Daily writing prompts from June 9th, 2008 to December 31st, 2022
Monday January 6th, 2020
The exercise: Write about something: gradual. First Oliver to Osoyoos commute went smoothly. Almost fully unpacked at the new house. Just need to get stuff up on the walls. Things are gradually coming together.
Is the commute long? And is going to get worse when the schools restart, or have they already restarted for you? And it sounds like you've practically forgotten moving day already!
Gradual The desk sergeant, a middle-aged woman with worry lines on her forehead and crows’ feet at the corners of her eyes and a photograph of three children, probably hers, on her desk, lectured him for fifteen minutes while he filled in forms for her on the correct procedure when finding evidence when alone and without backup. “At least you bagged it up correctly,” she said, with a sigh, and let him go. He managed a half-smile and managed to find the stairs without having to ask for directions. The third floor actually stretched through two buildings; the original police station had been extended on the third and fourth floors some years ago when there had been more people and more need for desk space. The original building had rooms labelled P1—P15 and the additional rooms, which had been part of the Mooreton Hotel, were labelled M300—M324. Collins found his way to the cut-through, a large archway between the buildings, and then along the narrower corridors of the hotel. M317 was in the middle of the corridor; he knocked on the door and waited for permission to enter. “Come in!” called the Inspectral, and Collins pushed the door open. The room on the other side had been a king-size room in the original hotel and was larger than the Inspectral’s office. The far wall had windows from the ceiling to half-way down, and a long work-bench ran all the way in front of them. A door to the left let into the en-suite bathroom, and three desks were lined up opposite it. A whiteboard hung above each desk, and some low metal lockers were set neatly against the wall by the entry door. The Inspectral and Adams were both sat at the middle of the three desks, and a tall, slender woman with brunette hair down past her waist was standing at the work-bench looking out of the window. “You must be Collins,” she said, not turning round. Collins nodded, then realised she couldn’t see him, and said “Yes!”. His voice squeaked, and he blushed. “We have just started,” she said. “There is rage around this skull, but it is not unfocused.” There was silence and Collins wondered if he was supposed to say something. He racked his brain, wondering if there was something he’d seen at the beach that was relevant, but before he could find anything the Psychic Forensic Expert gasped sharply. Collins moved slightly and could now see that she was holding the black box. “There is crushed bone in the box,” she said. Her voice shook very slightly. “Different bone, different source. Rituals with the intent of evil have been performed with this bone, or around it.” “Blasphemy?” The Inspectral’s neutral voice seemed almost out of place in this room. “Heresy,” said the the PFE slowly. “Gradual heresy; this is old, old bone. It was gathered, I think, from somewhere where these rituals have been performed for centuries.” Adams sighed. “That’s got to be the Mooreton catacombs,” she said. “The sea tunnels; the smugglers were using them from at least the twelfth century. We’re going to need a search team if we’re going down there.” “Wait,” said the Inspectral. He laid a hand just above her arm, his fingers not quite touching her sleeve. “That’s the bone in the – in, or inside the box?” “In,” said the PFE. “It’s part of the structure of the box. Inside the box is only the skull.” “We find the rest of the body first,” said the Inspectral. “We worry about the box later.” Collins saw the glare that Adams gave the back of the Inspectral’s head, and decided to look at the PFE instead.
For the city folk, the snow monsters' arrival was a gradual thing. There were the mysterious disapperances in the high country, then in the mountain valleys. But they didn't really realize something was desperately wrong until an entire town in a mountain valley was depopulated overnight.
Then fear set in, along with a bevy of government scientists.
Oh no, I thought. I had to pee. I steeled myself as I pushed up from the couch and started to limp-shuffle my way to the bathroom. My calves seized up with each step, lurching me forward as if I was a war veteran with shrapnel imbedded in the muscle. I could barely lift my foot high enough off the ground to glide against the carpet to its next position. My core and back rippled in lashes of fire as it tried to hold me in a semblance of an upright position. What should have taken me a couple of seconds ended up taking close to half a minute. Once inside, one look in the mirror showed only the barest hint of a change to my puffed belly and even that could’ve been just my imagination and wishful thinking. That was the sucky thing about New Year’s Resolutions, you always wanted an immediate result and were disappointed when it didn’t happen. But I had other reasons to lose the weight, more important ones than the “New Year, New Me” crap everyone always sprouted. So as I struggled with the aches and the fire tearing my muscles apart, I tried to keep that slightest sliver of additional space I saw in front of my navel as a trophy that I was on the right track.
Greg - no, not really. Went from about 7 minutes at the old place to around 20 minutes now. Traffic's been fine and I don't expect that to change until summer, when my drive home might take a little longer. It's almost entirely highway driving though, so it shouldn't be too bad.
I am enjoying your gradual reveal of each character we've already met, and your secondary characters are adding to things quite nicely. I am looking forward to watching this one play out.
