Episode 53
Synchro
“I’ll talk to you later,” said David. He glanced knowingly at Synch and left the room.
Cindy edged her way closer to the bed.
The searing pain in his rear-end ebbed a little.
“How are you feeling?”
Everyone asks the same question. Must be a highly contagious ‘how are you feeling virus’ going around.
“Getting there,” he answered.
Her eyes sweetly captivated him.
“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” she said.
The drugs were having a weird effect on him. He kept hearing the same things over and over.
He vaguely remembered her words when the ambos attended him.
“How so?” he said.
“As I started to tell you my mother’s a wiccan. I rang her from Seymour and asked her to cast a spell of protection over you, us I mean,” Cindy explained.
“Didn’t work for me,” Synch put in.
“She says it did.” Cindy was serious. “She says you would have copped something much worse without the spell.”
“Do you believe in that stuff?” he asked.
She shrugged.
“Don’t know. There’s a constant stream of co-incidences in Mum’s life that could be put down to her witch activities.”
Synch thought, ‘Yeah, hogwash.’
“It can’t hurt. She’s a white witch, won’t have anything to do with black magic,” said Cindy.
“Heaven forbid,” said Synch flippantly.
One side of her mouth curved up.
Her hands were on the bed beside him. He reached over and took one in his own.
“Tell her thanks for helping,” he said.
The curve spread to the other side of her mouth, a mouth waiting to be kissed. He saw her look at his own mouth. The tip of her tongue moistened her lower lip, an invitation if ever he saw one. He gently pulled her arm across him, lowering her to him. She smelled of flowers. Her arm was warm across his body. Her lips were so close to his he could almost feel their warmth with his own…
The door slammed back against the wall.
“I’m Doctor Harry Smythe-Jones,” said the tall casually clad man pulling the chart from it’s holder at the foot of the bed. Two nurses followed him at close quarters. “I’d like to look at your wound and must ask the young lady to leave the room.”
“Fine,” Synch mumbled as if he had any say in the matter.
Continued…
By Diane L Wood
Writer
My Bio: http://write-intention.com/Diane_L_Wood.html
A Short Short Story: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=9
A Short Short Story: http://ancientearthashortstory.blogspot.com/
A Fun Page: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=47
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Sunday, April 26, 2009
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Episode 52: Sorry
Episode 52
Synchro
Rays of morning light jabbed his eyes. Someone opened the curtains. The brightness pierced the back of his eye-balls.
“Good morning.”
Synch hesitated pulling his hand from his eyes to find out exactly who the familiar voice belonged to.
“How are you feeling?” said David Finestra.
“Fantastic,” Synch breathed, carefully moving his legs.
“Sorry you got shot,” said David. “It wasn’t supposed to happen.”
Synch's eyes narrowed. He wished he’d stop hearing that phrase.
He waited for an explanation.
“Will planted a listening device under your kitchen bench. Our guys were listening to you out front in an unmarked van. When you said ‘David’ then heard the rap music they thought it was me and called to confirm it. I answered my phone just as they heard the shot. The mistaken identity slowed their response time by a few minutes. Sorry.”
“Yeah, well, I did insist on going home,” said Synch. His face wrinkled as he re-arranged his legs. “How’s David Buchanan?”
“Still breathing, with help,” said David.
All this because of a Last will and Testament thought Synch.
The door slowly opened.
Cindy peeped in.
God, she was beautiful.
Continued…
By Diane L Wood
Writer
My Bio: http://write-intention.com/Diane_L_Wood.html
A Short Short Story: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=9
A Short Short Story: http://ancientearthashortstory.blogspot.com/
A Fun Page: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=47
(You may need to copy and paste these to your browser’s address bar.)
Synchro
Rays of morning light jabbed his eyes. Someone opened the curtains. The brightness pierced the back of his eye-balls.
“Good morning.”
Synch hesitated pulling his hand from his eyes to find out exactly who the familiar voice belonged to.
“How are you feeling?” said David Finestra.
“Fantastic,” Synch breathed, carefully moving his legs.
“Sorry you got shot,” said David. “It wasn’t supposed to happen.”
Synch's eyes narrowed. He wished he’d stop hearing that phrase.
He waited for an explanation.
“Will planted a listening device under your kitchen bench. Our guys were listening to you out front in an unmarked van. When you said ‘David’ then heard the rap music they thought it was me and called to confirm it. I answered my phone just as they heard the shot. The mistaken identity slowed their response time by a few minutes. Sorry.”
