Fictional Fridays #10

My college life is taking up all of my time these days and with my exams approaching, I’ve had no time to churn out new stories. For what’s left of April and for three weeks of May, I won’t be posting on Mondays. Vocab Wednesdays will make a comeback in May and I will be posting fiction on Fridays. This is an unfinished novel I’d entered as my Camp NaNo project in July 2013. It’s filled with terrible clichés, but I was pretty inexperienced back then and I didn’t have a lot of original ideas. Although I’m not very proud of it, I’ve learnt a lot from it and it’s actually not all that bad for an 18-year-old. Plus, I love the covers! Then again, my pseudonym needs a bit of work.

Prologue

Jason stared into the cold, glinting eyes of the figure looming over him.
“Nowhere to run,” whispered the shadow. “The game is over and your time is up.”
He didn’t respond. The voice was vaguely familiar but he couldn’t place it. He had no leverage over this stranger; no way to bargain for his life.
“Oh, you know me alright! But this time, there’s nothing that you can offer to get yourself out of this. She sends her regrets.”
Jason felt his life flash before his eyes. Every mistake, every stupid move he had ever made came flooding in. He never thought he would end up like this.
“Goodbye, Jason.”
The last thing he heard was the retreating footsteps of his killer.

Chapter 1

4:11 am
21st October 2003

A shrill beep made Percy dive for the phone on his desk. The phone was a cheap pay-per-use.

“For your own safety,” he had said. Percy trusted him. If there was ever a man who knew what had to be done and how to do it, it was this man.

Percy flipped the phone open.

1 new text message. Job done, but I dint do it.

Percy re-read the words almost a dozen times before the message sank in. He collapsed onto his chair, beads of sweat running down his forehead.

‘..but I didn’t do it,’ the line repeated in his head over and over again.

What did that mean? He didn’t do it? Did he get someone else to do it? Or did some other party finish the job? If it was someone else, why would they want this job done?

Questions bombarded his unresponsive brain as he looked out over the spectacular view of his landscaped gardens. Mr. Percy Winchester came from a wealthy family. His mansion was his only sense of security in a world filled with enemies. Being a politician meant a lot of things. Now it meant getting answers.

Suddenly, the door opened. A slender, upright figure with sleepy eyes and furrowed brow came in. Percy glanced at her listlessly. She raised her hand to shield herself from the sudden harsh glow of the table lamp.

“It’s past 4 am!” she exclaimed.

“I know, Chelsea. Please get some sleep. I have work,” he replied, his tone flat.

“Of course.” The resignation in his wife’s voice was evident.

“It’s really important. I’m sure you understand. Please, dear, get some sleep.”

“Of course.” The same defeated tenor.

Percy didn’t notice his wife’s eyes scan the place and search his face for clues. He didn’t see the flash of confusion on her face when she noticed his perplexed expression. He didn’t see the glint of curiosity consume her observant gaze. He only saw the simple, meek girl he had once loved. He didn’t see what she had become; what he had turned her into.

“Good night,” Chelsea called behind her shoulder as she turned and departed, closing the door softly.

He went back to his musings. He couldn’t sleep, he couldn’t rest till he knew more.

Determined to find out, Percy Winchester did something he’d never do. He broke the rules which the man had taken a lot of pain to impress upon him.

He took up his personal phone and dialled his secretary. It took only two rings for her to respond.

“Yes, sir?” Barbara’s normally alert voice was now fuzzy with sleep.

“You have the number you’d taken down for me two nights ago? I need it right away,” he said, his heart racing.

“Yes, sir.”

A few minutes later, Percy punched in the number into the disposable phone. He hit dial. He needed answers. And when Percy Winchester needed something, he always got it.


 

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4 thoughts on “Fictional Fridays #10

  1. Pingback: Fictional Fridays #11 | Pages That Rustle

  2. Pingback: Fictional Fridays #13 | Pages That Rustle

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