I can’t believe the A to Z Challenge is coming to an end tomorrow. I’ve loved doing it. I thought about writing, “It’s not over YET,” as my “Y” post, but I had some flash to do, so instead I just named one of the characters Yvette. I think I’ll do a reflection post on Friday about the A to Z Challenge. I’ve enjoyed the experience so much.
Without further ado, here’s the piece I wrote for Mid-week Blues-Buster. The song, to me seemed to be about internal demons, but it spun a great little thriller piece in my head. This is one I may develop further at another time.
Peace at Last
The rain rushed in as Yvette tried to kick in the door with her heel.
“Let me do it,” Steve said, pushing her out of the way.
We thought the house was empty. It’s true what they say—when you’re wrapped up with the wrong group of friends, you never realize it until it’s too late. That night, as the lightening crashed down around us, and the moss on the oak trees swayed like ghosts dancing in the rain, fate started shaking its ugly fist.
Steve and I both had pistols. Yvette and Coco raided the kitchen. I didn’t know why in the hell they always went there first. I followed Steve toward the bedroom. The house was dark, but looked lived in. A magazine was tossed on a coffee stained table in the living room, a stuffed bunny abandoned on a multi-colored rug. We rounded the corner, and looked up stairs that led to a loft, but continued past to the master bedroom. If the girls had told us food was simmering on the stove, we would have walked out the door, but that’s not what happened.
They were in bed, and the commotion had awakened them. A terrified look on their faces like a deer right before he’s hit by a car.
“I thought you said no one was home,” I said.
“Shut up,” Steve said.
The half-naked man and woman in the bed shook, huddled together with fear. Steve had his gun out now, and so I took my gun out too.
The half strangled word came out of their mouths, “No,” before it was cut off by the sound of the bullet crashing into the man’s skull and the woman’s scream, which I quickly silenced with a bullet of my own. My heart raced in my chest like thunder rolling down a mountain, and I couldn’t believe what I’d done in that split second. Now, I wasn’t just a thief, I was a killer.
“Oh my God, we have to get out of here.”
Steve laughed. That nervous type of laugh, you know the one a kid has after he’s done something he’s not supposed to.
“We killed them, Ollie.”
My face blanched, but I refuse to look back at the bed where Steve was staring.
“We came here to rob the joint and that’s what we’re going to do.”
The girls were sitting sullenly in the living room.
“What happened?” Yvette asked.
I was too stunned to answer. A few minutes later Steve came out with a bag full of Lord knows what. I didn’t want any of it—I just wanted to rewind time. My head was spinning with the knowledge of what we’d done.
And then we heard it.
We all looked up. A little girl, no more than four stood up at the top of the loft stairs looking down at us. Steve pulled out his gun, but I grabbed his arm. It happened so quickly, when he pulled the trigger, the bullet traveled into my skin and through my side.
“It’s just a flesh wound,” Coco said.
“I can’t believe you were going to kill that kid,” Yvette said.
“Let’s get out of here,” Steve said.
I stood, blood dripping everywhere, and I looked up the stairs to see the little girl’s wide blue eyes looking down at me, like an angel from above beckoning me to join her. Coco, Steve, and Yvette were gone by the time I stumbled over the side of the couch. I tried to stand, to get my footing, but I slipped on something wet. When I hit the floor, the blood pooled around me like embryonic fluid. When I closed my eyes for the last time, I felt the little girl’s hand on my face, soft and warm. Peace at last.