TREEhugger101 (2013-12-11 06:25:47)

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(Rather graphic. This is one of my actual serious stories, centered around crime/action. Haven't finished and don't plan to in a while, just wanted your input on it. Thanks!)

This post has been edited one or more times, the last time was:
2013-12-11 06:30:04

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TREEhugger101 (2013-12-11 06:27:48)

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Lola-Janelle Clyde trotted to the fuchsia couch of her uppity apartment, long nails stained lilac clinking against her champagne glass. Her dress squeezed tight against long, tanned legs tipped with black six-inch stilettos.
Of course, Lola-Janelle Clyde didn’t have to bother to be beautiful; she was born into glamour and money.
Platinum-blond curls rustled slightly against her shoulders as she paused before the cushions- a creak by the bathroom door had disturbed her- who else could be here? She had bolted the door shut just minutes ago when she returned from her ‘errands’.
No need to worry over nothing, she thought, and settled on the couch. She had always loved a moderate drink after her day was over, to do so was relaxing and left her sleepy-
Lola’s musings were interrupted by a muffled scream, the crack of a bullet, and the wet sound of her own blood splattering against the floor.

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The blood was sticky. Warm. It smelled sharp, of metal and death. A hand cautiously dipped into a small pool of it- blue-capped fingertips now gleaming red. Lola’s blue eyes stared wide, starting to cloud with blood.
It was unnerving, now that she was dead. Another hand swept across Lola’s face and pulled her eyelids shut. Eyeshadow brushed off onto his fingers.
Her name. He had nearly forgotten it again- Lola-Janette? Jay? It didn’t matter anymore. A forged suicide note had been carefully placed on the glass coffee table, and a pistol left in her right palm-
All that mattered now was escape.
Instead, he brought his hand up to Lola’s forehead. Where the bullet had entered was a mess; he thrust his hand into it and brought out a shard of bone.
A chuckle resonated through the air.

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TREEhugger101 (2013-12-11 06:29:30)

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“What was the motive? What could have been the motive?”
“She was rich. Filthy effin’ rich.”
Detective Wren Addams brought her hand up to her forehead and groaned in frustration. “I need specifics. Had she done anything that could’ve triggered this-”
“Woman was away from me half the time, how was I supposed to know?!” Victor Clyde slammed his fat sausage hand onto the table, reaching in his sweatpants pocket for a packet of crumpled cigarettes. “She wouldn’t gi’ me any of her money, even though she had truckloads o’ it.”
Detective Addams wondered how Lola had decided to marry this man- greasy, smelled like a dog kennel, beer-bellied. He must’ve looked better in his younger days.
“Why did she marry you?”
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Zachary “Pike” greeted the girl at the coffee shop by the Barnes & Nobles. She had a handful of books in her hand and was stowing her silver purse.
That purse, he guessed, was full of weed.
Her hair was short and pulled back into a tufty ponytail tied with an aqua scrunchie. Her clothes- gaudy, he decided- silver cutoff jacket and a neon green tank top underneath, with the ever-so-cliche grey torn-up jeans.
She smiled a pleasant smile, pulling out a chair and sitting down with her fingers interlocked. “I assume you’re Zachary?”
“Please. Just call me Pike.”
“Fan of fishing?”
“Oh, no, it’s a type of weapon. My friends gave me that nickname because I collect knives and stuff.” he tried to force a smile, but he could easily tell that she saw through it.
“Knives, huh?”
He sighed in exasperation. “Enough with the pleasantries. What’s the plan?”
“Well. It all depends on what you want to do. I do anything. But I charge.” she rubbed her fingers together. “Moolah.”
“Yeah, yeah, well, lemme give it to you straight- I want to get stoned out of my mind. Preferably OD on the hardest stuff you got.”
“You’re drunk. I don’t help people kill themselves. You’re drunk, aren’t you?” she repeated.
“No, chickie, sober as ever.”
“It’s gonna be a pretty penny.”
“No duh.”
“We’re talking nine-hundreds here.”
“Deal. When’s it gonna happen?”
“I’ll meet up with you at the motel tomorrow. Six PM, sharp.”
Pike nodded slowly, but remained at his seat and ordered a coffee while she stumbled back to her jalopy. Of course, he never planned to take any of the drugs that she offered. He wasn’t going to overdose at such a young age of twenty-three, not when he had a very long list of people to exact his revenge on for what they did to his mother.
His mother, who he had killed.
Her name was Lola-Janelle Clyde.
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TREEhugger101 (2013-12-11 06:33:55)

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Aw. Psh. Pike wasn't a bad person, was he?
Of course, that's coming from me, his partner in crime. The sexy girl. I began helping him- because he had reasons. And he was crazy, crazy as heck. He said his mother was better off dead, and that I agreed with. Ol' Momma Clyde had too much over her head. Affairs, unpaid debts- the works.
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This post has been edited one or more times, the last time was:
2013-12-11 06:34:39

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BeastlySmile (2013-12-11 06:44:03)

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This is good. Very good. Oh my god, you must continue.

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CherokeeKidJoJo (2013-12-11 07:35:53)

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Yesh yesh.

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Death_The_Kid (2013-12-12 06:21:08)

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This is awesome

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