Rose & Ghun Episode One: You want me to do what?

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“Ow,” I mumbled.

“Does that hurt, pretty baby?” I stared up out of one eye at the woman above me. Perfect lipstick and hair, nails still shimmering in the light of night, and brandishing a tire iron she had just used on my ribs.

“Only a little, Cornelia,” I managed. “I guess you aren’t what you used to be.”

“Errrngh!”

I’m not very smart…sometimes. That’s the idea that flowed through my head as my body rolled along behind it. The pavement was cold on my face. I smiled and my lip stung from the cracks in it. “Broke a heel,” I said. “Should have stuck with the iron.”

She stalked toward me. It’s amazing how beautiful people can look so hideous when evil twisted them from the inside. As for me on the asphalt . . . if it had just been Cornelia things would have been fine, but she never traveled alone. Part of her posse, gang, whatever gorgeous women criminal types called their hired thugs was present.

“Not gonna move, purdy boy,” said Larry.

“That’s ‘pretty baby’,” I said.

“Yeah, pretty baby, Larry,” said Justin.

Good, I got the names right. Big sacks of meat all looked the same through a swollen eye…in the night…in the street…on your face, points for me. Now what? Only one thing I could do.

“unnnnhhh,” was all Larry managed as my heel connected with his inseam. I rolled like a log along the street whRose1ile Justin paused to glance at his partner. Can’t run, then roll.

“Get him!”

By the time Justin turned at Cornelia’s order I had made it to my feet and was running…hobbling or maybe it was skipping. The only concern I had was that I was fast enough. Gary’s was not far and if I could make it there, then I might have a chance.

“Ain’t happenin’,” said Justin. I could hear boots pounding the street. Why do big men move faster these days? Why am I saying ‘these days’? I’m not even middle aged. But with the life I led maybe I was middle aged.

I could see Gary’s Grill’s sign lit up not even a block away. But sucking wind and dancing ribs were not going to allow me to get there. My feet kept running into the air as my head and shoulders came to a sudden stop.

“Aw, pretty baby got caught,” said Cornelia.

Justin held me in his arms like a constrictor, not that he needed to. I was spent. Cornelia walked slowly up and smiled. She had brought the tire iron. “I warned you not to take the case, now didn’t I?”

I couldn’t answer and wouldn’t have even if I could have taken a breath.

“That building fire was an accident. That’s what the insurance company is going to find out, and you are not going to disagree, are you, pretty baby?”

“wwww”

Cornelia glanced over my shoulder and nodded. The arms loosened slightly. At least I could breathe again.

“Now what did you want to tell me?”

“Why do you call me pretty baby?”

The slap jerked my head sideways and my neck popped. Why do women take these crazy classes where they exercise by fighting? That was a pro shot. Rib pain, the constrictor had returned.

Fingers pulled my hair and my face lifted to hers. “Drop the case or else,” she said. She leaned in close to my ear. I felt her breath and could smell her perfume. “Drop the case, Trevor. I don’t want this to get worse,” she ended in a whisper.

She stepped back and nodded at Justin. I was slammed to the pavement and couldn’t move. I saw them walk away. It wasn’t a bad sight. Justin leaving was a good thing, and even in the condition I was in…well…Cornelia was Cornelia, evil or not.

“And I was coming to you for help.” I slGhunowly rolled over onto my back and looked up into the face of another woman.

“What can I do for you?” I groaned.

“Not die for starters.”

“Working on it. What else?”

“Need you to help me kill the man that killed my sister.”

How do things get this bad this fast?

 

2014 © Copyright-All rights reserved-RonovanWrites.wordpress.com

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Rose & Ghun in Simply Murder-Episode Nine: I’ll search all night for you. Sigh.

Rose&Ghun Cover.jpg
gettyimages © Original Photo by Paul LoveKing

Rose & Ghun in Simply Murder-Episode Nine: I’ll search all night for you. Sigh.

by: Ronovan

“Jacob, tell me you can do it,” I said.

Computer GeekThe 19 year old college freaky genius was staring open mouthed at Monika…again. He slowly turned toward me and blinked. “Umm, yeah, I can do it,” he said weakly. “I just need the number.”

Monika leaned past him and using a pen on his desk wrote a number down. I could see his face flush at her closeness and her scent. I had become more and more immune as the hours and ticked by. “How long will it take?” I asked. She was Lori’s niece. Any other thoughts had pretty much left the building.

