Jillian Chantal

This week’s word for Tuesday Tales is seed.  We’re still in my story based in New York where the hero is searching for a runaway girl.

Be sure to check out the stories of the other writers in our group here. I’m sure they have used our word very cleverly.

Bennett came to stand beside me. “Are you ready to roll? It should be interesting.”

“Yeah, I’m more than ready. We need to take these people down. Hard.”

“Ride with me and Dawn. Roger is driving that rig over there and we’ll be with him.” Bennett pointed to a black truck with a skull and crossbones tag on the front bumper.

All the others seemed to know which vehicle they were assigned as they broke away and found their rides. I was impressed with the orderliness and precision. Hopefully, this boded well for the success of the mission.

When we were finally all aboard and our audience had grown to epic proportions, Bennett gave the signal to move out.

Our truck was the lead truck and as we roared away and toward the northern part of Manhattan, the seed of excitement that had settled in my gut grew.  There was nothing like the adrenaline of a mission. In this moment, I realized exactly how much I’d missed that part of my life. Perhaps I’d join Bennett’s group on a more permanent basis once I was able to rescue Shannon.

The thought of the girl made me pull her photo out of my pocket. I looked down at the school picture and reiterated the promise I’d made to that face many times. “I’m going to find you.”

“You know she’s probably not with these girls, right?” Dawn, seated on the back seat beside me, said.

“Yeah. I do but I can still keep promising her I won’t give up.”

She stared at me with an expression that seemed to say I was nuts but she wasn’t going to break the news to me just yet.

This week’s word prompt is truck.  I am back working on the story I featured a while back (that still has no title). This is a thriller and if you recall, our hero is a former cop from New York trying to find a runaway girl that’s the grandchild of a man he met on the Appalachian Trail. We pick up the story as he and his cohorts are planning a raid.

Be sure to check out the other tales here. 

She was right. I was being stupid. I knew the score but dammit, I was beyond frustrated at my helplessness.

Reluctantly, I nodded. “I know. Just thinking aloud.”

“Put your thinking to better use. We’ve got a closet here full of firearms. We need to check they are all in working order and cleaned.” Bennett glanced at his watch. “There’ll be a number of guys arriving soon. We’ll have several trucks—and I mean reinforced steel—trucks. Once we’ve loaded them with men and guns, we’re going to a place up near Washington Heights where there’s supposed to be an abandoned warehouse used to hide girls.”

“We’ve heard they’re mostly Russian so I’m not sure we’ll find your girl but we’ll at least save some women tonight,” Dawn said.

“Let’s get to work, then.” I followed Bennett to the closet and helped move the weapons to the table where we sat and made sure they were ready to go.

Before we finished the task, a number of men joined us. Sometimes entering alone and sometimes in groups. I was a little shocked not to see any females but then realized there was a bigger risk for them than for us guys. Sure, we could get shot but they could get captured and find themselves in the same situation as the women we planned to assist.

Looking over at Dawn, I asked, “Are you going on the mission with us or are you staying here?”

“I’m going. Why? Do you think it’s not the place for me?”

She was angry and I didn’t blame her. “I didn’t mean to offend you but take a gander around the room. You’re it in the feminine department.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve often been told I’m unique among people of my sex.” She struck a pose that was dead sexy but I pushed that to the back of my mind. No time for distractions.

This week’s word for the group of writers who join together to write to a word prompt each week is chain. From the moment I saw that was the word of the week, I had daisy chains in my head. We made these when I was a kid growing up in Virginia. And as it is October when my favorite holiday falls, I decided I’d write a piece of flash fiction. I tried to keep it under 500 words but I went a smidge over.  Hope you enjoy.

Be sure to check out the other tales here.

Daisy Chain

Lady Meredith sat on the grass with a pile of freshly picked daisies on her right side. Her skirt covered her knees but she knew she’d be in trouble with her mother as soon as she got home. Sitting on the ground in a white skirt was frowned upon by the duchess but Lady Meredith could no more have stopped herself than she could’ve stopped breathing. Daisies were her favorite and the field was so full and tempting.

Moving quickly as if that would stop the dewy grass from staining her garment, Lady Meredith wove the daisies into a chain by hooking the stems together end to end. She’d made so many of these over the years, her hands worked as if on their own and she didn’t even have to look down at the flowers to keep them pristine.

She was looking up when a woman came into the clearing. A right fright she was. Dressed in a long black gown that shimmered in the sunlight, the woman seemed to glide toward Lady Meredith. It didn’t seem as if the stranger had feet, she moved so effortlessly. The black hair that matched her dress and the large beak-like nose as well as the red rash on her face made Lady Meredith repress a shiver.

Having been taught from an early age to be polite to all, Lady Meredith greeted the woman with a smile that was difficult to keep on her face. Especially when the woman smiled back with a mouth full of yellow and broken teeth.

“What are you doing here in my forest? Picking my flowers?” the woman asked.

“I’m sorry, you must be mistaken, Madam. This is my father’s estate. The Duke of Lancaster. He owns these fields but I’m happy to share with you.” Lady Meredith held up the daisy chain. It was long enough now to be a necklace. “Would you like this as a token of my esteem?”

“We both know one such as you has no use for one such as me.” The woman pointed to the chain of flowers. “You put it on.”

