Well, here is the intro to one of the longer pieces I have been working on. I hope to continue further with developing this, as well as getting back into writing some more children's stories. I really enjoy mythology and would like to come up with something or some things on this for children, I'm just unsure of what angle to go about for that yet. Anyways, any input would be appreciated, either here, or on facebook, a message, or text if you are one of the lucky enough ones to be able to contact me in any of those ways. By god, in person would be even more awesome! I've not many close friends that are into writing but any input whatsoever would be helpful. Honest! :) Hope you enjoy.
Ripple Effect
Ripple Effect
He
was a lawyer. He had witnessed many injustices. Hell, he’d even helped slide
some under the rug so to say. But after her death, everything was different. He
was different. No more injustices. He strived to only take cases he truly
believed in; only those who truly needed his help. Many times he did it for
much less than he would have ever imagined. Nowadays, he worked to survive; worked
to keep his downtown bachelor apartment heated and a scattered meal in the
fridge. Yes he told himself, he would help this latest woman with her case. He had been
unsure about her whole situation and if he would even be capable of helping her but she
was a nun for god sakes! A nun! He laughed to himself, rushing to his jeep,
keys dangling in hand, briefcase ready to explode with the mass of unorganized
papers within. Swinging the driver’s door open, he slid swiftly inside and
thought of the nun with her fair skin and orange lock of hair. She reminded him
so much of his daughter. At seventeen Meghan had been murdered. This occurred
only two years ago and he was still not over it. It was still fresh in his
mind. He still craved for some sort of justice. The nun was very polite and
caring, fragile but strong. Just like Meghan. Looks can be deceiving. To most,
Meghan was just a tiny fragile girl, but he knew her more than anyone. She had told
him everything. Or so he chose to believe. When she told him of the older guy
she was seeing he did the best he could to end it, but she put up a fight. She had
something smart to say in her defense to everything sensible he had to say
about it. Strong-willed that girl, just like her mother was, right up until the
day that the cancer took her. Her mother would have been able to talk some
sense into her. His eyes quickly welled up as he once again told himself he was
a failure. Sometimes he would think about them while driving and he would be at
his destination before he even knew he had made a right, a left, or even took
his exit off of the highway. It was sort of mechanical now. He drove this route
from his apartment to his tiny office in the suburbs often. His business ran
well out that way, with the new clients he was catering to since he left his
old corporate job. They came from all over, but his price was more than fair
now, and he was in it for all of the right reasons. Once he got on the long
stretch of road before the highway, he glanced at his watch, letting out an
exasperated breath as he pressed harder on the gas pedal. He rolled down his
window and breathed in the fresh air before leaning over to grab the nuns file
which he had placed underneath his briefcase. He’d better give it another
glance before their meeting, he thought to himself. Just as he had placed his
hand on it, he hit a bump and the briefcase flew open. Paper starting blowing
wildly around the car. Within seconds, his gaze returned to the road only to see
the headlights of an oncoming vehicle in his lane! Or was he in their lane? He couldn't tell. There was no time to register such things…..
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Something
warm and sticky tickled the corner of his eye. On instinct, he attempted to
raise his hand to wipe it away but his arm wouldn't cooperate, as if the force
of gravity was pinning it where it lay. Shocked, he turned his head towards the
arm only to realize that his eyes would not open. Straining to open them, he finally
managed to open the left which immediately attempted to focus in the dimness of
its surroundings. Gazing through a watery and hazy view, upon an arm that was
twisted in such a way that it was hard to tell if it was even a limb at all, he
realized that he couldn't even feel any sensation in this arm, and so it took
him a few seconds to realize that it was indeed his. As if responding to this
realization, a slight buzzing sounded from deep within his head and grew in such
momentum that it was hard to concentrate on anything. Abruptly his whole body
stiffened as a wave of pain seemingly coursed through every nerve ending within
his body, overwhelming him to the point where he couldn't tell which part ached
more, as there wasn't a part that felt left unscathed with at least some sort
of scratch or contusion.
Craning
his neck, he strained to get a better look at what lay directly in front of
him. Looking beyond the broken edges of glass that outlined what used to be the
windshield of his beloved jeep, in the far distance he could make out the thick
wall of green trees lining the horizon. Straining to focus his sight, he could
barely make out the body of a thin pale woman sitting slumped over the steering
wheel of a severely rusted brown Cavalier, which was so badly crumpled that its
hood seemed to no longer exist. It was at that moment that he heard the long
drawn out wail of a young child. Unable to tell if it came from a young boy or
girl, it penetrated his thoughts until it was all he could hear. “Mommmmmy” the
child cried over and over, through bursts of emotional sobs which were
immediately followed by long drawn out silences that only seemed to echo the
childs cries within his head. Before the echoes would dissipate, another sob would
break through the echoing silence and penetrate his mind once more with its
shrillness. He began to feel a great anxiety, for
the need to comfort whomever this sorrowful wailing erupted from.
Attempting to free himself from the twisted metal that bore into his
left leg, and after failing several attempts to do so, He called for someone to
help the child. No answer came, and as he looked to the far right of the
cavalier, he could barely make out the figure of a slender woman on her knees, bent
over the ground, a tangle of long orange hair splaying about the dirt and rubble.
The figure then scrambled to a standing position and raised her hands high
above her head, grasping them together high in the air. After blinking, he could
make out that the woman had a rosary wound about her hands. It dripped of ruby
red droplets. “Grace?” He questioned aloud. He couldn’t seem to focus enough to
confirm his thoughts. The child’s shrill wail sounded again and once the
silence returned, he called out again; directing his voice towards the woman,
and it was at this point that she seemed to hear him; for he saw her head turn
and glance his way, and then turn in the direction of the wail that penetrated
the air with its torturous agony. The woman abruptly threw down her arms and
scrambled towards the young child. Her black habit was strewn with rips and
reddened at the white about her neck. She swung open the door to the Chevrolet
and disappeared into the stained brownness of its interior until finally she emerged
with the figure of a tiny blonde-haired boy huddled into her body, sobbing uncontrollably
in her slender arms. The boy appeared to be unharmed. He saw as the woman pulled
the boy’s face from her chest and looked directly into his eyes. She wildly brushed
her hands through his hair and kissed his forehead repeatedly until she once more
held him to her chest and he could see her rocking him back and forth while her
lips stayed pursed at his ear. Closing his eye, he relaxed as best he could.
Before
long, the sound of wailing sirens alerted his senses. He could feel himself
going in and out of consciousness, but before he went into complete
nothingness, he glimpsed a young girl wearing an overly short skirt and brightly
colored low cut top, walking directly across the front of his vehicle, stepping
lightly over bits of broken glass and pieces of crumpled metal. Her glossy
aquamarine eyes had the look of pure shock in them, but there also seemed to
be a hint of terror mixed within the confused look. Her long slender legs started
to wobble as she suddenly began to stagger through the debris. Just as it
seemed as if she would fall, a man walked up to her and grasped her by the elbow
with his hand and led her away. As his gaze followed them they contorted and
merged with all of the colors and shades of their immediate surroundings.
Blinking his eye a few times just before everything went completely black, he
honed in on the face of the man looking anxiously back over his shoulder. He
could see the man’s face clearly now. All of its features, right down to the
chiseled, dimpled chin. His nostrils flared as hatred welled up within him.
Feeling flush, he closed his eyes and tried to slow down his breaths. He could
hear the fast-paced pulse of the blood rushing through his body mix in with the
distant sounding voices, cries, screams, and sirens, until everything slowly faded, growing quieter and quieter until
they trailed off into complete silence.
