The Investigators—Prologue

This work is copyright Amanda Mayne November 2011.

"Hey, boss," Vincent Palmer shouted as he burst through the doors of the small office. "You can't be mad at me anymore."

"Oh," said his boss hardly glancing up from the spreadsheet he was studying, "and why's that?"

"I found her!"

The boss set his documents down and gave Vincent a hard look.

"Found who, Vincent?" As he said it, his eyes lit up as if he were hoping he already knew the answer. Vincent saw this and used the moment of anticipation to slip in a joke.

"The Easter bunny."

His boss did not appreciate the humor, his eyes looked about to shoot white hot flames. Vincent swallowed and continued.

"Oh, you know, I found Amelia."

The boss jumped up from his chair and beckoned his wife, who was waiting at the door, to come in.

"Honey, Vincent said he found Amelia!"

His wife grinned a deep grin that made it seem as though her whole small frame were smiling as well. She winked at Vincent.

"I'm always proud of my Vincent." She smirked.

The boss stepped toward Vincent and looked directly into his eyes, grabbing either side of his face to maintain it. "How did you manage it?"

Vincent held his bosses gaze and began, "Well, you know that joint account Amelia and I set up with our wedding money after our honeymoon-- thank you again, by the way, for that generous gift-- anyway, you know how I was supposed to close it after she left? I didn't."

"Shame, Vincent." The Mrs. Boss interjected.

"But that's how I found her. After all these years, she used the account! She withdrew about $2000 from a branch in Colorado!"

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Writing When I’m Angry

As he lay on the wet, muddy ground, Alair could think of nothing more than how badly he wished the rain would wash him away. He wished for the water around him to rise and to be swept in a vast, fast-moving current that led to nowhere in particular, anywhere but here. The rain pelted the bare skin on his arms, neck, and face, each drop hitting with enough force to cause a small stinging sensation for a moment or two. Though there were hundreds of drops, thousands, millions, Alair felt that each one must have represented something he had done wrong in his life—evil deeds, sins of omission, imperfections at work and school, the things he had taken for granted—as each raindrop reached his skin, Alair’s depression sunk deeper and deeper.

Newest Novel Idea: Part 5

Eventually I had to make my way back to the campus for my institute class.  I was taking Doctrine and Covenants this semester.  I was seriously thinking of skipping, when an overwhelming sense of duty overcame.

            I walked up the sidewalk towards the LDS Institute of Religion building, stepping over the obvious ice-patches.  I made it all the way up to the front doors before I found some black ice.  It is a well-known fact that I am one of the clumsier people, so naturally, I lost my balance and slid forward.  My forehead banged against door handle and I landed hard on my butt.  Rewards for doing the right thing, I suppose.

            A group of students that had been talking in the game room heard my fail and came to see if  was okay.

            “I’m fine,” I said, “Promise.” I got to my knees and looked up.  I found myself eyelevel with my own blood smeared across the door.

            “Kymber!?” I heard someone call out as if from under water as I faded from consciousness.

            I was out less than a minute and immediately tried convincing those around me that I was perfectly fine.

            “I just didn’t know blood made me queasy, I guess, now I do.  Everything’s good.  I’m just going to clean up now.”

            I walked down the hall to the ladies room where I soaked a wad of paper towels in the sink.  Then I pressed the dripping glob to my forehead with my left hand without looking in the mirror.  I was about to leave when I remembered the blood on the front door.  I grabbed another handful of paper towels with my right hand and then back to the foyer.

            Someone had beat me to cleaning up.  Standing only an arm’s length away was one of the cutest boys I had ever seen.  He had thick, dark, curly hair; he also wore glasses.  He was about 6 inches taller than me and average size, perhaps slightly chubby.  I froze.

            “Um . . . I was going to clean that up . . .”

            He turned and I saw his charming smile turn into a face of concern.  “Is this yours?” He asked referring to the blood. I nodded. “Are you okay?” Again I nodded.

            He put the rag he was holding in a bucket next to his feet.  I wondered where he had found cleaning supplies so fast, but then remember that the custodial closets were always left opened since the members were in charge of keeping the building clean.  The handsome stranger held out his hand to me.  I shook his hand, absent mindedly transferring the wad of paper towels from my hand to his.

            “Greg,” He introduced himself.

            “Kymber.”

            “Nice to meet you,” he hesitated before asking, “Can I see it?”

            “What?” Then I remembered where I was and what was going on. “Oh, this!” I said stupidly as I removed the dripping glob of paper from my face.  It had turned slightly orange.

            “We’re going to put a band-aid on that immediately, I’m afraid,” he said mock-seriously.  Then he took off the backpack he was wearing and started shuffling though it.  He pulled out what looked like a home-made draw-string bag, complete with a glitter red-cross.  He lost a few manly-points for that.  He must have seen me eyeing the glitter because he said, “I’m such a klutz, so my sister-in-law made me this portable first aid kit, my 4 year-old niece helped.  She picked out the band-aids too, so I’m not sure what you’ll get.”

