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WingsDurus
(-.-)zzZ
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09-01-2012, 05:48 PM
Author Notes: Thanks for looking at my story. Please stay and enjoy. I am welcome to reviews and critiques so feel free to comment on my story. If you have any questions also feel free to ask. I really hope you enjoy reading Gaslight Shadows!
Gaslight Shadows
A Working Title
Prelude
“What do your parents do?”
It’s a simply question, really, one asked to millions of school aged children on a yearly basis. It’s one of the first questions asked of kindergartners, first graders, and such when they first get to school. It’s a question that usually inspires pride in children about their upbringing, or at least it should. It’s also one of those meant to be harmless questions that can force a child to suffer shame, ridicule, and alienation at the hands of their classmates. Suddenly their hard working, lower class, solidly providing security guard father no longer seems the hero next to another child’s pilot father who brings them toys and gifts from strange and exotic locales. But that’s beside the point.
When asked what my parents did, I always quickly responded with my father’s profession. He was a Corinthian Republic Marine and I was more than proud to point out that he along with his fellow Marines helped to keep our country safe and free. My father was very proud of his job and the emblem of his profession was a common and easily identifiable as the Corinthian Republican Flag. After I had gone on in length about what my father did, my teachers assumed that my mother probably stayed home with us, as a housewife. When I vehemently disagreed, they asked me what her job was; I couldn’t answer them.
You see my mother’s occupation was an enigma to me. She worked most days commuting to the city early in the morning and returning from Orlyons late in the afternoon. I remembered a badge, shiny and silver that she kept tucked inside a wallet fold and the bulge of a handgun under her jacket. But she wasn’t a policewoman, of that I was vaguely sure. The snippets I heard of her work conversations mentioned things that my young mind could not quite comprehend; words like “feral”, “sanguine”, “runes” and “incantations”. When I asked her about her job she said that she was a federal agent, then she explained to me it was kinda like a policewoman or a detective and that she helped good people by protecting them from bad people. It was sufficient enough of an answer for a small child so I labeled my mother a detective and didn’t think of it much again.
It wasn’t until many years later that I thought of my mother’s occupation again. I was seventeen and had just finished out my junior year of high school; it was also the year she died. Somber faced men with pitying and official tones appeared at our door one summer evening to deliver the news. My mother had been killed in the line of duty. My father was devastated; we all were. She had left behind a devoted husband and four young daughters, between the ages of seventeen and thirteen. Her sudden absence would leave an imprint on all of our characters, changings us irreversibly, for the good and bad; and I wanted to know why.
What was my mother doing when she died? What had happened to her? Who killed her? I needed an explanation for this sudden grievous change to my life and that of my family. I need a way to make sense of it and nothing was offered. The gentlemen who came to deliver the news would say only that she died doing her duty, that we should be proud of her, and that they were sorry for our loss. They would not answer why or who. Even my father only told me that he would explain more when I was older - when I could understand better. Only he never got around to it. So my mother remained an enigma to me.
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WingsDurus
(-.-)zzZ
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09-02-2012, 01:11 AM
(I really should be packing my apartment right now. But I just couldn't help but write the first couple scenes.)
Act I Scene I
Despite my mother’s passing, I had many sane years after her death. I finished high school on a relatively good, but ordinary note. College came next. I enrolled St Croix Parish University in Porte de Beaux and majored in criminal justice. During the week I worked hard on my classes during the day and interned with the Porte de Beaux Police Department during my afternoons. On the weekends I relaxed, partied, and let off steam just like any other student. Unremarkably enough I graduated and moved to Orlyons, hoping to join the police force there. I was blissfully unaware of the depth to the world around me, to its strangeness. I had not yet faced the grim realities of my world and those that existed in hidden lives all around me. I was still normal.
I was an Orlyons City Police Department Cadet Apprentice. Which mostly meant that I picked up coffee and lunch orders, filed away paperwork, washed patrol cars, and if I was extra lucky one of the officers would take me to the range with them to shoot. With all the budget cuts the state had made recently the parish could only afford to sent so many cadets off to the police academy and Porte de Beaux, the capital, was hurting for new officers. it wasn't exactly what i had expected to be doing with my criminal justice degree right out of college. I had expected to be a full blown officer of the force by now, carrying a badge and a gun and enforcing the law, but i had a job which un-stimulating as it was, paid adequately enough; more than many could say in today’s economy.
and i enjoyed my job for the most part. though i wasn't out arresting anyone i still enjoyed working with the officers in my station and i learned a lot from them. and they generally liked having me around as well. i worked hard i stayed out of the way and i was always eager to help if it was needed. and because of my work ethic they sometimes let me go early especially on Fridays.
I had a little cubicle of my own in one of the offices on the bottom floor of the building. Whenever there was little work to be done I was usually found sitting there at my desk refreshing my email or scrolling through facebook looking for something mildly amusing to occupy my time with. Which is precisely where I was when my sergeant found me.
