Free Write Scene

The water shimmered above him as he held his breath, counting to himself as fire consumed his chest. The people above him were taking too long. He was only able to hold his breath for twenty minutes whereas full-blooded Seamen held no restrictions. If only his father kept his dick in his pants when he was fifteen hundred years young.

“He has to be around here somewhere.” Ronnie, the one Java knew to be the ringleader of the Seamen Seek and Finders Group, said. “Did he get into that water?”

“Ronnie man, it’s not deep enough. It only goes up to my ankles.”

Good the guy didn’t know about the sinkhole in the middle of the washed-out area. What a break for him. Java didn’t get many of those, he’d take them when they came his way.

“There is nowhere else for him to be hiding around here.” Another person said.

How many had Ronnie brought with him? That was two different speakers, and Ronnie was known for traveling with at least five at all times, but did all of them follow him when he came after him? How did they even locate him? He’d stayed under the radar for the last sixty years and one hundred before then. He was talented at avoiding the Seaman Seek and Finders Group. A talent his father taught him. About the only thing he could thank the man for, besides giving him life. Then again, he wasn’t so sure he could go that far. His life sucked, majorly most of the time.

“Fine.” Ronnie’s wavering image faded out of sight from above him as the man stepped away from the semi-muddy puddle of water Java hid in. “Let’s go. We’ve lost him again. I swear to the Heavens Above, I will catch that piece of Seamen Fish Ass one day.”

Java would make sure his ass was dead and useless to him if he ever did. He wanted nothing to do with the cruelty the Seaman Seek and Finders delivered upon their captives. The rare few who survived their torture and found release were left a comatose shell of themselves. Those who escaped, which were even rarer, swore living a million and one days in the pits of Hell would be better than spending five seconds inside their walls. Java wanted nothing to do with what the Seaman Seek and Finders believed they were doing for society as a whole by capturing and studying the unusual species that walked out of the edge of the Florida coast two decades ago.

Bubbles began to flow from the corners of his lips, forcing Java to surface. It’d been quiet for several seconds. Java prayed Ronnie and his men were gone. As he surfaced, he felt the spear slam through his upper arm. His right hand flew up to the pole, yanking it free as he leapt from the water, floating over a short, choppy black-haired guy. He landed on the other side of him with his own knife pulled and held steady in front of him. A quick scan proved Ronnie only left one guy behind.

Free Write Scene

Happy Labor Day,

Hope all have had a great Summer and enjoy the last day of it. And for any of those college football fans, hope you've enjoyed the return of it. Now, it's time to take a small break and enjoy escaping into a short scene of creativity. 

Hope you enjoy and are able to let your imagination soar.

Julia

He couldn’t believe he just shifted into a wolf. How had it been possible? How long had it been possible? Why had no one told him he’d be able to do so?

“All stupid questions, Sal.” He said to himself as he hung his head, staring at the shredded pile of clothing laying at his feet. 

Simple answer to all the last one was he’d been dropped off at the rectory’s back door when he was two days old. As to the other two, he was sure no one around him thought such was possible. He sure hadn’t. Why would have his foster mother? Heck fire, she didn’t even have to let him remain with her after he turned eighteen and entered college last year. There is no way she’d do so if she knew he could shift into a wild animal. What was he going to do? How did he keep this a secret? Did he even have control over when he shifted? Lord haver mercy, there were so many questions forming and he had no one to answer them.

His hand flew to his chest. He leaned over, holding his stomach, taking in deep, short shallow breaths until he was dizzy and thought he’d pass out. The room began to fade into blackness when he felt a soft hand on his shoulder.

“Sal, I’m sorry I wasn’t here when it happened.”

“Rachael?”

“Yeah, sweetie. I’d planned to speak to you before it happened, but I didn’t think you’d have your First Shift for another month or so.”

“You knew.”

Free Write Scene

“Hurry,” Jimmy tugged me along the waterlogged sidewalk as he rushed us toward the theater.

“Why are we hurry to get to some horror flick?” I should never have agreed to go to it in the first place. He should never have asked to take me. He knew I hated those kind of movies.

“Come on you will love it. I promise, Norm.”

“Don’t call me that.” He also knew I despised my real name. He was about the only one who dared get by with calling me it. Okay, he was the only one, besides my mother when she was ticked off at me, who could get by with addressing me by it.

“I love your name, honey.” He yanked me under the awning of the Shadow Theater.

“See, no one else braved this God-awful weather to come see such a horrible movie,” I whined as he wrapped his arm around my waist, nuzzling my neck.

“I will be there to keep you safe and sound from all bogymen. I promise.” He nipped the hallow between my neck and shoulder. “Let’s get our tickets.”

“You don’t stop that display of affection, you won’t get into my theater.”

