the scene, it seemed like night had stuck around, leaving just the CSI team, Myles, Jones, and the victim.
"Jones......Jones dont say that," but it was to no avail. Myles could see the growing wetness on the ground below Jones' hung head. He slid his back against the wall and buried his face into his hands, between his legs.
"Fuck me, Myles. I've never seen anything like this. I've never had a case like this....completely untraceable. We arent gonna catch this guy. We arent."
"Come on man, dont say that." Myles suddenly knew how Jones felt. He could remember his first seemingly unsolvable case, back in '85; a child murderer. It almost broke him, but eventually, Myles caught the son-of-a-bitch. Jones' cocky persona had finally melted away, revealing the young man inside. "We all have cases that try us. This is your first real test in the field, the first real test of your grit. We can get this bastard and we are going to, but I cant do it alone. Pull yourself together and lets get to work. Dont want those press asshole to get a picture of you crying, do ya?"
"Fuck me....." Jones muttered to himself, pushing his body up and wiping his eyes. He looked up at Myles, seeing more than a partner at that moment. He saw a friend. A mentor if you will. "Wasnt crying old man," he scoffed. "I think you're going senile."
Myles laughed quietly to himself. That a boy, he thought.
"So we really need to look closely at this scene. we have some clues that we didnt have before. Maybe we can finally lay out a tentative idea of what goes on during one of these attacks." Myles stepped back, as he caught Jones nodding and doing the same.
"Id say, he goes for the throat first, ripping and tearing with something, until he gets deep enough for the person's strength to wear a little. Then drags them to the ground. I dont know really the purpose for the finger incisions though."
Myles took in Jones' comment, imagining it in his mind. "Do you think he goes straight in with his mouth? Those teeth were pretty fucking sharp."
"I dont know Myles. It takes a lot of force to rip through so many laters of skin, muscle, and bone."
Myles had to agree with that. "Well, maybe.....hmmm....maybe he takes them down with the attack to the chest first and then he goes for the throat." He thought about that for a second, but his mind brought forth evidence to the contrary. "No...it cant be that."
"Why the hell not? It makes sense."
"Well think about it Jones. All of the victims were found in realtively populted areas. Maybe not near houses or busy streets, but every area had a decent amount of foot traffic. If he went for the chest first, someone would had to of heard a scream. No....no....the throat was definately first. I would say, he started out low, taking the vocal chords first with whatever weapon he had. That way....the sick bastard could,"
"Finish them off slow." Jones finsihed the sentence. "Goddammit. Fuck man. Even if we do catch this guy....he's fucking crazy. He definately wont go down easy, and that is considering that we catch him at all."
"Hey!" a voice shouted over the noise behind them. "We've got something."
Both detectives perked up, sprinting to where the CSI worker had shouted from. He held up a small dark piece of something between a pair of forceps. It was beginning to crumble under the pressure of the forceps.
"What is it?" Myles asked, Jones grunting in agreement.
"I wont know until we run some tests, but a guess would say that it is charcoal."
Sunday, February 1, 2009
Even More Story
The warm liquid once again flooded into his mouth, spreading warmth through his body, opening his eyes wide, awakening his senses to the world around him. Myles loved coffee, especially when it was free. Jones scowled at him from behind his own coffee cup, as Myles smiled to himself.
"So.....they say its a shark tooth?" Jones said, saounding more confused than normal. He scoffed to himself. "What the fuck do they know anyways."
"They didn't say it was a shark tooth. Open your ears and pay attention once in a while. Jesus Christ. They said it resembled a shark tooth, but from the roots and root shafts, it appears to be from a human." Myles set his cup down and picked the tooth back up, shifting it between his fingers, analyzing it with scrupulous eyes. "Im not sure what we're dealing with here. Maybe someone had some kind of augmentation, or even surgery. I dont know how else to explain it."
"That could be right, but not augmentation or surgery. Evidently, this thing was actually connected by roots, and that means it was natural. Maybe it was filed down."
Myles thought that it was a plausible idea, but something still didn't add up. "Yeah, maybe." He said, quietly pondering things while Jones stared with waiting, curious eyes over his coffee. "If it was filed down though, how is it serrated?"
"If it was filed down by a proffessinal, the person might have the capacity and skill to do it." Jones was pulling for his argument now. He knew he was right.. Myles wasnt so sure.