            “That’s fine,” I said, giggly stupidly.

            He used the dry paper towels I had given him to dry my wound.  Then he put Neosporin on a q-tip and gently tickled my sore forehead.  Then it was time for applying the bandage.  He pulled one out at random and opened it slowly. “And the winner is . . .” he teased as he pulled the wrapper off, revealing a blue monkey band-aid, “Dora the Explorer!  You’re going to have a Boots print on your head.” I laughed at his lame pun; it didn’t matter what he said as long as he just kept talking.

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Newest Novel Idea: Part 4

           The next morning I got up earlier than I normally would, meaning I only pushed snooze once.  I said a quick prayer, read a few scriptures and then I slid into a pair of dark jeans and a long sleeved t-shirt.

            There were two hours before my first class started at nine.  Usually, I didn’t even have 15 minutes before class after I get ready.  What was I going to do with all this time?  I was tempted to turn on my laptop and watch an episode of Monk, but I refrained.  Instead, I grabbed my iPod, keys, and coat, and headed out the door.

            One good thing about February is that the days get longer.  It was already light outside and it was only 7am.  The air was cold around me.  I drew in an icy breath and felt some of my negative energy leaving me.  I was outside.  It felt so good to be outside with nowhere to go.  I didn’t have to rush off to class or walk to the Wal-Mart to buy shampoo.  I had nowhere to go and two hours to get there.

            At first I stayed on campus, balancing on the edges of the fountain and flower beds.  I felt like a child again.  After a few minutes I strayed over to the institute building.  There was old heavy snow on the ground.  I attempted to make a snowman, but the snow was frozen solid.  If I stood perfectly still, I could stand on top of it without sinking.  It made me feel pretty good about myself knowing that I was light enough to be supported.   Obviously this was not the right kind of snow for snow angels either.  So I moved on.

            Around 45 minutes were spent walking around the cemetery.  A lot of people think that cemeteries are creepy, but I find them calm and serene.  I read the names and dates on almost every headstone I passed, mentally doing subtraction to figure out their ages.  There were the very young, children who died in infancy, and the very old; I found one man who had lived for 102 long years.

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Go to Part 5

Newest Novel Idea: Part 3

            I returned to my room to find Tamera still dreaming pleasantly.  I dropped my scriptures on the floor, a little too mercilessly, and then collapsed face first onto my bed.  I could feel my skirt riding up, and even though no one was around besides my unconscious roommate, it made me feel uncomfortable.

            I rummaged through my closet for a minute, trying to find something to change into, but then I gave up.  I pulled my PJs off the top of my hamper and slipped them on.  If I was going to be sulking, I would at least be comfortable.

            There was no real reason for me to feel so down on life, it was a conscious choice I made.  Some people wake up each morning, breath in the fresh air of a new day, stretch all their worries away.  Not me.  I wake up each morning thinking to myself why does morning have to come every single day?! I literally roll out of my bed and slink off to the bathroom.  I stare at myself in the mirror way longer than is required before I ever get out my make-up or hair supplies.  I just look into my eyes, trying to find the light that used to be there that is now gone.

            My attitude was a dimmer.  I closed the curtains on the windows to my soul.  I didn’t know if I really wanted anyone to see in.  I mean, I longed for romance, but I was afraid of friendship.  I guess I was kind of expecting love to just find me without much effort on my part.

            The light may have been dim, but it had always been there, until recently.  Somehow I couldn’t find it at all.  I’d just stare and stare thinking about what I’d done wrong and what I needed to do better.  But I couldn’t make myself change.  I wanted to change, but I didn’t believe I could, I guess.  My head was muddled.  My spirit was muddled.

            I’ve never been too good about daily prayer, personal scripture study, journal writing, etc.  I guess I’d been getting by on “borrowed light.”  But borrowed light was still light.  So what had happened to mine?

            I laid on my bed thinking about these things, once again.  I listened to Tamera’s steady heavy breathing, feeling slightly jealous that she could sleep in the middle of the day like that.  I’ve tried to, and usually about the time I drift off someone wakes me up to go to dinner.  I sat up; It was about dinner time now.  That’s what happens when Church doesn’t get out until 4 in the afternoon.

            “Tamera,” I said, loud enough to wake her, “Wanna go eat food?”

            “No.” She rolled over and pulled her lime green comforter over her head.

            I laid back down and stared at the MormonAds across the room.  I had put them up, perhaps to remind me to be better than I naturally am.  They weren’t working.  Or more aptly, I wasn’t working.  One of the posters taunted me to “rise above the blues.”  I ignored it and pulled out a box of cereal.  I didn’t feel like walking across campus again in this February weather.

            I’d prayed to God one hundred times to help me change, to help me become happier.  But had I really done my part?  Is happiness something you have to work at, or is it something some people just naturally have?  I wasn’t sure, but I was going to make the 101^st prayer count.  Tomorrow I was going to get out of my room.  I didn’t know where I would go, but sitting in front of a laptop watching chick flicks and crime shows was getting me nowhere. 