Jacob picked up the piece of paper as if it was fragile. “As fast as I can. I’ll call you when I get a location fix.” He turned and began to work.

I nodded to Monika and we slipped out the door. The dorm hallway was empty and we made it outside without meeting anyone. We were lucky no one was on duty at that time of night. We were lucky it hadn’t been a woman we were using. Linda would have been my next stop across campus if Jacob hadn’t been awake.

“You’ve been very quiet since the Romeo and Juliet reveal,” said Monika. We were both scanning the trees and bushes along the sidewalks as we neared the parking lot.

“Just thinking what to do next,” I said.Mini Cooper Inverted

“Lori told me about the two of you,” she said.

I slipped in behind the wheel of my emerald green Mini Cooper. “There really wasn’t much to tell.”

“Maybe not much but it was a lot,” said Monika. She clicked the seat belt. “If things hadn’t been the way they were, you two might have been different.”

“Maybe, but I always just look at things as happening the way they do and move ahead. No reason to look back, no reason to moan and groan.”

I knew she was looking at me. In a Mini you couldn’t help but know what the other person was doing, but when you were alone you didn’t think about needing extra room for other people. I just waited, but not for long. “Good.”

That wasn’t what I was expecting. She settled back in the seat and looked ahead and hummed a song. “Good? That’s it?”

“Yeah, what, do you want a sobbing moment of begging you to be all pain and anguished or something?”

“Well, no, but…”

“This isn’t a movie, Rose, this is real. I want you focused on getting my sister’s killer. If we can get him then we might stop this war,” said Monika. She started humming again.

I drove for several seconds before talking. “Now that I know what is really going on we can go to another place that might help us out.”

“Where?”

“Down Under Mike’s,” I said.

She turned quickly in her seat. “Are you crazy? You’ll get killed in there.”

“They won’t lay a finger on me. Not unless they are wearing gloves like you do all the time,” I said.

She looked at her leather covered hands and then my face. There was a bit of disappointment there for her to see. I didn’t blame her.

The car was quiet. Had I damaged things beyond repair? Sometimes it was better that way even if it wasn’t what I wanted. Down Under Mike’s appeared before us. We both looked around before getting out of the car. Then we slowly made our way along the cobblestone street to the ancient dive bar.

Dark BarMonika walked in first with no apparent problem. I followed and could hear the sizzle. The alarm had gone off. Every eye looked toward me. Gloves went on. The demon possessed didn’t like to get burned when they punched me.

Write Honestly or Write Popularly? The question every writer must face.

Writing, at its best, is a lonely life. Organizations for writers palliate the writer’s loneliness but I doubt if they improve his writing. He grows in public stature as he sheds his loneliness and often his work deteriorates. For he does his work alone and if he is a good enough writer he must face eternity, or the lack of it, each day.-Ernest Hemingway accepting the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1954 (You may listen to the actual speech here. It is only just over two minutes long.)

Does sharing your imagination frighten or worry you at times? Don’t laugh, you extroverted, uninhibited, creationistic, followers of your characters’ whims. There are those who think of who will be reading their work as in their friends and relatives, or even worse their religious leaders. Then all will know the strange goings on of their minds. Or even the naughty things they think of and dared shared. Those who do not venture into writing do not understand how the author can separate one world from the other.

Some will just laugh at the thought of being worried about what other people think, but for many it is a real fear. I believe this may be one think that keeps several very talented writers from ever becoming published or realizing their true potential. And the worst part is, they don’t even realize it.

Here is an example that might hit home for some. You have a situation where as you are writing one of the characters somehow turns out to be gay. I say somehow as in that it wasn’t a plan but as the story went along there was just something there that seemed to lead your writing in that direction. This character is a main character and a favorite. So far so good, right?

Now you have the issue that the author is fundamentally religious or whose friends are primarily against the gay life style. I use ‘religious’ because some religions share the same thoughts on certain issues. The writer personally doesn’t have an issue with it, but the friends would be shocked. So what does the writer do? Probably bails on the idea and just diverts from the issue.

But now we enter another one of those areas where the writer must decide between the truth of reality and the character or caving to peer pressure and believing it really doesn’t make a difference in the big picture. Where does the compromising end?

