Friday February 27th, 2015

The exercise:

Write four lines of prose about: the saboteur.

How is it the second last day of February already? March begins on Sunday? Craziness.

Kat's dad and I got the shower rod and light fixture installed this afternoon. I was supposed to do the caulking work afterward but I ran out of steam, so that'll have to wait until tomorrow.

Part of the reason I didn't have the energy for more renovation fun was that I spent the morning with Max, getting reacquainted with our home town. We hit our favorite coffee shop, the hardware store, and a couple other places we used to frequent.

Ran into a few people we know as well, which is always nice. It's good to be back.


The street market is crowded, full of impatient shoppers with sharp elbows and sharper glares - not to mention the soldiers, both uniformed and undercover. It's unpleasant as hell, but it's also popular for a very good reason: the best produce in the city can be found here.

Which is all well and good, but I need to find my contact somewhere in this mess.

Or perhaps not... though I'll have to wait until I reach a more private location before I can confirm that the new weight in my back pocket is indeed the information on my next target.


Greg said...

It's the last day of February here :-P But yes, the year is off to a flying start already, and looks not to be slowing down, so I'm sure you'll be marvelling at it being November in no time at all. I won't say I told you so about the caulking. I really wont' :) It sounds like it's been good being back though for you and Max!
Your saboteur seems like the clever sort, and I like the idea that the soldiers are both uniformed and uncover – a clever way to lull people into thinking that they're safe because they can't see a uniform. That's a great detail.

The saboteur
"Wearing shoes is the Devil's work!" yells the young woman, predictably barefoot, as she throws a grenade into the workshop. It's clear, moments later as the greasy smoke cloud starts to lift, that she had no idea what she was actually throwing. The workshop is ruined; machinery has been hurled aside by the blast and crushed workers, raw materials and other machines against walls and each other. Blood, from any number of sources, stains the floor and trickles out into the street, and the barefoot young woman shakes her head, deafened by the blast, and looks bemused.

[Inspired somewhat by the etymology of the word.

Anonymous said...

His eyes were immediately drawn to the swaying roundness of her red silk-clad ass as she walked away from him. Even as the precious seconds were ticking by, his window of escape narrowing, he couldn’t help but imagine his teeth sinking into all that flesh. He checked the box on his way to the back of the gala and froze mid step.
That little minx had taken the Jaguar’s Eye from right under his nose.

Marc said...

Greg - ha, that's a great take, I really like how you drew on the etymology as well.

Ivybennet - hmm, I dare say he got what was coming to him!