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Go to Part 4

Newest Novel Idea: Part 2

               Well, I was holding a guy’s hand at that very moment.  It was another one of those Mor-mon handshakes, and he was married anyway.

               “Hi, Kymber,” Brother Jinks, second counselor to the Bishop said with authority, “This is Joshua.”

               I took Josh’s hand.  Instant discomfort.  He was a dead-fish shaker.   This kind of hand-shake can only be made worse with cold hands, and Joshua’s hands were freezing.  Great, a dead fish on ice.

               “Can you guess why I just introduced you?”

               For a moment some part of me, a stupid and desperate part, entertained the idea that Brother Jinks might be hooking me up.  How did he know I needed a date?

               I looked over Joshua again.  His hair wasn’t dark, but it was thick.  I’d give him half cre-dit for that.  He was taller than me, another plus, though not hard to achieve.  He was a little scrawny, but I was a little overweight, so neither of us was really the gym-hitting type.  I guess this could work. Besides, then I could teach him how to properly shake hands.

               “I’m sure I don’t have a clue,” I told Brother Jinks.

               “You can’t think of any reason?”

               I shook my head and anticipation built up inside me.

               “We’re your new home teachers!” Brother Jinks exclaimed with much more enthusiasm than was actually required for these sort of things.

               “Oh, great,” I muttered, “I mean, good, good. That’ll be . . . nice.”

               That was it.  I was leaving.

               It’s so hard to be single in a church of families.  Okay, so I go to the single’s ward.  But half of those people are engaged or steadily dating.  They scratch each other’s backs in sacrament meeting.  The hold hands in Sunday school. And then they act like they’re parting for eternity when they have to separate for Priesthood and Relief Society.  It’s quite sickening.

               Usually it’s not so bad.  Tamera, my current roommate, usually sits with me, equally sin-gle.  But today, Tamera was sick and those had to be the longest three hours I’ve ever endured.

I missed the single’s ward I’d had at the community college.  Now that I was at the Uni-versity I felt even more insignificant and invisible.  I was one of 200 people in my ward.  My other ward had 60 people total.  I would be surprised if the Bishop even knew my name.  But there I go again.

                Brother Jinks and Joshua set up an appointment for later that week and I finally made my escape.

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Go to Part 3

Newest Novel Idea: Part 1

               It was finally over.  After three long hours I could go back to my room and take a much needed nap.  When I tell you what I’ve been doing for the last three hours you might be disappointed in my bad attitude.  In fact, I’m sure you’ve already guessed by now and are already considering putting this book down to read something a little more uplifting.  But don’t, just bare with me a little longer.

            I gathered up the fifty cutesy handouts the Relief Society teacher had printed out on cardstock and mercilessly shoved them in my scripture bag.  I looped the handle around my left arm and started to leave the room.  I realized my mistake only moments later.  My mistake was that I left my right hand free, something you should never do inside a Latter-day Saint building if you wanted to get out untouched.  I shook hands all the way from the classroom to the front doors.

            I’m not a germaphobe or anything, but I do have my own personal bubble which everyone at Church seems to want to invade.  This ward wasn’t as bad as others in that sense, I only had to worry about shaking hands here.  Back at home random old ladies would sit down next to me, put their arms around me and welcome me to Relief Society.

            “I can’t believe you’re already 18,” they’d tell me, a little too close to my ear, “I remember when you would run around in sacrament meeting with nothing but a diaper and skirt on.  You used to really hate shirts, didn’t you?”

            Well, I wear shirts all the time now.  Actually, I prefer to wear shirts with high collars, low waistlines, and longish sleeves.  I suppose that comes from being a Mormon, or maybe just that if someone is talking to me, I want them to be talking to me and not my chest or stomach.

            I’m also not 18.  I’m 21.  Twenty-one and single.  In fact, it’s worse than that.  I’m twenty-one years old and I’ve never had a boyfriend, I’ve never kissed, never held hands.  The last time I went on a date was when I was 18.  Which is partly my fault, I suppose.  After high school, where the only dances I attended were girls’ choice, I decided that it was the men’s turn to start asking.  I was headed for community college.  I wanted to go to a university, but this college was free!  They gave me a full-ride scholarship just for existing.  I was ecstatic.  College would be the perfect place, a fresh start from my awkward years.  Most exciting was the prospect of new datable men.  I soon found out, however, that my picture of college was all wrong.

            My freshman year I spent a lot of time in my dorm room with the door open waiting for friends to invite themselves into my life.  As a result, the only friend I actually made was the one who had no choice to be in the room as well, my roommate, Wendy Allen.  Wendy was great and we had a lot in common, the same music, the same movies, we both wanted to convert Michael Bublé and then marry him.  We’d fight over who could have him until we found out he was engaged.  Then we’d argue about who would get Zachary Levi.  Of course, then we found out he was a smoker.  So then we wouldn’t fight about anything unless I’d get in a sour mood. Then Wendy would tell me, “Kymber, STOP IT” in her perfect theatre major diction.  For some reason we haven’t talked since she graduated at the end of my freshman year.  I suspect I was a little overbearing, much like a giant black raincloud hovering overhead about to burst at any moment. But there I go being a Grumpy-Gus again.