Morganna - ooh, I could see this continuing on as well! I'd say 2020 is off to a good start around these parts :)
Ivy - this is great! Feels very realistic, and I appreciate the point of view being taken here. There's real inspiration to be found here :)
4 comments:
Is the commute long? And is going to get worse when the schools restart, or have they already restarted for you? And it sounds like you've practically forgotten moving day already!
Gradual
The desk sergeant, a middle-aged woman with worry lines on her forehead and crows’ feet at the corners of her eyes and a photograph of three children, probably hers, on her desk, lectured him for fifteen minutes while he filled in forms for her on the correct procedure when finding evidence when alone and without backup.
“At least you bagged it up correctly,” she said, with a sigh, and let him go. He managed a half-smile and managed to find the stairs without having to ask for directions.
The third floor actually stretched through two buildings; the original police station had been extended on the third and fourth floors some years ago when there had been more people and more need for desk space. The original building had rooms labelled P1—P15 and the additional rooms, which had been part of the Mooreton Hotel, were labelled M300—M324. Collins found his way to the cut-through, a large archway between the buildings, and then along the narrower corridors of the hotel. M317 was in the middle of the corridor; he knocked on the door and waited for permission to enter.
“Come in!” called the Inspectral, and Collins pushed the door open.
The room on the other side had been a king-size room in the original hotel and was larger than the Inspectral’s office. The far wall had windows from the ceiling to half-way down, and a long work-bench ran all the way in front of them. A door to the left let into the en-suite bathroom, and three desks were lined up opposite it. A whiteboard hung above each desk, and some low metal lockers were set neatly against the wall by the entry door. The Inspectral and Adams were both sat at the middle of the three desks, and a tall, slender woman with brunette hair down past her waist was standing at the work-bench looking out of the window.
“You must be Collins,” she said, not turning round. Collins nodded, then realised she couldn’t see him, and said “Yes!”. His voice squeaked, and he blushed.
“We have just started,” she said. “There is rage around this skull, but it is not unfocused.”
There was silence and Collins wondered if he was supposed to say something. He racked his brain, wondering if there was something he’d seen at the beach that was relevant, but before he could find anything the Psychic Forensic Expert gasped sharply. Collins moved slightly and could now see that she was holding the black box. “There is crushed bone in the box,” she said. Her voice shook very slightly. “Different bone, different source. Rituals with the intent of evil have been performed with this bone, or around it.”
“Blasphemy?” The Inspectral’s neutral voice seemed almost out of place in this room.
“Heresy,” said the the PFE slowly. “Gradual heresy; this is old, old bone. It was gathered, I think, from somewhere where these rituals have been performed for centuries.”
Adams sighed. “That’s got to be the Mooreton catacombs,” she said. “The sea tunnels; the smugglers were using them from at least the twelfth century. We’re going to need a search team if we’re going down there.”
“Wait,” said the Inspectral. He laid a hand just above her arm, his fingers not quite touching her sleeve. “That’s the bone in the – in, or inside the box?”
“In,” said the PFE. “It’s part of the structure of the box. Inside the box is only the skull.”
“We find the rest of the body first,” said the Inspectral. “We worry about the box later.”
Collins saw the glare that Adams gave the back of the Inspectral’s head, and decided to look at the PFE instead.
For the city folk, the snow monsters' arrival was a gradual thing. There were the mysterious disapperances in the high country, then in the mountain valleys. But they didn't really realize something was desperately wrong until an entire town in a mountain valley was depopulated overnight.
Then fear set in, along with a bevy of government scientists.
Oh no, I thought. I had to pee.
I steeled myself as I pushed up from the couch and started to limp-shuffle my way to the bathroom. My calves seized up with each step, lurching me forward as if I was a war veteran with shrapnel imbedded in the muscle. I could barely lift my foot high enough off the ground to glide against the carpet to its next position. My core and back rippled in lashes of fire as it tried to hold me in a semblance of an upright position.
What should have taken me a couple of seconds ended up taking close to half a minute.
Once inside, one look in the mirror showed only the barest hint of a change to my puffed belly and even that could’ve been just my imagination and wishful thinking. That was the sucky thing about New Year’s Resolutions, you always wanted an immediate result and were disappointed when it didn’t happen.
But I had other reasons to lose the weight, more important ones than the “New Year, New Me” crap everyone always sprouted. So as I struggled with the aches and the fire tearing my muscles apart, I tried to keep that slightest sliver of additional space I saw in front of my navel as a trophy that I was on the right track.
Greg - no, not really. Went from about 7 minutes at the old place to around 20 minutes now. Traffic's been fine and I don't expect that to change until summer, when my drive home might take a little longer. It's almost entirely highway driving though, so it shouldn't be too bad.
I am enjoying your gradual reveal of each character we've already met, and your secondary characters are adding to things quite nicely. I am looking forward to watching this one play out.
Morganna - ooh, I could see this continuing on as well! I'd say 2020 is off to a good start around these parts :)
Ivy - this is great! Feels very realistic, and I appreciate the point of view being taken here. There's real inspiration to be found here :)
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