“Yeah, well, I did insist on going home,” said Synch. His face wrinkled as he re-arranged his legs. “How’s David Buchanan?”
“Still breathing, with help,” said David.
All this because of a Last will and Testament thought Synch.
The door slowly opened.
Cindy peeped in.
God, she was beautiful.
Continued…
By Diane L Wood
Writer
My Bio: http://write-intention.com/Diane_L_Wood.html
A Short Short Story: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=9
A Short Short Story: http://ancientearthashortstory.blogspot.com/
A Fun Page: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=47
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Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Episode 51: Green Blobs
Episode 51
Synchro
A tongue of balled tissue paper. A dry mouth. Blurry green blobs, moving. Bipping.
“Are you a witch?” Synch asked.
“I don’t think so,” one of the green blobs said.
“It’s the third time he’s asked that,” said another blob.
A body, well part of one.
“How are you feeling?”
Synch lay on his side.
“Can’t feel much,” he answered. His throat was so dry he couldn’t swallow.
His vision cleared quickly. He looked around frowning.
“You’re in post op,” said the male nurse. He checked Synch’s pulse and blood pressure.
“You’ll be taken to a ward soon. We need to keep an eye on you for a while first.”
Synch rolled onto his back.
“Arrrgh!” He quickly rolled on his side.
“Sit-ups will be off your exercise regime for a while,” said the nurse.
Synch winced. The pain lingered.
His stomach rumbled. It felt empty. It was complaining.
“Feel a bit peculiar in the stomach,” said Synch.
“Nauseous?” said the nurse. He strategically placed a stiff rimmed plastic bag under Synch’s mouth just in time to catch the air expelled with each heave. His body continued convulsing in vomitous motion. A brief conversation between the nurses was blotted out by Synch’s involuntary retching.
“This should stop it,” he heard. He felt a sharp prick in his thigh. Minutes later the vomiting stopped.
His eye-lids felt loaded with lead.
“Might make you a bit drowsy,” said the nurse.
“Apparently, I don’t do drowsy,” Synch said as he sank into a sound sleep.
Continued…
By Diane L Wood
Writer
My Bio: http://write-intention.com/Diane_L_Wood.html
A Short Short Story: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=9
A Short Short Story: http://ancientearthashortstory.blogspot.com/
A Fun Page: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=47
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Synchro
A tongue of balled tissue paper. A dry mouth. Blurry green blobs, moving. Bipping.
“Are you a witch?” Synch asked.
“I don’t think so,” one of the green blobs said.
“It’s the third time he’s asked that,” said another blob.
A body, well part of one.
“How are you feeling?”
Synch lay on his side.
“Can’t feel much,” he answered. His throat was so dry he couldn’t swallow.
His vision cleared quickly. He looked around frowning.
“You’re in post op,” said the male nurse. He checked Synch’s pulse and blood pressure.
“You’ll be taken to a ward soon. We need to keep an eye on you for a while first.”
Synch rolled onto his back.
“Arrrgh!” He quickly rolled on his side.
“Sit-ups will be off your exercise regime for a while,” said the nurse.
Synch winced. The pain lingered.
His stomach rumbled. It felt empty. It was complaining.
“Feel a bit peculiar in the stomach,” said Synch.
“Nauseous?” said the nurse. He strategically placed a stiff rimmed plastic bag under Synch’s mouth just in time to catch the air expelled with each heave. His body continued convulsing in vomitous motion. A brief conversation between the nurses was blotted out by Synch’s involuntary retching.
“This should stop it,” he heard. He felt a sharp prick in his thigh. Minutes later the vomiting stopped.
His eye-lids felt loaded with lead.
“Might make you a bit drowsy,” said the nurse.
“Apparently, I don’t do drowsy,” Synch said as he sank into a sound sleep.
Continued…
By Diane L Wood
Writer
My Bio: http://write-intention.com/Diane_L_Wood.html
A Short Short Story: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=9
A Short Short Story: http://ancientearthashortstory.blogspot.com/
A Fun Page: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=47
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Monday, April 13, 2009
Episode 50: Shot
Episode 50
Synchro
“Oh, shit,” said Synch from the bedroom floor.
“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” said Cindy from the floor beside him.
They heard indiscernible yelling muted by the rap music, another gun-shot and a thump.
The rap was cut.
“…ambulance... ...shot and unconscious…,“ came from the other room.
Synch remained on his stomach.