            Wendy went on three dates while I knew her.  I know what you’re thinking, “Three dates?! She only went on three?”  Well, that was three more than I’d been on.  Not for lack of trying.  I tried everything, short of asking the guys myself, for three long years.  I’ve been from no make-up to lots of make-up to moderate make-up.  I went from t-shirts to blouses to Wal-Mart specials.  I’ve had long hair and medium and short.  Thin glasses, thick glasses, no glasses.  And with all my variety in bait, you’d think I would have caught at least a small fish.  But no.  Not one fish bit.

I did get asked on a date once freshman year, by Levi Haycock.  Wendy had helped me pick out the cutest clothes I owned, a green shirt and long flowing black skirt.  Then I did my make-up. I was in the middle of doing my hair when there was a knock at the door.  Surely it couldn’t be Levi, he was 45 minutes early!  It was Levi.  I answered the door with a curling iron up to my scalp.

“You look . . .” He began in his shy way, “Um . . . you’re not doing your hair for the date are you?”

“Um . . .” What did that mean? Levi hadn’t told me what we were doing.  Maybe I was over-dressed.  Maybe he was concerned I’d spent all this time on my hair and it would just get wind-blown.  Maybe he was taking me horse-back riding! “Why?” I asked.

“Um . . . I’m going to have to cancel, my roommate Joe . . .” He let his words fade out as he closed the door behind him.

As I listened to his footsteps retreating I gave Wendy an appalled look. All she said in return was, “Hair! Kymber, your hair!”

I stared her for a moment before realizing I still had the iron up to my head.  I lost a big chunk of hair that day, and that is when I went from long hair to short hair overnight.

Levi never explained why he stood me up and he never asked me out again.  I suppose I shouldn’t dwell on that too much, I just got his wedding invitation in the mail. Scott and Linda Allen would like to announce the marriage of their daughter Wendy Lynn to Levi Peter Haycock.

There was more, but I’ll spare you the details.  I don’t know how it happened.  They must have met up after graduation or something.  When they announced it on Facebook I thought it was some kind of joke.  We’ll see who gets the last laugh.

Here’s something I just don’t get.  A whole lot of my friends and acquaintances are married.  One in five of the people I know who are around my age (5 years either direction) are married, engaged, or have children.  How is this possible when I still stay up at night wondering what it feels like to hold a guy’s hand? 

Go to Part 2

Darkness in the Dorms

Almost everyone had gone home for the weekend, but a few residents remained in the old building that was Sessions Hall. The night was cold and stormy, and the residents were feeling restless. After a long discussion of what movie they should watch, A Goofy Movie eventually won the vote. Terra and Allie were each taking up a couch. Sierra and Chris were on a third couch, snuggled close together, Chris with one foot resting on the warn coffee table. Allie was sitting directly behind the love birds, using their headrest for her feet, and occasionally kicking Chris in the head. Every time this happened, Chris would look back at Allie with a glare, and Sierra would snuggle in a little closer.

            The four of them watched absent-mindedly, subconsciously munching on popcorn and Swedish fish. They were all thinking about the storm outside, that seemed to be growing more violent and nearer every hour. After the last burst of lightning Terra could only count to “two Mississippi” before the roaring clap of thunder, which had shook the entire building. Now she was pondering whether Sessions would crumble into dust if it were hit by one of the marvelous bolts.

            Just as she was about to dismiss this thought a flash of lightning and a simultaneous boom of thunder filled the air. The television flickered for a second, and then went off. One of the girls screamed, as the group was plunged into pitch blackness.

            No one moved for several moments, finally Chris spoke up, startling everyone.

            “It’s probably just a fuse,” he said, trying to reassure himself as well as the girls, “I’ll go check it out.”

            He pried himself from Sierra’s clutches, offered her a quick kiss, and then left the room, closing the door behind him.

           

            The girls sat in the dark, letting their eyes adjust. They spoke only in whispers, as if talking loudly would somehow bring about another attack from the angry sky. They continued munching mindlessly to ease their troubled minds. Finally, the snacks ran out.

            Sierra stood up, maybe in a vain search for more popcorn, or perhaps she just realized that her boyfriend was still gone and the power was still out. She looked about the room as if Chris might have somehow sneaked back in without her noticing. She turned to face the group.

            “You know, Chris had been quite awhile. I think I should go check it out.”

            No one argued while Sierra put her slippers on and wrapped herself in a Utah Jazz blanket. Chris was her boyfriend after all. If anyone was his keeper, it was Sierra.  She opened the door slowly, and poked her head out. She glanced back at the other two girls and vanished into the dark depths of the lobby.

            Amanda and Sarah were sitting in their room in the dark. Before the lights turned off, Sarah was thinking about starting her homework, and Amanda had been trying half-heartedly to clean her half of the room while sitting on her bed. Neither of them really cared that the power was out now, because that gave them an excuse to avoid their responsibilities. Both of them were content in the dark to just sit and talk about how dumb the boys upstairs were.