“Come one, Mr. Henderson,” Jimmy chuckled and held his hand out to old Mr. Henderson, who had owned the theater since before me and Jimmy were born. My mom told us Mr. Henderson had been a young man when he bought it when she was only a child.

“How’s this weather treating you, Mr. Henderson?” I gave him a nod as I stepped away from Jimmy, more out of respect than having to. Mr. Henderson didn’t care how much the consenting adults fooled around outside or inside his movie theater. It was the younger ones he cared about and those who did not consent that ticked him off the most. Still, I felt respect was demanded, even if he joked around with us each time he saw us.

“Weather is a bitch. Each time it rains or snows my old bones act up, but I’m not one to complain, I’m still up and moving, so I’m better off than most my age.” And he was. My mom, who was much younger than him was already bedridden, but she had a hard life full of triple jobs with double shifts most of the days to keep me and my two brothers supported after my father was killed by a drunk driver.

“Big night for you boys?”

“Nah, Sir. Just some old scary movie, which you could ban from your theater if it was okay by you.”

Mr. Henderson chuckled, winking at Jimmy, who gave him this humorous smile. One I only saw on my lover’s face when he was up to something.

“What’s going on, Jimmy?”

“What do you mean?”

“You gave yourself away, my little conniving lover.”

Free Write Scene

“Colton!”

Shoot. What had he done this time? Every time Jason shouted Colton’s name the two of them began bickering. Hank would rather them come to blows than shout and scream back and forth until the wee hours of the morning. He had to get some sleep. Some people did have to work to pay the bills. If only he could afford an apartment where the walls weren’t so thin he heard every move and sound his neighbors made.

“You worthless piece of crap!” Jason's words stung as they flowed through Hank’s bedroom wall and into his head. 

A dark, red-haired woman might have well stood over his bed, waving a single sheet of paper with a single red mark on it shouting those very same words. His mom never let him forget how sorry of a person he would become for failing to get perfect scores on all assignments in school. Look where her berating got him, in the midst of a dump apartment, listening to a couple of men fight each night while he works his rear-end off each day to try and save up enough money for night school thanks to his mom gambling away what money his dad left him when he died.

Weekly Free Write Scene

Free Write Scene

The Eagle sat on the long, slender brown tree branch watching me through its unusual sky-blue eyes. It felt as if someone watched me from afar from a pair of binoculars. Creepy and eerie to the point a shiver ran down my spine. I jumped up from my swing porch and rushed inside, slamming my front door, and locking the deadbolt.

“Ronald is dead.” I whispered into the empty room, taking in two slow deep breaths, staving off the panic attack I felt tugging at me. “Ronald has been dead for five years.” I reminded myself a second time. “You killed him. You shot him dead the last time he invaded your home in Texas.”

I shoved the image of the blood gushing out of his chest and over his sides onto my shiny hardwood floors. It’d been a long time since those images had rushed my mind. It was understandable why they crashed to life then, but I didn’t need them bringing me to a standstill or causing my life to spiral out of control again. I’d spent two long years trying to regain my life after that awful night. I’d spent five days in the hospital after Ronald’s beating that horrid night.  The law in Texas tried to blame me for killing him, even though the evidence supported my self-defense. My father had hired the best lawyer in the world to defend me and he got me off, but not until after a yearlong trial, which would never had happened if Ronald hadn’t been the son of the Senator of Texas.

A soft knock on my door caused me to jerk away from the door all but leaping two feet into the air. Who in the world could it be? There’d been no crunching of gravel. No closing of car doors. No clomping of feet on the front porch. Where had someone came from?

“Who is it?” My voice came out as more of a croak.

“You have no reason to fear, Mr. Jameson.”

No one around here knew me by my given birthname. I’d changed it when I moved to some small town at the foot of some mountain in North Carolina. I wasn’t even sure of the name of the town I lived in. That’s how little I mingled among it. I knew the closest biggest city I lived near was some four hours away and that’s how I liked it. My nearest neighbor was half an hour away and I loved that. So where had this intruder of my space came from.

“I am here at the behest of Mr. Chamberland.”

That was a name I knew all too well. He’d been my lawyer and became a great friend of mine. Our close quarter work over that year and his aid in getting me help with my PTSD and depression was more of a help than my father had been to me. Oh, my father tried to aid me, but everything he did seemed to make things worse. He seemed to think telling me to get over it would work. It was laughable and aggravating at the same time.

I slid the chain across the door, still a bit caution because I didn’t know the man outside my door he could be anyone who knew to toss around the name of my friend and unlocked the door, opening it just a bit.

“Who are you?”

“My name is Andre Thomas, I am an associate of Mr. Chamberland. Mr. Chamberland sent me here to watch over you because there has been a bounty put out on you.”