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fairie2002
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#1
Old 01-13-2008, 02:58 PM

I don't usually write short stories so I'd love to hear what you think about it and how it could be improved. :3

Dark Intent

Life is a mere dream, a fleeting shadow on a cloudy day.

The luxuries he bought himself were the only things that comforted him. As long as he kept telling himself that the things he bought justified what he did to get them, the guilt would hopefully never catch up to him. After all, that was why he was one of the best at what he did. He was a top notch prosecutor, condemning criminals to jail, or at least whoever was unfortunate enough to end up as his top suspect. He only had to convince twelve jury members that the man was guilty, that didn’t mean he had to believe it himself. It was probably easier that way.

Jack Valentine was currently lounging around in his elegant living room, reading over the papers for another case. It was a simple room, which was composed of a sofa, television, table and lamp. Nonetheless, all of these items were either designer or at the very least very expensive. Neatly lying on his clear glass table was today’s paper, which he hadn’t looked at yet. He knew they would report about his last case, which involved the murders of three women. They weren’t brutal per say, but they were far from tasteful. He needed to find the person responsible, and he wasn’t about to let his perfect record get tarnished. And so, he had found some poor chum who was at the wrong place at the wrong time, and got him convicted on the grounds that he had just gotten out of a mental institution, with the testimonies of a doctor who believed he was still unstable. In reality, the doctor would rather do anything than have word get out that he had been stealing drugs from the hospital’s supply, which the man had swore that he would report. Nonetheless, it was his only chance to win and he had taken it. Otherwise, his case would have been ripped at its seams.

RING! RING! RING!

He cocked his head towards the phone, swiftly getting up and walking across the dark cherry floor to pick up the phone. “This is Jack Valentine speaking.” He answered in his usual silky voice, one that had helped him get out of many sticky situations.
“Jack, its Robert. I’m afraid I have some bad news…” Robert was the current chief of police, whom he had close ties with. He was always there for him whenever he needed a favour. His ice blue eyes glanced at the circular clock hanging above the door, and he noticed that it was around eight. He wondered what this was about, as it couldn’t obviously pertain to his current case. The victim was already dead, and he hadn’t even started looking for witnesses. However, Robert sounded pretty grim. “What is it?” He asked, staying calm. What did he have to worry about?
“Well, it seems we’ve found another body. And it looks…” He didn’t even have to finish. Jack somehow knew that the body would match the pattern of the other three women, which would not be good news for him. He had supposedly already put the killer behind bars. All three of them had ‘committed suicide’, but there would always be some circumstance which would rule that out. They were only murders made to look like suicides. “What happened?” He continued without hesitation, as if he wasn’t worried just yet.
“She ‘fell’ from the roof of the building, there was a figure spotted by the people watching, and…”
And? As if a few witnesses weren’t bad enough. He’d have to pull a miracle to stop from having his career crash and burn. If it was found that the killer was still out there and he had sent an innocent man to jail… it would be all over for him. Jack didn’t dare answer this time, but instead waited to hear the horrible news.
“There were signs of a struggle and there was a strand of hair found on her clothes, and once it’s analyzed, we should know who it was.” Then there was silence between the both of them, as if there was nothing left to say. “I’m so sorry Jack…”

“I am too, Robert.” He said with a tinge of sorrow in his voice, promptly hanging up. He owed Robert for giving him a head’s up, not that he didn’t owe him already. His license would have already been revoked if it wasn’t for him. But now, what could he do? He was trying his best to stay calm, but that wasn’t easy. How could he cover this up? It was one thing to make evidence disappear, or to divert suspicion, but to make a few witnesses go away? He closed his eyes, trying to breath at a steady rate once again. His heart thumped loudly, which made it feel like his whole body was pulsing.

His eyelids slowly fluttered open, and everything seemed normal. He gently exhaled, feeling he had calmed down. He would find a way out of this, he knew he would. He had been in tough situations before. Slowly, his eyes fixated on the light lavender walls… They were… They were closing in on him. He hadn’t noticed it at first because he had been focusing on the headlines of the newspaper, which seemed to mock him. The big bold headlines that praised his victory, but whom would love nothing better than to see him fall. The walls inched closer and closer every moment, as if they were on hourglass that was slowly ticking away. His face was white as a ghost, and his eyes seemed to curiously focus on one single object: a letter opener that was idly lying on the table. The table itself emitted a strange glow, and it seemed as if he could pass his hand right through it, as if it was thin as air. The knife, on the other hand, seemed shinier than any precious gem he’d ever seen, it glistened even though there was only a faint light on. And quite suddenly, he snatched it from the table, and it was as cold as ice but nonetheless it felt that it was his only means of defending himself. The walls seemed like they were about to crush him at any moment. His hand lunged at the wall, puncturing his painting. His original Modigliani painting that had cost what many made in a few years. His hand seemed to have a mind of its own, endlessly slashing the painting. There was a demon possessed within it, which was intent in having him watch the destruction of his most prized possession. He stood there paralyzed, utterly helpless and as pale as death. Soon the painting was completely in ruins and he gave out a pathetic whimper. No, it wasn’t possible… Not his precious painting…