“Shit, my arse hurts,” he said.
He heard Cindy gasp.
“You’re bleeding,” she said. “Lots.” Her voice broke into snivels. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”
“Apply pressure will you before I bleed to death.”
They heard a chorus of sirens.
She flattened her hand on his buttock and pressed hard.
He stiffened and sucked in air.
She drew back a little.
“Press hard,” he said.
They heard doors open, footsteps and talking in the other room.
“What do you mean ‘this wasn’t supposed to happen’?” said Synch.
“My mother’s a witch,” she said through tears. She wiped her runny nose with the back of her free hand.
“My mother can be a bit that way too sometimes,” he said.
They heard car doors. Sirens droned to a stop and more car doors slamming.
“Quick, there’s no heart beat,” said someone standing at the front door. Fast paced footsteps entered the house. Synch half turned, looked back and saw two paramedics fly past. He blinked. Did one of them have short dread-locks and multiple face piercing?
“…over on his back… …start pumping.”
“I mean my mother is a real witch, a white witch, a wiccan,” said Cindy.
Someone was singing in the other room. The words were familiar. It was rock and roll.
Two other paramedics stood in the bedroom doorway. They spotted the blood under Cindy’s hand.
“Another victim in here,” one said over his shoulder to the others in the main room. They came in and put their boxes of medical equipment beside Synch. One moved Cindy’s hand a little. Fresh blood flowed copiously onto the carpet. “Keep pressing,” he said to Cindy.
The singing continued next door.
“Are you in pain,” the paramedic asked Synch.
“I’ve been shot in the arse. Of course I’m in pain.”
The medic opened his medical box.
One sterile gloved hand gave Synch a short flat plastic thing. There was a hole in the end of it.
“Put this to your lips and breath in through your mouth,” he instructed Synch. “It’s a pain killer.”
Synch did so.
“Who’s singing?” Synch asked. He felt light, all over.
“Angus. He’s a bit weird but an excellent medic,” came the answer.
“Why is he singing,” asked Cindy.
“He sings songs with a particular beat. Says the rhythm helps with timing chest compressions,” said the medic. “When I say ‘now’ remove your hand,” he said to Cindy. “Now.”
Synch couldn’t see what the medic had done.
The singing continued. Synch liked the guy’s voice.
“Does that hurt?” he asked Synch.
“A little,” said Synch. The room was lop-sided.
“Have another suck on that.”
Synch sucked on the lump of plastic and before he breathed out the room swirled around and around.
“Wh-hot were you thaying about y-hor Mum?” he asked Cindy.
“Stay with us,” the medic said loudly to Synch.
“…trying…” Synch managed.
“Most people don’t get drowsy when they use that,” said the medic. “You must be sensitive to drugs are you?”
“Don’t…. know,” Synch answered.
He was drifting off.
Sleep! Yeah, that’s what he needed.
He’d miss the singing.
His body felt lighter than air.
It was nice. He was so-o-o relaxed.
His eye-lids were heavy.
He was far away from… Cindy… the singing… the pain.
The last thing he remembered before unconsciousness consumed him was the voice singing in the next room.
“Another one bites the dust…”
Continued…
By Diane L Wood
Writer
My Bio: http://write-intention.com/Diane_L_Wood.html
A Short Short Story: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=9
A Short Short Story: http://ancientearthashortstory.blogspot.com/
A Fun Page: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=47
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Synchro
“Oh, shit,” said Synch from the bedroom floor.
“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” said Cindy from the floor beside him.
They heard indiscernible yelling muted by the rap music, another gun-shot and a thump.
The rap was cut.
“…ambulance... ...shot and unconscious…,“ came from the other room.
Synch remained on his stomach.
“Shit, my arse hurts,” he said.
He heard Cindy gasp.
“You’re bleeding,” she said. “Lots.” Her voice broke into snivels. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”
“Apply pressure will you before I bleed to death.”
They heard a chorus of sirens.
She flattened her hand on his buttock and pressed hard.
He stiffened and sucked in air.
She drew back a little.
“Press hard,” he said.
They heard doors open, footsteps and talking in the other room.
“What do you mean ‘this wasn’t supposed to happen’?” said Synch.
“My mother’s a witch,” she said through tears. She wiped her runny nose with the back of her free hand.
“My mother can be a bit that way too sometimes,” he said.
They heard car doors. Sirens droned to a stop and more car doors slamming.
