I'm so far behind on blogging, I now know, I'm never getting caught up. Yesterday, the kids had a band competition, and finally deciding to be good band parents, we went to watch...in Champaign an hour and a half from our house at 8am in the freaking morning. I had to get the kids up at 4am, that's when the bus was leaving the high school. So, we got up with them, drove to Champaign, paid eight bucks each to watch their three minute performance. I figured it cost about 6 dollars a minute to watch a performance I've seen at every football game since the season started! Oh well, at least the kids had fun, but now I have Journey's Anyway You Want It permanent embedded as a ear worm!
So, it's Sunday morning, time for Sassy Brit's Sunday Story Starter (this week inspired by Lynn Hones).... and I'm late as usual....
Rainy Days and Mondays
By Dottie Taylor
Word Count: 500
Tilley pushed the shopping cart through the bumpy parking lot. "Everytime...I'm telling you every time I grocery shop it pours." She lifted up the hatch of the van and reared back when her gaze fell upon a man laying there. She was no expert, but from the looks of him, he was dead.
Tilley flung a chuck of sodden bangs out of her eyes, glancing about, what the hell was going on? She reached to check his pulse, but it wasn't necessary, he was stone cold dead. Should she try to turn him over, see who he was? She lifted her head, twisting around, making sure no one was watching, but the parking lot was deserted.
Instead, she clutched her emergency kit, grabbed the blanket, and threw it over the body. Slamming the hatch closed, she dragged her groceries to the side door, and began tossing bags in, eggs breaking, boxes crunching, fruit flying.
She needed to call Frost, he'd better come through for her, the bastard. She climbed behind the stirring wheel, gripped her cell punching the keypad, and sat waiting in the rain, shivering.
“Hiya...” Lance yawned into the phone, “this better be good..”
“Tell Frost I need to see him.” Tilley demanded, wanting to scream.
“Hey Tiltstir, you wanna come over, take a ride on my merry-go-round?”
“Fuck off Lance. I need Frost.” Why did he always have to be such a prick?
“Yeah, well fuck you back baby, Frost ain't here.”
“Shit, do you know where he is?”
Tilley slammed the phone shut.
She dropped her head into her hands. A dead guy in the back of the van and no way to get him out. She gazed out through the windshield, at least it was getting dark, maybe she could roll him out, leave him in the lot. She reached down for her keys when her cell rang.
“Hey Tilley, what cha need?”
“Frost, I'll tell you what I need. I got a toaster pop in the back of my van.”
“No shit... what'd you do?”
“I didn't, don't know how he got there.”
“So, why you callin' me?”
“I saved your ass, you gonna help me out?”
“Shit, girl, dump it somewhere.”
“I don't wanna know, I gotta go...”
The phone clicked in her ear.
She eyed the rearview mirror and the blanket twitched. Son of a bitch, maybe she was wrong, maybe he wasn't dead.
Tilley stepped from the van back into the rain. Lifting the hatch, she pushed the blanket away and his face grinned back at her.
“Hello Tilley, long time no see.” He leapt from the cargo space, flashing his black eyes at her, backing her up against the icy van as his foul breath washed over her.
Aw shit, Daniel was dead, she'd staked him herself. Yet here he was..... and he looked pissed.
So, this one's definitely urban fantasy, definitely dark, with a little language... I haven't slept much in the past 3 or 4 days, lol, pretty much reflects my mood! Dark with a little foul language, yep, totally describes me.....
See you on Monday for another edition of Monday Morning Flash Fiction Challenge!!
(remember... NaNoWriMo starts in a fourteen days....!! I can't wait, she said with trepidition.... okay, I'm stopping now... talking about myself in the third person, clear indication more sleep is needed......)