Apr. 14 - written by Christopher Rohan

Week 19

4-11-22 - Prompt: Floor

Ding! The elevator door slid open with a squeal. Rudy Rudd, P.I., glanced up from his notepad covered in the scribbles he called handwriting. It was nonsensical to everyone else not only for his sloppy penmanship, but also for the shorthand he’d use. It’s why he’d never kept a secretary for very long. It was his way and it was effective. 

He surveyed the elevator with a grimace. He always hated heights, especially the heights he couldn’t see. His imagination would make much of the opportunity. Now, he was stepping into an elevator that was at least a century old. He figured late nineteen-nineties because of the quick and unimaginative corporate expansion that occurred. All those buildings transformed into low-income housing in the mid twenty first century. It hadn’t been updated or renovated since the buildout of the individual apartments.

Rudd took a deep breath before stepping onto the lift and the give in the cables at the weight of his thin frame set his stomach to turning. His mind began spinning as he retreated to the corner to hold the uncomfortable, rectangular handrails. The door began to shut with an equally discomforting grinding as he slowly breathed in and out the musty air coming off the century old, rubbed-to-near-nothing carpet. Just before the door closed, a large green hand slid between the door and its jam. The squealing returned and he tried to escape his torment. Before he could, however, the mass of a brute attached to the hand lumbered into the door.

“Out of the way, slim,” came his voice, thick and gurgling, and before Rudd could exit, the floor was sinking under the massive weight and the door was grinding closed. “Thirteen, please,” gurgled the fat creature.

“Eh, what?” replied Rudd.

“Thirteenth floor,” returned the gurgle.

“Right,” Rudd exasperatedly complied, and he remembered why he was there.

The creaking of the lift would have undone him there and then, but his mind returned to the task at hand. Slowly he began to run through the case. A young woman had hired him, after the sound of gunshots were heard around the time that her brother should’ve returned from work. His work was what caused suspicion in her as he was a lackey for a major crime boss in that part of town. He never came home. She’d hired him because the police wouldn’t do anything for the likes of her brother. Rudd was the virtuous sort that hated evil doings regardless of the victims. It’s what made him good at what he did.

4-12-22 - Prompt: Murky

Harold peered down the river bank. The water was shallow, but it was there. Much of what he’d usually come across was dried up a long time ago. He looked at its length. It flowed from the south. That was good. Its source was in clean country. Looking back to the north, the sky was blue with a tinge of green haze near the horizon.  

The sun hung high and its heat was intense. Harold had til sundown before he’d have to get back indoors. His safety was a cave, walled in by scrap he’d gathered over the course of a few years. he’d wandered before that. The cave had a natural water supply, runoff from the uplands to the east and south. His water was running dry, however, and he’d either have to stay and hope, or leave his home of the last nine years.

The river was a good sign. Its muddy waters spoke of rainfall. He needed to investigate further, but the timing was wrong. It had taken him four hours to get to this little sign and he’d need another three and a half to get back. Now that he knew where to go the way back would be easier. After he’d traveled it several times he’d be able to cut that by another half hour. Gazing at the sun and measuring against the horizon he estimated that he’d have an hour to do what he needed.

The river must have been large in better days. Its old banks were steep and the gorge that was left behind dropped about ten feet before a much more shallow slope. He approached  the edge with caution. Old and dusty river rocks began to unsettle and tumble down even while he was a few feet from the edge. He surveyed again the river’s course to find a much more feasible grade, not only to get down, but also to climb back up. The last thing he wanted was to be trapped when the sun went down. He’d encountered them once before and that was all it took to teach him caution. 

4-13-22 - Prompt: Oranges

Art and Ricky glided their bikes into the driveway to the familiar sound of their sister’s raucous tea parties. On the front lawn, Suzy sat at a small table with all of her favorite stuffies as well as Juniper the next door neighbor. 

“Pass the sugar!” cried Suzy with a laugh as Juniper threw the bowl directly at her, “Ms. Snuffles, mind your manners! This is high society, and I wont have that sort of behavior at tea time.”

Juniper stopped laughing as the boys rolled up, “Oh, hi Ricky!” she shouted with an emphatic wave. Ricky groaned as Art laughed and made smoochy sounds. 