“Hey kiddo,” Sergeant Larson said poking his head in through the door, “Whatcha working on?” I half turned towards the door, most of my attention still focused on the semi-interesting article I was reading about gang wars running rampant in some city in Delacosta Parish. It seemed the younger generation of two rival families, the Montelesques and the Acostas, have recently been taking their decades long family feud to new heights.
“Uh...not much...” I said coming to a stopping point in the article. Then I turned round to face him with a grin. He returned my smile with a slight shake of his head. I could make anyone I worked with smile if I wanted, there was a reason they called me sunshine. “Why what’s up?” I asked curious as to why he’d sought me out.
“Eh, nothing. I figure if you’re done for the day you should get out of here. Go have some fun or something, while you’re still young.” he replied. I smiled wider at the offer. I never really minded having to stay until the end of the day, but it was nice to know that my superiors, especially Sergeant Larson thought enough about me to give me an early day.
“Yea, ok.” I said, “All I’ve got to do is drop this reports off to Mrs. Naquin and I’m done.” I said grabbing a stack of blue folders off my desk. Sergeant Larson strolled into the room and plucked the folders from my hands.
“I’ll take care of them,” he said, and before I could refuse added, “I’ve gotta stop by her office anyway. You just go and enjoy your weekend.” he said heading back towards the door.
“Thanks!” I replied turning back towards my computer, quickly logging off the network and shutting it down. I learned very quickly when a supervisor tells you to go home you do so swiftly and without question before someone else makes up more tasks for you to do.
“Oh,” he said turning back towards me. “If you find you’re out and had a little too much fun, don’t be afraid to call for a ride home or something. I’d hate to hear monday morning that one of our most promising prospects got herself a DUI or alcohol poisoning or something.” he said. I turned to his stern look and offered up a weak shrug. I didn’t get into trouble. i didn't drink and drive i didn't do drugs i barely jay walked. i left the rebellious, stick it to the man, walk on the wild side, attitude to my younger sister Harley; she was good at it. And Sgt Larson knew that. i think maybe he just felt obligated as a supervisor to give me the safety talk.
“I've got you on speed dial. Anything happens, you’ll be the first to know.” I intoned with a practiced air. We went through this speech, or one very similar, every weekend. This week he seemed content to give me the standard don’t drink and drive message. Which, I suppose, was better that his ‘don’t get knocked up’ speech of last week. That had been a very awkward and uncomfortable speech for the both of us. But it was nice to know that he cared.
“Right on. See you Monday, Sunshine.” He said nodding goodbye as he left the room.
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WingsDurus
(-.-)zzZ
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09-02-2012, 09:01 PM
Act I Scene II
The Roux House was a thriving hub that night. The DJ’s selection pulsed from the speakers spread throughout the building in a way that made the old brick and plaster walls feel almost alive with rhythm. It was Friday night and the bar’s usual weekday crowd was bolstered by eager new faces, dancing, drinking, laughing, and otherwise enjoying the night’s revelry. The club’s patron, Dion, flitted exuberantly among his carousing patrons schmoozing easily with customers old and new as if they were all dear friends. It was hard not to feel at ease with Dion around. It seemed as if a mild ecstasy rolled over you in pleasing waves at his presence. And the charismatic owner always looked drunk off of the good vibes surrounding him, though it was probably more from the ever present drink in his hand than anything else.
I caught Dion's gleaming eyes as he passed through the bar on his current round of pleasantries and he sent a dazzling smile my way. I could not help but return his smile with one of my own; the man's good mood was instantly catching. He made as if to come towards me when someone swept into his way vying for some of his brilliant attention. Dion sent an apologetic smile my way and I nodded my understanding. We would talk some other time.
I turned my attentions back to the bar and the half consumed bottle in front of me. Greis D'Iko, my beer of choice sat gleaming in the multicolored light before me, its silvery label peeling at the corners where I had absentmindedly worried it with my fingernails during my perusal of the night's crowd.
"You’ve got an admirer tonight.” Ryan said placing a fresh bottle of Greis D’Iko in front of me. “He wanted me to send this over.” I perked up at the offering.
“Ooh, thoughtful and attentive. A definite plus. How’s he look?” I questioned. I was pleasantly curious about this potential beau. Ryan made a face at my question. It was obvious that he wasn’t too fond about checking out a guy for me, but I refused to turn around and gawk. I didn’t want the guy to think I was too eager. Just because it had been a little while since my last date didn’t mean I had to act desperate.
“I don’t know, Ty…I guess he looks alright.” He responded with a huff. As I watched Ryan appraised the man over my shoulder his scowl deepened. “I don’t like him.” I lifted an eyebrow at his conclusion.
“That bad, huh?” I asked skeptical. Ryan always was protective of the girls who were regulars at the Roux House, me included. He couldn’t really be trusted with an accurate appraisal of a flirting man. “Which one is he?”