            “You know,” Amanda was saying, “Boys are like baby’s butts.”

            Sarah yawned and asked, “How’s that?”

            “Well, they’re kind of cute, but they’re still butts.”

            Sarah laughed in agreement.

The storm outside was growing more violent by the minute, but it didn’t even phase these roommates, who found electrical storms fascinating, and were in fact in the habit of singing and dancing in the rain. What did frighten them was the piercing scream that echoed throughout the long, deserted girls’ hallway.

Sarah reached for her booklight, and Amanda flipped open her phone. The dim light was just enough to cast an eerie glow across the girls faces. They glanced at each other, then Sarah reached out and grasped the handle. She held it for a moment and then let it go as if it were on fire.

“What are we doing?!” She half whispered. “If you hear someone scream, you don’t go out to investigate it! I don’t watch horror movies, but even I know that!”

“What should we do then? Call the police? What if it was just Allie yelling at Chris?” Amanda rationalized.

Though the scream didn’t sound like Allie, Sarah agreed that maybe she was overreacting a bit. It was probably just the storm. As fascinating as it was, it did leave her a little on edge. She reached for the handle again and pushed the door open.

The girls stepped out and look right to the end of their hall. Everything appeared normal, so they rounded the corner to the long hallway and almost ran straight into Sierra. All three girls screamed until they realized who each other was.

“Sierra!” Sarah exclaimed, somewhat relived. “What’s going on?”

Sierra started talking frantically, bringing herself almost to tears, “There was someone in my room! They climbed out through my window! See?”

She led Sarah and Amanda into her bedroom. The blinds and curtains were slapping the sill violently against the wind.

“Are you sure?” Amanda asked.

Sierra nodded and backed out of the room. The other two followed, and closed the door behind them.

“Chris went to figure out how to turn the power back on, I went to find him, but he wasn’t where I thought he would be. I went to my room to grab a flashlight, and when I opened the door someone was staring at me.”

“So you screamed and he fled?” Sarah guessed.

Sierra nodded again, and the three of them walked to the game room where Sierra had last left Allie and Terra. They weren’t there.

Floss

Alexandra Simmons was sprawled out on her mattress, her head and right arm hanging over the side of the bed. Her chin was pointed at the ceiling and her long hair was tickling the tiles beneath her. Alex’s hair was soft and light. It was that color that is somewhere between blonde and brunette, but didn’t really belong to either category. She was chewing bubblegum and staring up at the floor. As she admired a scuff mark, no doubt made by her new sneakers, she realized just how very uncomfortable lying like this was.

            As Alex pushed off the floor and slumped onto the bed, she looked across the room where her roommate was saying rhyming words out loud. Teresa Robinson was the perfect roommate. Alex couldn’t have done better if she’d made the selection herself. They had so much in common, from their dress size to their shoe size, and their taste in movies to their taste in music. Teresa played the guitar, and Alex loved to sing. So now they were going to start a two-woman  band.

            Teresa put herself up to the task of writing the lyrics to their first song. She was sitting at her desk chewing the heck out of a poor pencil. Her dark hair had the tell tale bump of a pony tail that had recently been removed and was seriously frizzed out at the ends. She ran her fingers through her hair, they got stuck, making her only that much more frustrated.  Rhyming was harder than she had anticipated. She just could not find a suitable rhyme for the word “senseless.” The more she thought about it, the more determined she got to find the perfect word.

            “Your love made me senseless, with you I will fence less,” She tried. “Alex you’ve gotta help me with this one.”

            “No way,” Alex said, propping herself up on one elbow to get a better look at her friend. “This is your song, remember. You write the words, I make up the tune. Unless you want to trade,” she added eagerly.

            Teresa bit down harder on her pencil not justifying Alex with an answer. The “fence less” rhyme sounded the best so far, and that was what made her so angry. It was better than “my eyes are now lens-less” and “honey never ever rinse less” by far. But it still didn’t sound quite right, or even close, for that matter. This song would be stupid if she used any of those rhymes.

            “Come on,” she pleaded with Alex, “Don’t you want our first song to be good? How else are we gonna pick up men? This song has to be perfect.”

            Alex yawned and looked at the alarm clock which told her it was nearly 1:30 in the morning. Teresa loved to stay up late. Alex didn’t mind, but her class started at 8:00 the next morning, and anything less six hours of sleep would render her a zombie the next day.

            “ Well, I want a boyfriend as much as you,” she said as she changed into her pajamas, “but maybe you should scratch that line and try something else. I just want to go to sleep, but you won’t let me turn the light off.”

            “Alex, I don’t want to argue right now,” Teresa argued, “I like that line and I’m not going to bed until I find a rhyme. So are you going to help me or not?”

            Alex yawned again and let out a firm, “Not.” She defiantly flipped the lights off and crawled under her covers. Teresa was less than thrilled by this answer. She turned her desk light on and pointed it right at Alex’s bed, in the pillow area.

            “Mince-less, pence-less, wince-less . . .”