“Is Ms. Snuffles not acting with civility again, Suzy?” questioned Art.

“No, she is not,” Suzy replied with her best attempt at the Queen’s English, “but I thought to give her another chance.”

“Very gracious of you, miss,” interjected Ricky.

“Mom’s inside,” Suzy said without the accent, “said she’d need some help with the groceries.”

“Thanks, Sue,” the boys replied.

“Bye, Ricky!” Juniper shouted with a nervous smile.

“Say goodbye, Ricky,” Art goaded.

“Bye, June,” and June swooned.

The boys had on their mind to ask their mom for permission to go to the fireworks show that evening. It would be well passed dark when the show would finish and it was a school night. It was a long shot, but they thought to sweeten the deal with a little help around the house that afternoon. 

“Hi boys,” came their mom’s lilting voice as they came in the garage door just off the kitchen, “how was school?”

“Same as always,” came Art’s gruff reply and Ricky smacked him to remind his of the task at hand. “Sorry,” he whispered to his brother with a grimace.

“Why don’t you help me with these groceries and you can tell me about it. I already brought them in, you just have to put them away.”

“Sure thing, mom,” they replied in unison and their mom chuckled they way she always did when they did that sort of thing.

Over the next half hour the boys reached all the groceries into all the nooks, crannies, high shelves, and low cupboards they were supposed to go. Except a few oddities that had no place.

“I can’t believe those boys keep getting away with the stuff they do,” their mom stated after the twins shared about what the Wiffle Boys did that day.

“Well, none of the adults see it,” began Art.

“Yeah, and they are very well organized,” Ricky said with a tinge of admiration. Art looked at him with consternation. “What?” Ricky replied with indignation, “I can’t say that they’re good at something?”

Art shook his head, “What about these oranges, mom? Where do you want them? And, can we have some?” Both boys looked at their mom with pitiable smiles.

“Hmmm, put them in the bowl on the table, and yes, you can each have one.”

4-14-22 - Prompt: Sweltering

The high sun poured down his heat unhindered by even a hint of cloud. I’d lost my bowler several miles back. Those made little difference, but I wore my hair much shorter in those days and even a bowler would’ve done some good with the sun so high. The dark man looked back from beneath his wide, flat brim with some pity, but not enough to stop him from dragging me along. The gold he’d wanted was securely locked within the vault, but that hadn’t stopped him. I valued my young life well enough to let the man do as he would and I helped him get what he wanted. He had filled three large leather sacks with the Puebloan dainties and now they swung at the haunches of his brown and white dappled horse.

“Might we stop?” I’d asked.

“Not if you value your life as much as you did in the bank,” the gruff man replied.

“What is it you plan to do with me?”

“It’s not so much with you as for you,” was his cryptic reply.

“And how is dragging me into the blazing desert at midday meant to be for me?” I’d shouted more to the heavens than to the man, so exhausted I was from the heat and the walk.

“I hear what yer sayin’, young sir, and I don’t mean to withhold, but you might consider what Sutton might do if he found you alive and well and all his ill-gotten gold gone.”

“Well, I’m sure he’d understand,” I’d began, “and besides the bank has policies in place and insurances to cover such events.”

“Not these,” he’d replied, “I can tell you that no policies or insurances will cover these.” 

“That doesn’t mean Mr. Sutton would be hostile,” I said with heavy breath as my feet fell heavy on the dusty ground.

“You might ask that of the village he’d slaughtered to first acquire this gold,” he stated, and the pity was gone from his voice, and something like grief took its place.

I still didn’t understand. He’d taken me and bound me to his saddle with a long rope that wrapped around my wrists. He was a ruffian to be sure, but he acted gentler than what his facade would prescribe. I was inclined to think him kind at heart, but all that had taken place that day caused some question in me. 

Mr. Sutton seemed as normal a banker as others I’ve known. He was given to drink more than I’d like, but he always was professional, though perhaps a little paranoid. He’d kept a strong guard at the bank. It wasn’t just me. The man in the flat brimmed hat must have had his plans in place, because when the guard stepped out and a replacement didn’t come, he’d strolled in without a worry or concern in the world, though he was about dangerous business.