He gripped the knife tightly, as if his very life depended on it. He clutched it, even as the tip still lay inside the painting. And then, anger boiled through his blood as he began to slash at the painting once more, leaving it now nearly unrecognisable. He panted, trying to let his mind process these events. However, his mind was filled with only destructive thoughts. He wanted to punish whoever had destroyed his painting. He stood still as a statue for a few moments, his beady eyes slowly dilating. His eyes were blacker than a moonless night, utterly consumed with his maniacal rage. Slowly, he raised the knife to the heavens, as if swearing that the deed would be done. And then with a swift move, he plunged the knife into his heart. He didn’t stumble, but instead just looked down at the wound. There was blood pouring out of it like a fierce waterfall, onto the ground. He stumbled backwards, landing on his snow white sofa. The blood flowed onto it, the white now turning into a deep shade of red. He began to laugh, a stifled quiet laugh at first, which quickly turned hollow and vain. He had won! Oh, how he had outsmarted them! They thought they could get the better of him? Well, they were wrong! Nobody, absolutely nobody got the better of Jack Valentine. He chuckled off into the night, enjoying his very last victory…

Justice had been served.

fairie2002
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#2
Old 01-13-2008, 10:18 PM

My other short story. :3

Another pile of bones

People were ignorant for a long time, troubling themselves with more minor hassles such as their pay check that never seemed high enough, or how their Friday night’s were always spent in front of the television with a tub of ice cream in one hand and a large spoon in the other. And then, tiny towns had minor power outages, nothing big. But soon, entire cities were having blackouts. There was a problem: there simply wasn’t enough power to sustain the country. The government needed to find a solution and fast, lest they face a re-election or the country suffers a mass blackout. They certainly didn’t want either course of action to happen. They had to find a solution, and fast. They began to get offers from many different companies proposing an energy source that could supply the need. They ranged from new ones that could either work brilliantly or there was the possibility it would fail miserably, there were some companies that they were already dealing with suggesting that they implant a few more dozen of their plants, but their was only something that would veer them away from it. Then, out of the blue there came a rather newfound company that had been doing research on a nuclear energy, and they had come up was astounding. They had come up with a method that decayed the waste at a much faster rate, so they could reuse it. Other than the high capital costs, it seemed as if the things would almost sustain itself. And with the problem looming over their heads like a dark cloud, they funded it.

Things went better than they expected, with all the country’s power up within a day of the completion of the plant. It had cost quite a bit of money to construct, but money did them no good while the country was in a state of emergency. Many other countries cried foul, suggesting that with the current technology that what they claimed to do wasn’t possible, but they refused to divulge their method. Nothing could be done anymore, as the plant had already been constructed and they weren’t about to shut it down now that they had a solution that worked.

It was a quiet evening at the plant, with most of the workers already gone home. Joe was making his daily rounds, cleaning up any spills that had been caused during the day and just doing general maintenance. He needed to make sure he did his job otherwise they would be hazards and could cause an accident, and he would lose his job. He hummed a Christmas tune, happy that the holidays were fast approaching and his son would be visiting from New York and he would be able to see his lovely grandchild once again.

Joe began to tour the facilities, mopping up any sludge or waste that he saw, and checking all the electric circuitry to make sure that everything was functioning correctly. It didn’t usually take him too long to finish his work, as there were janitors during the day to clean up any spills that were an immediate danger. Today, however, he had been given the specific task to clear out whatever it was that was stuck into the machine that poured the waste into the large basin. It had been the first time he’d ever been asked to do it, but he figured it couldn’t be too hard.

Joe made his way to the waste room, and eyed the large mechanical wonder. Even though it was out of order, the large acidic tub was still bubbling and he could see the solid pieces floating up and down. He scampered up the ladder, trying to not look down as that would probably only make him nervous and he might stumble. He finally made it to the top after quite a few minutes of nearly losing his balance. He opened up the hatch, and looked inside as he tried to find the source of the problem. Unfortunately, he could see no wires that were crossed nor anything that was faulty. He sighed, and promptly climbed back down the ladder. Now he headed off to where everything mixed, which was then circuited to that machine which poured it into the vat.

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#3
Old 01-21-2008, 02:00 AM

I thoroughly enjoyed the first story but there are some parts that seem to falter. I don't quite understand how someone could stab themselves in the heart and then live long enough to think themselves victorious and laugh at the same time. Another question is who the killer of the women were. I am thinking it was probably the lawyer though it doesn't go with the last bit, oh well.

The second story seemed to end abruptly and needs to have more to it. I like the beginning and it intrigues me and makes me want to know what happens at the plant.
On final note I would have to say the fonts are a bit small and hard to read.

 


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