            Alex groaned. “I would wince less if you would turn that thing off and go to sleep. But I’m too tired to fight you right now. Can you point that somewhere else? I can’t even see what you’re doing, and that scares me. You’ve kind of left me defenseless.”

            Teresa shouted and jumped up, knocking her desk chair to the ground. She started hopping up and down clapping her hands eagerly.

            “You are a genius! That’s it! Oh! I could just kiss you!” Teresa exclaimed.

            “Please don’t,” Alex muttered under her breath.

“Your love made me senseless; your touch left me defenseless!”

            “Good night, Teresa.”

            Teresa flipped the lamp off and jumped into her own bed.

            “Good night, Alex.”

            Chad Hansen was also up at 1:30 that morning. Unlike the girls, his eyes were glued to a small monitor, and his hands to a game controller.  There was no way he was going to bed before he solved this puzzle, which was proving to be difficult. He was losing his touch. How many times had he won Tomb Raider in the past? And now he couldn’t even pass this one little puzzle.  As he lost yet again, Chad cried out in frustration and hit his controller against the ground. It was after this outburst that Chad remembered he shared a room.

Chad chanced a glance over to check that his roommate, Tyler, was still snoring away, and then went straight back to his game. He had done this before, and he could do it again. He just needed to keep a clear mind and think back to the days at his childhood home and the long hours spent with the heroine of Tomb Raider.

            “Come on, Lara,” he said to the 3D character on the screen, “We can do it this time.”

            Alex returned from her class to find Teresa still sleeping snugly in her bed. It wasn’t fair that Teresa was the one that kept Alex up all night and now she got to sleep in. She dropped her bag loudly to the floor, hoping to wake the sleeping beauty. Teresa turned over in her bed.

            “Wakey, wakey!” Alex hollered, very close to Teresa’s head. Teresa moaned and put a pillow over her ear.

            “It’s nine o’clock: Time to wake up and start a new day!”

            Teresa rolled to face Alex, and sat up slightly, “Do you want me to hit you? Go away.”

            “Band practice?” Alex said, slyly.

            With just these two words, Teresa sprang from her covers enthusiastically and started throwing off her pajamas. She was dressed in less than a minute.

            “Let’s do this thing!” Teresa said. “Now that we’ve got words, we need music. The sooner, the better. As soon as we make a name for ourselves, guys will flock to us.”

October

It was an unnaturally beautiful mid-October day for Utah, but Sam hadn’t noticed. He was in Price attending college for the first time and he was finding it hard to adjust to this new life. The past two years had been so structured, compared to that his life now was chaotic. He went to bed at a different time every night, depending on when his roommate David was tired. On Mondays and Wednesdays he didn’t have class until 11:00 and could sleep in, but on Tuesdays and Thursdays he had signed up for a 7:00 class. Today was Tuesday, and Sam was tired.

                Sam stifled a yawn as he walked across the street towards the Student Center. He was watching his feet, perhaps to make sure they kept moving, and had his hands in his hoodie pocket. There was a warm breeze that was stirring around the leaves he kicked up as he shuffled along. Sam didn’t think much about them, he didn’t watch as they swirled around him in the air, as if suspended by magic. He had things on his mind.

                The slight wind was not only disturbing the leaves on the ground, but pulling other leaves from their branches and sending them out into the world. They danced in the air for a few moments then touched the ground gracefully, making a subtle noise. One leaf alone was too quiet to hear, but together the hundreds landing on the grass sounded like a calm rain. The sound would have soothed Sam’s soul, if he were listening. But Sam wasn’t listening. He was brooding.

                He’d been away from home for two years. Then he was promptly sent away again, three hours away and with no car. He didn’t want to come to this stupid little town, but the college had offered him a pretty good scholarship and his parents hadn’t wanted him to miss such a great opportunity.

An opportunity for what? Sam thought resentfully. This Podunk college was smaller than his high school! What was he going to learn here that he couldn’t have learned by staying at home a year and going to the university extension in his town? Now he was stranded; though not so far away, there was a long and winding canyon separating him from the rest of civilization.

He glared at the school’s unofficial mascot, Gibby the Rock, as he pulled the door open. Someone had painted it bright pink with a big happy face. What right does a stupid rock have to be happy? Sam resentfully ate his lunch with a group of people from his dorm. They never spoke to him, but it was better than eating alone.

David sat down across from Sam and immediately set to flirting with the girl on Sam’s right. Sam listened while he chewed. David was a natural when it came to talking to girls. Sam wasn’t awful at it, but girls never seemed interested in anything he had to say when there were other males around. Sam had thought about this and figured that there must be something wrong with him. Either he was unattractive or he just wasn’t that funny. Or both. Sam glanced at the girl then got up and left.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Jenna was sitting under a tree reading a book and listening to 70s and 80s music. She absolutely loved the autumn. There was nothing quite like sitting among the yellows, oranges, and browns on the ground. The tree she was sitting under had turned a vivid red over the weekend; it perfectly matched her brand new jacket. Not that she needed the jacket, today was perfect. The temperature was in the mid-70s and there was a gentle wind. Jenna sighed and closed her book. She couldn’t be still on a day like this.