“Quick, there’s no heart beat,” said someone standing at the front door. Fast paced footsteps entered the house. Synch half turned, looked back and saw two paramedics fly past. He blinked. Did one of them have short dread-locks and multiple face piercing?
“…over on his back… …start pumping.”
“I mean my mother is a real witch, a white witch, a wiccan,” said Cindy.
Someone was singing in the other room. The words were familiar. It was rock and roll.
Two other paramedics stood in the bedroom doorway. They spotted the blood under Cindy’s hand.
“Another victim in here,” one said over his shoulder to the others in the main room. They came in and put their boxes of medical equipment beside Synch. One moved Cindy’s hand a little. Fresh blood flowed copiously onto the carpet. “Keep pressing,” he said to Cindy.
The singing continued next door.
“Are you in pain,” the paramedic asked Synch.
“I’ve been shot in the arse. Of course I’m in pain.”
The medic opened his medical box.
One sterile gloved hand gave Synch a short flat plastic thing. There was a hole in the end of it.
“Put this to your lips and breath in through your mouth,” he instructed Synch. “It’s a pain killer.”
Synch did so.
“Who’s singing?” Synch asked. He felt light, all over.
“Angus. He’s a bit weird but an excellent medic,” came the answer.
“Why is he singing,” asked Cindy.
“He sings songs with a particular beat. Says the rhythm helps with timing chest compressions,” said the medic. “When I say ‘now’ remove your hand,” he said to Cindy. “Now.”
Synch couldn’t see what the medic had done.
The singing continued. Synch liked the guy’s voice.
“Does that hurt?” he asked Synch.
“A little,” said Synch. The room was lop-sided.
“Have another suck on that.”
Synch sucked on the lump of plastic and before he breathed out the room swirled around and around.
“Wh-hot were you thaying about y-hor Mum?” he asked Cindy.
“Stay with us,” the medic said loudly to Synch.
“…trying…” Synch managed.
“Most people don’t get drowsy when they use that,” said the medic. “You must be sensitive to drugs are you?”
“Don’t…. know,” Synch answered.
He was drifting off.
Sleep! Yeah, that’s what he needed.
He’d miss the singing.
His body felt lighter than air.
It was nice. He was so-o-o relaxed.
His eye-lids were heavy.
He was far away from… Cindy… the singing… the pain.
The last thing he remembered before unconsciousness consumed him was the voice singing in the next room.
“Another one bites the dust…”
Continued…
By Diane L Wood
Writer
My Bio: http://write-intention.com/Diane_L_Wood.html
A Short Short Story: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=9
A Short Short Story: http://ancientearthashortstory.blogspot.com/
A Fun Page: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=47
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Episode 49: Unwelcome Visitor
Episode 49
Synchro
“Hey, Synchro,” said David Buchanan. His thick silhouette filled the doorway. “I brought you something.” He pushed the door shut with his foot and shoved a CD player on the kitchen bench. “Want to hear it?” He turned it on without waiting for a reply. From the oversized speakers rap music blared making conversation difficult.
“GREAT ISN’T IT,” David shouted against the rabble.
Synch stepped toward the unwelcome visitor intending to tell him to get out. As he did so the intruder pulled a hand-gun from his pocket. He flicked it at Synch who stepped back and in front of Cindy.
“TURN THAT OFF SO WE CAN TALK,” said Synch.
David shook his head.
“YOUR PLAIN-CLOTHED FRIENDS UNDOUBTEDLY LEFT A BUG,” he said. “THE NOISE STAYS.”
“IF THIS IS ABOUT THE WILL,” said Synch. “I HAVE NO INTENTION OF ACCEPTING YOUR MOTHER’S ESTATE.”
“SHE TIED IT UP SO YOU HAVE NO OPTION,” David scowled. “EXCEPT IF YOU’RE DEAD.” He raised the gun aiming for Synch’s chest.
“I DON’T WANT IT,” said Synch taking a half pace back and moving Cindy toward the right. She was still behind him. They were level with the front bedroom door-way. He let go of her and kept both hands behind him.
“I’LL FIND SOME WAY OF GETTING IT ALL TO YOU,” Synch went on. Behind his back he pointed to the bedroom then held out three fingers. Christ he hoped Cindy got his message.
“YOU CAN’T,” said David.
Synch held out one finger.
“I’VE BEEN TO THREE DIFFERENT SOLICITORS,” David said relaxing his gun a little.
“THERE’S GOT TO BE A WAY,” said Synch. He held out two fingers.