If anyone has read my We are the Editors of our Lives article you know that I believe God had a story written for us and then we end up editing it along the way. And I believe everyone may edit as they please without interference from anyone else, unless you plan to edit your life so that you intend to off me somehow. I might complain then.

I mention the article because my take on things is contrary to many that are of the same guild as I am in religion. I would write the character as the character would be written and move along. Would my views cost me some acquaintances? Yes, and it already has. But I believe that art should imitate life. Put what you believe into what you create.

I put the Hemingway quote at the beginning for a reason. Writing honestly will cost you some friends, perhaps many. Your life may end up a lonely one because you cannot make everyone happy. If you are making everyone happy then you are perhaps not being completely honest with yourself or your writing.

Readers want honesty. They are drawn to it. They revile the obvious snubs and cowardice of an author who runs from an issue. Some readers will never admit to reading the book, but they will read it. And…they will learn from it. That’s what we do, we allow them to escape into a place they want to be but cannot seem to get to. Be it a space adventure, a romance, a magical ride through another land, or yes, even admitting that there are real lives in the world that are not like our own but still exist and the world keeps turning as it always has anyway.

Now here comes the question all writers must face. Do you want to be true to yourself and your art and possibly end up lonely but free or be popular and unsatisfied with what should have been? And is perhaps honestly actually the popular in truth after all?

Rose & Ghun in Simply Murder-Episode Seven: Not Like Old Times

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gettyimages © Original Photo by Paul LoveKing

“What’s so important about Miles Stratford?” I asked.

Lori leaned forward on the step beside me. “We have to find him and settle things,” she said.

“You mean kill him.”

“He killed one of ours.”

“How can you be sure it really wasn’t an accident? He could have just been driving that fast,” I said.

“There was no accident,” said Lori. “There was a battle. Miles and Phyllis were in the same nightclub when things became uncomfortable. She left, he followed and then he forced her car into a spin. When she stopped he and another man jumped out and went after her.”

“Two on one, not very gentlemanly,” I said.

“It was two on two,” said Lori. “But the other was pinned for too long. Phyllis was dead and the sirens were sounding so Miles and his friend ran.”

“And the pinned friend?”

“She freed herself and made it home. But some witnesses had seen Miles speeding away and it was assumed that it was a hit and run,” said Lori.

I looked at Monika. She was staring at the ground and her fists were clenched. She was holding anger inside, she was shaking that much.

“We can handle this, Lori,” said Martin.

“No we cannot, not the way Trevor can,” said Lori. “This is what he does. We are simply fighters. He is as a detective who avoids fighting. He will think our way out of this and if not he can fight it out.”

“He needs her to protect him,” said Martin. “Look at him, he is broken already. A man that does not fight is not a man.”

Monika was in Martin’s face before any of us blinked. “He took down Marcos Li in a matter of seconds, could have killed him. He had a pistol shoved down the throat of Stratford. What have you done?”

“Not be trapped in a car,” said Martin. His eyes betrayed his regret at the words before his lips closed over the last syllable. It was as I thought. Monika was the trapped friend who had watched as her sister had been decapitated.

“Well, either Carl Stratford was lying or he really doesn’t know where his son is. Either way it’s time to get started,” I said. I stretched slightly to disguise the need to get rid of the numbness in my butt from sitting on the steps so long.

“Where to start?” Lori asked.

I smiled. “Miles is a child of this generation. Kid can’t go without a cell phone and I imagine he has a high priced one. I’m going to see if I can track it down.”

They all looked at me with blank looks. “What?” I asked.

Monika shook her head. “That is the simplest thing I have ever heard of. Why we did not think of it is beyond me.”

Lori smiled. “Because we were not thinking like a detective. Why do you think I sent you to him?”

“Because you still think he’s cute,” said Monika.

I blushed.

Martin stood taller. “She’s a married woman, little one. Be mindful.”

It was my turn for a facial reaction.

Lori frowned slightly and turned away.

The memories of the pressure from the greeting burned away.

Rose & Ghun in Simply Murder-Episode Six: Say What?

Rose&Ghun Cover.jpg
gettyimages © Original Photo by Paul LoveKing

 Rose & Ghun in Simply Murder-Episode Six: Say What?

By: Ronovan

The house was a long rambling one story structure set up on stilts. Like I said we had passed through almost swampy marsh type land before, well we were even deeper now. Moss hung from the trees surrounding the house in a veil that hid it from day and night.