Jenna walked around the campus. She looked at the trees and the leaves on the ground. The wind picked up and threw resting leaves into action. Leaves were twirling above Jenna’s head, she started spinning with them. She realized she must look ridiculous, but she didn’t really care.

Jenna spun until she was dizzy, then she collapsed in a pile of newly fallen leaves. She stared into the heavens. The sky was perfect blue. There were wispy clouds warning of a storm ahead, but for now everything was just right. She watched as the birds flew south in their elaborate formations. Leaves fell around her.

She stood suddenly, disturbing the leaves around her. She took off running and skipping towards the Student Center. It was time for lunch!

A guy with curly black hair was leaving as Jenna arrived. She couldn’t help but notice how cute he was. He had bushy eyebrows, and chocolate brown eyes. He smelled really good too.

“Beautiful day, isn’t it?” Jenna asked him as she approached. He seemed to ignore her. Jenna thought he hadn’t heard. As she looked behind after him, Jenna saw him mocking her. His lips mouthed her words, he moved his head with exaggerated movements. Then he kicked Gibby, angrily.

“Are all men stupid?” Jenna said under breath as she turned to go inside. She found herself face-to-chest with the Dean of Students.

“Excuse me?”

“Sorry, not you,” She apologized and then stole another glance at the guy. He really wasn’t all that attractive. “Jerk.”

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Sam limped to his door and started digging in his pockets for his keys. He stuck the key into the lock and opened the door to his cell. He looked about the dinky room and sighed. Only half of this dungeon was his. He kicked off his shoes, which was much more painful than it should have been.

“Idiot!” He scolded himself, “What kind of moron kicks a boulder?”

Sam slumped onto his unmade bed an immediately jumped back up. There was a spring sticking out of his mattress, it had torn a hole clear through the mattress cover and his fitted sheet. He groaned and started stripping the covers off his bed.

He was too tired for this, but the mattress had to be flipped before he could take a nap. Sam glanced at the alarm clock; there wouldn’t be time for a nap before his next class now. He had exactly 20 minutes before he had to leave again and it would take him 10 to remake his bed.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

                Jenna sat down for lunch in a miserable mood. She stared down at her tray glumly and tried to stab her well done pork chop, but the fork bounced back. Jenna forced her fork into the meat and started sawing at it with a butter knife.

                “Hi!” Someone said to her.

                She looked across the table and saw a blonde girl with a huge grin. Jenna smiled in spite of herself.

                “I’m Abby,” The girl said, then she pointed her fork at the Latino boy on Jenna’s right, “That’s David.”

                “I’m Jenna.” Jenna was so happy to have someone to talk to at lunch that she forgot all about the boy she’d met outside.

Anna

                Anna sat at her desk chewing on the end of her pen. She hated introductions and conclusions. No matter how flowery her wording throughout the body of her essays, the beginning and ending always sounded somewhat hashed together. She sighed as she took out her laptop. This was going to have to be good enough, there was barely enough time to type and print her paper before class. Why did she have to procrastinate? She’d have to lecture herself later; there just wasn’t time for guilt now.

                Her fingers caressed the keyboard like they had been born to type. Anna would have typed her paper in the first place, but her professor wanted a hand written draft as well as the final essay. Writing was tedious and inefficient. She hated how ugly mistakes looked on written drafts. Pencils smudged and erasers smeared. Pens didn’t smug, but they left ink blots, and mistakes were permanent. Mistakes were one thing Anna could not accept.

                She grabbed the still warm paper from the printer as she headed out the door. She put it in her bag and slipped on her jacket as she hustled across the campus. She glanced at the time on her cell phone. How did it get to be so late? Gracious!  Anna broke into a run, ignoring the looks she was getting from other students.

                Class was just beginning when she slid into the back row, panting. Her professor gave her a pointed look, but didn’t say anything. The lecture was long and Anna couldn’t help herself as she took out her phone to once again check the time. She tapped her foot impatiently for the class to end. It was all she could do to stay awake.

Murder in the Park (Draft)

Cast

Katie

Rob

Place: A park outside a train station.

(KATIE is sleeping on a park bench, it is approximately 4 o’clock in the morning. ROB approaches carrying a big flashlight and shakes KATIE awake)

ROB:          Excuse me for waking you, miss.  Can I ask you what you are doing in this park at this hour?

KATIE:      What hour? (KATIE rubs her eyes and stretches.) What time is it?  Who are you?

ROB:          (HE pulls out his cell phone.) It’s 4:17 in the morning.  I’m Officer Rob Garn. 

KATIE:      My name’s Katie.  Same name as my Gran on my mom’s side.  But I don’t take after her at all, luckily.  She’s so batty, a total nutcase.  She makes me wear this one skirt when I visit her.  She says it’s important for a young woman to wear skirts, especially if she is unmarried.  I’m like, “Gran, it’s the twenty-first century.”  You know? You can wear pretty much anything now’days.  Just look at Lady Gaga.  I bet my Gran would just die if she saw me wearing some of those outfits!