“WE’LL JUST KEEP ASKING SOLICITOR AFTER SOLICITOR TILL WE FIND A WAY,” said Synch. He held out three fingers.
Cindy dived for the bedroom.
Synch dived too.
At the same instant David squeezed the trigger.
Continued…
By Diane L Wood
Writer
My Bio: http://write-intention.com/Diane_L_Wood.html
A Short Short Story: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=9
A Short Short Story: http://ancientearthashortstory.blogspot.com/
A Fun Page: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=47
(You may need to copy and paste these to your browser’s address bar.)
Synchro
“Hey, Synchro,” said David Buchanan. His thick silhouette filled the doorway. “I brought you something.” He pushed the door shut with his foot and shoved a CD player on the kitchen bench. “Want to hear it?” He turned it on without waiting for a reply. From the oversized speakers rap music blared making conversation difficult.
“GREAT ISN’T IT,” David shouted against the rabble.
Synch stepped toward the unwelcome visitor intending to tell him to get out. As he did so the intruder pulled a hand-gun from his pocket. He flicked it at Synch who stepped back and in front of Cindy.
“TURN THAT OFF SO WE CAN TALK,” said Synch.
David shook his head.
“YOUR PLAIN-CLOTHED FRIENDS UNDOUBTEDLY LEFT A BUG,” he said. “THE NOISE STAYS.”
“IF THIS IS ABOUT THE WILL,” said Synch. “I HAVE NO INTENTION OF ACCEPTING YOUR MOTHER’S ESTATE.”
“SHE TIED IT UP SO YOU HAVE NO OPTION,” David scowled. “EXCEPT IF YOU’RE DEAD.” He raised the gun aiming for Synch’s chest.
“I DON’T WANT IT,” said Synch taking a half pace back and moving Cindy toward the right. She was still behind him. They were level with the front bedroom door-way. He let go of her and kept both hands behind him.
“I’LL FIND SOME WAY OF GETTING IT ALL TO YOU,” Synch went on. Behind his back he pointed to the bedroom then held out three fingers. Christ he hoped Cindy got his message.
“YOU CAN’T,” said David.
Synch held out one finger.
“I’VE BEEN TO THREE DIFFERENT SOLICITORS,” David said relaxing his gun a little.
“THERE’S GOT TO BE A WAY,” said Synch. He held out two fingers.
“WE’LL JUST KEEP ASKING SOLICITOR AFTER SOLICITOR TILL WE FIND A WAY,” said Synch. He held out three fingers.
Cindy dived for the bedroom.
Synch dived too.
At the same instant David squeezed the trigger.
Continued…
By Diane L Wood
Writer
My Bio: http://write-intention.com/Diane_L_Wood.html
A Short Short Story: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=9
A Short Short Story: http://ancientearthashortstory.blogspot.com/
A Fun Page: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=47
(You may need to copy and paste these to your browser’s address bar.)
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Episode 48: Home - Safe!
Episode 48
Synchro
David Finestra reported to his superiors as they sped along the highway toward Melbourne. No other words were spoken during the hour long trip.
Synchro didn’t care what either detective thought. He knew what he knew and it was time to trust his knowledge.
The four got out of the car at Synch’s place. His flat was at the front of a block of four ground level units.
“We’d like to check inside,” said David.
Synch thought it was unnecessary.
“You’ve been away over-night, long enough for someone to gain entry,” the detective added.
Synch saw his point and unlocked the door.
David and Will inspected the bedrooms, bathroom and did a quick scan out the back.
Nothing was amiss.
“If anything unusual happens, even an odd noise, call me,” said David.
Synch and Cindy had their backs to Will and didn’t see what he was doing. He was in the kitchen, at the bench, with his back toward to them.
“You have my mobile number in your speed dial,” David added. “Use it.”
Synch agreed and opened the front door. The detectives exchanged glances a triffle longer than they should have.
They took the hint and left.
Cindy and Synch watched through the window as the detectives drove off.
“You don’t need their protection,” she said turning to Synch.
Flowers. Yeah, she smelled lightly of some kind of flower. Must be her hair. And musk, natural musk. It was bringing his senses to life, and other things. He wanted to slowly undress her and kiss her all over starting with her left ear lobe.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
‘THU-UMK.’
‘BANGHK.’
The back door banged open and smashed against the wall.
“David!” said Synch.