It had been a long time since I had been here, been welcomed here. “You sure they know I’m coming?” I asked.

“What do you think?” Monika asked as she nodded to the railing above. We stood and stared up at the line of people. It wasn’t the happiest gathering I had ever seen. I recognized a lot of faces…with the same unhappy looks I had last seen years ago.

“I’m not dead, so I guess that’s a yes.”

Monika moved first and headed toward the wide stairs leading up to the house. I followed close behind. I didn’t want any space between us in case a family member got jumpy. They would have to hit her if they went after me.

“Walking might close to her, boy,” said a deep voice. I looked around but the voice could have come from anyone.

Most of the people seemed to be glancing toward an older man, a big man. I would say ugly man but I don’t want to be mean. Okay, he was ugly too. But I don’t mean that in a bad way. “She’s been my protector the past 12 hours or so and been doing a good job. I see no reason to interfere with her record,” I said. I voiced it to the crowd as I looked at everyone.

I had guessed right. The big man slowly nodded. “Smarter than you look then,” he rumbled. “Looks like she didn’t do too good a job with that face.” I touched my left eye and lip. “No, I mean the other side.”

My mouth dropped a little and the crowd laughed. I smiled with relief. But I wasn’t going to let my guard down yet. Monika had stayed close to me and she wasn’t relaxed at all. “No sir, she was a bit late for that one.”

“Trevor, are you going to give me a hug or stand there like an idiot?” I looked in the direction of the question. There was Lori looking as young as ever. I climbed the step two at a time and she met me near the top. The hug was sincere and long. The feel was familiar and wanting. And the fingers pressed with more than a welcome.

“Get off of her!” The voice was closer than I would have thought. I was thrown back against the rail and toppled over. I twisted in the air and landed lightly on my feet as my knees bent slightly to adjust for the impact.

“Martin, no!” The shout from Lori was a bit too late as a figure flew down toward me. He didn’t make it.

A much smaller figure blurred across and slammed into the man, knocking him clear of me. Monika landed and crouched down between the two of us. “I’m his protector. Didn’t you hear the man?”

Martin stood up. He was the biggest man I had ever seen, while I was standing up and not bleeding. “He’s not welcomed here. Then he touches my sister.”

“She sent me for him,” said Monika.

“And I told him to touch me,” said Lori. “And I touched him back.” She landed beside Monika.

Martin stared through clenched eyes toward me. “You letting women fight for you?”

“Dang right,” I said. “I would rather women fight for me than men.”

There was silence for several moments. I heard mosquitoes, frogs, and maybe an alligator. Then I heard salvation. A slightly muffled giggle came from above. Then others joined in. Martin’s face began to twitch. Then his lips spread into a toothy smile that gleamed in the shadows of the mossy trees. He nodded his head. “Okay, I agree,” he said as he moved forward.

I relaxed slightly as he passed by me. “But no touching my sister,” he said and jabbed me with a finger.

“I don’t go where not invited. I’ll just say that,” I said.

He glared at me and then slowly began walking up the stairs. I looked at Monika and Lori. Monika was watching Martin and Lori was watching me. “Same sense of humor and bravado,” she said. “But you’ve picked up some moves.”

“Move or die,” I said.

“He would have lost,” she said.

“If I lasted long enough.”

“You would have. You’ve always been a fighter, in will if not in ways,” she said.

“Big enough hit and my will would have no say.”

She looked at me and concern spread through her eyes. “You’ve survived all these years, barely. If he even grazed your skin he would have burned.”

“You don’t,” I said.

She smiled. “We shared a moment before it all changed.”

I looked at her and the feelings swirled and the turmoil began again that I had fought for so many years. “Why did you send her to me?” I asked and looked away.

She could tell the pain I was in. I could hear it in her voice as she spoke. “A war has started. Our clan against another. Not of our doing but we have to fight. We need you to help stop it.”

“You saying help you I’m your only hope?” I asked as I channeled one of my favorite movies.

She slowly nodded. “Yes, that’s what I’m saying.”

I looked away and Monika caught my eye. There was a touch of pleading there. I sat down on the steps of the house and hung my head in my hands. “What demons do I have to fight?” I asked.

“It’s not which ones you have to worry about,” said Lori.

I looked up.

“It’s how many,” said Monika.

God, what are you doing up there?