"I dont know about that. Look at it this way. If you are going to go through the extreme pain that it would take to file down your own teeth, and then pay a skilled craftsmen to make them serrated...........I dont know....I just dont think you would take a chance at losing them, and if you did, you would think the perp would want to get it and have it put back in. It seems like a lot of money to just throw away. Then again....you could be completely right."
"Keep in mind what the crime scenes have looked like, Myles. This perp is a fucking freak, and obviously not right in the head."
"You got that right." Myles nodded his agreement. "Im not sure what we can do. This is what.....victim five or six now? We cant seem to make any headway."
"Well...." Jones said, contemplaiting their situation. "I guess the only thing we can bank on is that we wont have to wait long for another shot. This bastard's struck 5 people in the last week and a half. Its already been a day. I bet we have another one by tomorrow."
"You wont have to wait that long," a voice shouted over the steps. Myles and Jones both looked up to see a stocky, bald man with a beard approaching Jones' desk. He wasnt the tallest but his sheer girth in muscle made him an intimidating presence. The captain looked a little more than pissed off, walking swiftly and deliberately towards the two, carrying two files in his right hand. He slammed them on the desk in front of the two detectives. "Last night, the sick fuck killed a 23 year old girl. We just found her. Same M.O. as before. Goddammit, Myles you have to find something. You've been at this long enough to know that if this continues, the public will be up our asses so fast, we are gonna have to shit out our dicks. Get to it."
He turned and walked out, shaking his head.
"McCready is such a hard ass," Jones said.
"Just let it go. He's under a lot of stress. He knows we are doing everything we can. Lets hit it. I wanna check this out before the scene is trampled by the fucking press."
"Good call," Jones shouted behind Myles as he grabbed his coat and hurried out, trailing the old detective. "Lets pray we find something on this one."
"So.....they say its a shark tooth?" Jones said, saounding more confused than normal. He scoffed to himself. "What the fuck do they know anyways."
"They didn't say it was a shark tooth. Open your ears and pay attention once in a while. Jesus Christ. They said it resembled a shark tooth, but from the roots and root shafts, it appears to be from a human." Myles set his cup down and picked the tooth back up, shifting it between his fingers, analyzing it with scrupulous eyes. "Im not sure what we're dealing with here. Maybe someone had some kind of augmentation, or even surgery. I dont know how else to explain it."
"That could be right, but not augmentation or surgery. Evidently, this thing was actually connected by roots, and that means it was natural. Maybe it was filed down."
Myles thought that it was a plausible idea, but something still didn't add up. "Yeah, maybe." He said, quietly pondering things while Jones stared with waiting, curious eyes over his coffee. "If it was filed down though, how is it serrated?"
"If it was filed down by a proffessinal, the person might have the capacity and skill to do it." Jones was pulling for his argument now. He knew he was right.. Myles wasnt so sure.
"I dont know about that. Look at it this way. If you are going to go through the extreme pain that it would take to file down your own teeth, and then pay a skilled craftsmen to make them serrated...........I dont know....I just dont think you would take a chance at losing them, and if you did, you would think the perp would want to get it and have it put back in. It seems like a lot of money to just throw away. Then again....you could be completely right."
"Keep in mind what the crime scenes have looked like, Myles. This perp is a fucking freak, and obviously not right in the head."
"You got that right." Myles nodded his agreement. "Im not sure what we can do. This is what.....victim five or six now? We cant seem to make any headway."
"Well...." Jones said, contemplaiting their situation. "I guess the only thing we can bank on is that we wont have to wait long for another shot. This bastard's struck 5 people in the last week and a half. Its already been a day. I bet we have another one by tomorrow."
"You wont have to wait that long," a voice shouted over the steps. Myles and Jones both looked up to see a stocky, bald man with a beard approaching Jones' desk. He wasnt the tallest but his sheer girth in muscle made him an intimidating presence. The captain looked a little more than pissed off, walking swiftly and deliberately towards the two, carrying two files in his right hand. He slammed them on the desk in front of the two detectives. "Last night, the sick fuck killed a 23 year old girl. We just found her. Same M.O. as before. Goddammit, Myles you have to find something. You've been at this long enough to know that if this continues, the public will be up our asses so fast, we are gonna have to shit out our dicks. Get to it."
He turned and walked out, shaking his head.
"McCready is such a hard ass," Jones said.
"Just let it go. He's under a lot of stress. He knows we are doing everything we can. Lets hit it. I wanna check this out before the scene is trampled by the fucking press."
"Good call," Jones shouted behind Myles as he grabbed his coat and hurried out, trailing the old detective. "Lets pray we find something on this one."
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)