Continued…
By Diane L Wood
Writer
My Bio: http://write-intention.com/Diane_L_Wood.html
A Short Short Story: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=9
A Short Short Story: http://ancientearthashortstory.blogspot.com/
A Fun Page: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=47
(You may need to copy and paste these to your browser’s address bar.)
Synchro
David Finestra reported to his superiors as they sped along the highway toward Melbourne. No other words were spoken during the hour long trip.
Synchro didn’t care what either detective thought. He knew what he knew and it was time to trust his knowledge.
The four got out of the car at Synch’s place. His flat was at the front of a block of four ground level units.
“We’d like to check inside,” said David.
Synch thought it was unnecessary.
“You’ve been away over-night, long enough for someone to gain entry,” the detective added.
Synch saw his point and unlocked the door.
David and Will inspected the bedrooms, bathroom and did a quick scan out the back.
Nothing was amiss.
“If anything unusual happens, even an odd noise, call me,” said David.
Synch and Cindy had their backs to Will and didn’t see what he was doing. He was in the kitchen, at the bench, with his back toward to them.
“You have my mobile number in your speed dial,” David added. “Use it.”
Synch agreed and opened the front door. The detectives exchanged glances a triffle longer than they should have.
They took the hint and left.
Cindy and Synch watched through the window as the detectives drove off.
“You don’t need their protection,” she said turning to Synch.
Flowers. Yeah, she smelled lightly of some kind of flower. Must be her hair. And musk, natural musk. It was bringing his senses to life, and other things. He wanted to slowly undress her and kiss her all over starting with her left ear lobe.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
‘THU-UMK.’
‘BANGHK.’
The back door banged open and smashed against the wall.
“David!” said Synch.
Continued…
By Diane L Wood
Writer
My Bio: http://write-intention.com/Diane_L_Wood.html
A Short Short Story: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=9
A Short Short Story: http://ancientearthashortstory.blogspot.com/
A Fun Page: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=47
(You may need to copy and paste these to your browser’s address bar.)
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Episode 47: Home, Now!
Have a happy, safe Easter break everyone.
Episode 47
Synchro
The quartette digested his words.
“You know what?” said Synch facing David and Will. “It could be David Buchanan or Ryan Sturges or you Will or you David or someone we haven’t even thought of who has it in for me.” His voice grew in volume. “I don’t care anymore. I’ve had enough. Take me home.”
“Settle down,” said David.
“Take me home now,” Synch demanded.
“We can’t do that while you’re a target,” said David.
“Now,” Synch repeated.
The detectives stared at Synch.
“What about Cindy?” said David.
Synch laced his fingers through hers.
“She comes with me, if she wants to,” said Synch looking at her for confirmation.
“That’s not what I meant,” said David.
Synch and Cindy frowned nutting out his meaning.
Synch’s eyes narrowed.
“I told you she’s honest,” said Synch.
Cindy looked down from under dark lashes and bit her bottom lip.
He stood up holding her hand firmly and helped her to her feet.
“Take us home now David or we’ll hitchhike,” said Synch.
Continued…
By Diane L Wood
Writer
My Bio: http://write-intention.com/Diane_L_Wood.html
A Short Short Story: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=9
A Short Short Story: http://ancientearthashortstory.blogspot.com/
A Fun Page: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=47
(You may need to copy and paste these to your browser’s address bar.)
Episode 47
Synchro
The quartette digested his words.
“You know what?” said Synch facing David and Will. “It could be David Buchanan or Ryan Sturges or you Will or you David or someone we haven’t even thought of who has it in for me.” His voice grew in volume. “I don’t care anymore. I’ve had enough. Take me home.”
“Settle down,” said David.
“Take me home now,” Synch demanded.
“We can’t do that while you’re a target,” said David.
“Now,” Synch repeated.
The detectives stared at Synch.
“What about Cindy?” said David.
Synch laced his fingers through hers.
“She comes with me, if she wants to,” said Synch looking at her for confirmation.
“That’s not what I meant,” said David.
Synch and Cindy frowned nutting out his meaning.
Synch’s eyes narrowed.
“I told you she’s honest,” said Synch.
Cindy looked down from under dark lashes and bit her bottom lip.
He stood up holding her hand firmly and helped her to her feet.
“Take us home now David or we’ll hitchhike,” said Synch.
Continued…
By Diane L Wood
Writer
My Bio: http://write-intention.com/Diane_L_Wood.html
A Short Short Story: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=9
A Short Short Story: http://ancientearthashortstory.blogspot.com/
A Fun Page: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=47
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