Hoping to make the woman happy and that she’d leave, Lady Meredith placed the daisy chain around her neck.

Almost as soon as she did, the stranger lifted a hand that looked more like a talon and whispered some words under her breath.

The daisy chain came alive, as if it were possessed. Lady Meredith tried to pull it back over her head but couldn’t. As she struggled with it, the thing grew tighter and tighter until it was choking her so hard she lost her breath.

Placing her fingers up to her throat to break the connection and try to survive, she heard the woman say, “This was my land before this place was a country. No one cares about the Duke of Lancaster.”

Lady Meredith wanted to respond but she wasn’t in any condition to do so. Her last thought before dying from strangulation from a daisy chain was that at least her mother wouldn’t scold her over her ruined gown.

I haven’t worked on the story I’ve been sharing as I’ve been having some scary complications from my surgery. Things are not quite good yet but my doctor and I have a plan so no worries allowed.  So, this week, I’m sharing from a Regency era story I have almost ready to submit and since I have the word of the week in it three times, I decided to share it so I wouldn’t have to miss a week.

The word this week is coat. In the snippet I’m sharing, the hero has brought lunch to the park to share with the heroine.  Check out all the other stories here.

Their hands touched on the glass and he enjoyed the warmth of hers since she’d removed her gloves to eat.

“Sorry, you can have the first sip.” She tried to push the jar toward him.

“Nonsense. Ladies first.” He held on to the jar and lifted it to her lips. “Let me assist.”

He tilted the vessel gently until the liquid touched her mouth.

Watching her drink while he held the jar almost was his undoing. Who knew such an act would have such a sensual side? The way she took the ale in her mouth and swallowed it made him warm all over. When she licked her lips to take in the remainder of the liquid, he suppressed a moan.

She smiled and leaning forward, took the jar from him. “Now it’s my turn to help you since we both seem to need assistance today.”

“What makes you think I need assistance?”

“I don’t know what happened but you suddenly looked as if you were going to tumble over. Your face flushed and the hand holding the jar trembled. I hope you aren’t becoming ill.”

Ill with lust was more like it but he certainly couldn’t say that to her. “I think I’m all right now but if you want to assist me in drinking some ale, I won’t turn you down.”

“Good.” Briony stood and moved so she was standing in front of where he sat. Taking the jar in her hand, she leaned it toward him but spilled a couple of drops on the front of his coat. “Oh no, I’m so sorry.” She tried to dab it dry but he took hold of her wrist.

“It doesn’t matter. Horses have sneezed there too many times to count so never fear a bit of ale will ruin it.”

“That’s disgusting.” She made a face of horror.

“Never mind that. I’m parched.” He pretended to have a coughing fit. “I can only have my thirst quenched with the help of a sweet Guinevere.”

“Remember, I’m not a fan of the treacherous Lancelot so who are you?”

“King Arthur, of course.”

“So you’ve been promoted from the earl you were the other day?”

His stomach fell when she said those words. Here he was hoping not to hurt her by falling in love—which he realized he was already more than half-way there—and yet he was still deceiving her.

As promised, I am back with Tuesday Tales today.  I have picked up on the last story I was working on before I got too worried to do anything but fret.  As the reader may recall, this is a story with the hero on a quest to rescue a missing young girl.  Today’s word is crush.

Be sure to check out the other tales here. 

“I’m searching for a girl who ran away from her grandparents’ home in North Carolina. Her friend came back and said the girl left her to go on a job interview at a shop in Chinatown. I had met the grandfather on the Appalachian Trail and he called me. I called James, my former NYPD partner and asked if he had any ideas about where I could start. He gave me Charlie’s name. Even helped set up the meeting.”

“Too bad he didn’t know about the danger he was sending you into. The man has one of the roughest gangs around and they are vigilant in making sure their criminal dealings are successful. They don’t hesitate to kill.”

My gut dropped. Was I already doomed to fail to rescue Shannon? Was she being prostituted this minute? Right here, right now as I waited for fresh, hot coffee?

A sense of urgency overwhelmed me. I turned toward the exit.

“Stop, Kev. I know what you’re thinking and it won’t do one bit of good to go off half-cocked on some misguided and unplanned rescue run.”

Spinning around to address him, I slammed my hand on the counter. “How do I know the girl I’m trying to find isn’t being initiated into a horrible life right this instant? How can I stand here and let that happen?”

“Hang on, man. You have no idea where she is or if she’s already in the life. Chances are, if she’s been missing as long as it sounds like she has, she’s way past the initiation phase.” Bennett pulled some cups from the upper cabinet.

“That makes me feel even worse.” In my mind, I knew he was right. In my heart, this was killing me.

Someone touched my back.

“What?” I whirled around, speaking too gruffly as I was so angry over what may be Shannon’s fate. I knew she might be hooking on the streets but I’d never thought it through enough to get to the actual trafficking issue. Was she even still in New York? Has she been sold to the highest bidder? How many drugs had she been force-fed?

“Wait a sec, Vickrey. I wanted to let you know I was beginning to like you.” Dawn smiled. I could tell she was trying to jolly me out of my mood but this was something that couldn’t be glossed over.

“While I appreciate that, it doesn’t make me feel better. I’ve already failed this young girl.” I looked around for something to smash or crush. I desperately needed to punch something.