“He’s the one at the table behind you, in the grey plaid.”
I peered behind Ryan, using the mirror backed shelf of various bottles of alcohol to scope out the bar. A man sat at the small table not too far behind me staring off at the dance floor with a disinterested gaze and sipping the beer cradled in his hand. Curling dark brown hair sat tousled, strands curling at the edges of an older, yet boyish face. A light down of day old stubble covered his chin and throat, adding a slight edge to his otherwise soft features. I watched as he downed the contents of his bottle, his Adam’s apple working in a wonderfully seducing manner.
“Oh…” I breathed, very intrigued in this stranger. As if he heard my expression the man turned to face me, our eyes meeting in the mirror. Heat flushed up my neck and spread across my face as I realized I had been caught trying to covertly check him out. I looked away from the mirror and caught sight of Ryan’s face. His brows were knitted in concern. I’d never known him to be so opposed to a guy hitting on me at the bar.
“I dunno, baby girl. I just don’t like him.” He said collecting up my now empty bottle of Greis and opening the new on for me. “Be careful with this one, alright?” I nodded, but I was paying far more attention to the man in the mirror to really pay attention to Ryan’s warning. He must have noticed my distraction because he didn’t say anything else. When I looked back to Ryan he had already moved down the bar to take someone else’s order.
The man who’d bought my drink was more than making up for the loss of attention. I watched him as he put down his empty bottle and made his way over to where I sat. He moved in an instinctually graceful manner; his gait was more of a stalk than a walk. He wove easily between the crowds moving about the club even though he never took his eyes off mine in the mirror.
I looked away when he sat down next to me and took a sip of my beer. I wanted to appear cool and aloof, but I was having trouble hiding the excited smile that keep wanting to burst out.
“Hey.” The man said simply. His voice was low and rumbled a bit like a truck driving over gravel. The sound sent a little shiver down my spine.
“Hey,” I answered back. It was a simple and uncreative greeting, one that didn’t really inspire further conversation, so I quickly added, “Thanks for the drink, by the way.”
“Yea, well, it’s what you always order when you come here.” He replied flippantly. My smile faltered a little at his words. He knew what I always ordered? I wanted to believe that maybe he had seen me in here a couple nights and had been too shy or hesitant to come over and talk to me; I wanted to. But something about the ease in which he bought me and drink and walked over told me that probably wasn’t the case. A red flag went up in my head.
“Oh, I am a little predictable.” I said a little hesitantly. Though wary now, I continued the conversation. My sudden apprehensions could be a misconception and I didn’t want to come across as impolite. “Do you come here a lot?”
“When the mood strikes.” He answered. I watched him take a survey of me. His cloudy grey eyes looked me up and down critically. Normally I would have been delighted that a good looking man was checking me out, but something about the gesture made my skin crawl. “What’s your name?” he asked suddenly, his eyes snapping back up to meet mine.
“I’m…Jess.” I said offering up my middle name. I couldn’t quite put a finger on what I didn’t like about this guy, but I definitely didn’t want him to know my real name. “What’s yours?” I asked, trying to sound friendly, but it was more of a challenge.
“Joe.” He said a little too quickly, looking away and avoiding my eyes. His answer was too quick, it sounded practiced, almost like he had rehearsed the answer and then in an effort to get the correct line out he’d rushed it. By then I was certain anywhere this ‘Joe’ person was, was a place I didn’t want to be. I took one more sip from my bottle and stood up.
“Well, it was nice to meet you, Joe, but I think I’m gonna get out of here.” I said as pleasantly as I could. Joe stared hard at him, his eyes narrowing.
“You didn’t finish your drink.” He stated evenly. I offered up an apologetic smile.
“You’re right, I know. Complete alcohol abuse. But I’ve had a long day. I really should call it a night.” I lied, trying to quickly excuse myself from the situation. Joe didn’t seem too convinced.
“I should walk you to your car, at least.” He offered, staring at me with the same dark look he’d been giving me since he sat down. “You never know what could happen out there in the dark.” I couldn’t be sure, but his statement felt like it had the edge of a threat in it. The instinctual part of my brain told me to get away from this man and fast.
“That’s alright; I can make it on my own.” I said with a strained smile. He didn’t look convinced by my act. He continued to stare me down for a long moment. Something about the stare kept me rooted to where I stood. Finally, after a tense moment, Joe looked away towards the other end of the bar. I wanted to sigh in relief, but I didn’t feel out of trouble yet. “Thanks for the beer, Joe.” I took a step back, distancing myself from ‘Joe’.
“My pleasure, darlin.” He replied. There was a slight sneer on his face and I figured from the look, buying me a drink was anything but. “Have a good night…Jess.” He added. A look of dark amusement crossed his face and I almost tripped over my own feet backing to get away. I didn’t turn around until I thought there was an adequate distance between me and him and then I all but ran for the door.
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