ROB:          Katie, what are you doing in the park so late at night?  The curfew is in effect to help our citizens, you know.  Are you homeless?

KATIE:      No.  I’m not homeless.  I got off the train after midnight; we had some delays, it was running slow so we got here late.  I think it was something about someone losing their tie on the track.  Seems silly they’d stop so long for something like that, but it took forever.  By the time I got to this town, the last train had already left, and the station is closed until seven.  I didn’t know what to do, I was so tired.  Then I saw this cute little park and it looked friendly, so I just lied down.  These benches aren’t really very comfortable.  Somebody should do something about that.  Anyway, I’m not actually from around here, so I didn’t know about the curfew.  Am I in trouble, officer?  Are you going to arrest me or something?  Do I need to call my dad, because he wouldn’t be happy about me waking him up.

ROB:          No, ma’am.  How old are you anyway?

KATIE:      I’m nineteen, that’s definitely old enough to be travelling alone.  If you must know, I’m on my way back home.  My Granny is getting senile and my mom thought she needed a babysitter for the summer.  She lives in this one small town, Coalcreek, it’s even smaller than this one!  So small they don’t even have a bus system, let alone taxis.  It was horrible!  I had to walk everywhere, and wheelin’ Gran around, too.  And if I needed to go shopping somewhere else, the rusted old train was the only way to get there.  I hate trains, but this will be the last one before I get back to my hometown, and then my daddy’s picking me up at this one station tomorrow in the city.  I texted him to tell him the train wasn’t coming, or at least I wasn’t on it, but I don’t know if he got it.  You got cell service out here?

ROB:          It’s hit-and-miss.

KATIE:      It sure is cold out.  It never gets this cold in September in the city, I should know, that’s where I’m from.  I didn’t bring any jackets, because I didn’t think it would be this cold, so my Gran knitted this one ugly sweater for me.  People always try to tell me that women can’t be color-blind, but I swear Gran is.  She mixed purple, green and orange to make it.  And it’s really quite hideous.  One of the sleeves is much wider than the other.  She’s probably normal-blind too.  Is that what it’s called?  Normal-blind?   Here, let me show you. (SHE bends down and starts rummaging in her backpack.)

ROB:          So, anyway, this park has a curfew, so I really can’t allow you to stay in the park.

KATIE:      Here it is. (SHE pulls out the sweater.)  Isn’t it the worst?  She made me wear it whenever we went out in public together.  It was so humiliating!  At least Dennis wasn’t around to see it.  Dennis is the guy I like, he mows our lawn in the summer.  Of course, I was at Gran’s so I didn’t get to see him at all!  So, what’s with the curfew anyway?  I’ve never heard of a park closing before, not even in Gran’s small town.  I’m a legal adult, you know, curfews shouldn’t apply to me.

ROB:          I hate to scare you, Katie, but this curfew is in effect because there has been a series of murders lately.  It’s been all over the news, the entire state knows about it. There was a fourth one tonight, at this very park, the body was found a couple of hours ago.

KATIE:      Murders! Why didn’t you say so?  That is pretty scary, but isn’t it exciting.  It’s like something out of a TV show.  My Gran doesn’t have a TV.  It was a bummer.  I have a whole season worth of shows to catch up on before school starts.  But, that’s why I didn’t see it on the news.  I don’t read newspapers, they make my fingers dirty.  How’d they die?

ROB:          We think that tonight’s victim died of strangulation.  You don’t seem too concerned about this.

KATIE:      Why should I be?  I’m with a police officer.  Strangulation?  That’s kind of like suffocation, right?  When you can’t get enough air?  I thought I was gonna drown once.  I was under the water such a long time!  That was actually the first time I met Dennis.  He saved my life, just like you save lives.  I assume you have a gun. (ROB nods.)  Well, see, I’ll be perfectly safe.  I’m sure you got some other stuff too, you know, to catch a murderer.

ROB:          Ya, I got some rope.

KATIE:      I had to make rope this one time.  I was at Girl Scout camp.  My mom made me go.  I never really liked Scouts.  But we had to make these ropes, and then we had to tie them between these trees and then we’d throw this one tarp over it and make a tent.  It was just awful.  Luckily, they never made us sleep under them.  And they taught us all these knots, but I don’t remember any of ‘em.  Other than that, the rope was pretty useless, not even strong enough to make a swing.  How do you use a rope against a murderer, anyway?

ROB:          I could use it to hog-tie the victim.

KATIE:      Victim?  Oh, you mean the murder suspect.  I guess that might work, like, if you didn’t have hand-cuffs, or if you want to tie their legs so they can’t run away.  Do you have to carry hand-cuffs?

ROB:          I do.

KATIE:      I thought so.  It wouldn’t make sense for a policeman to not carry hand-cuffs.  I bet there’s a lot of stuff you have to carry around.  Like on your belt and stuff.  I bet you’re like Batman with that one utility belt of his.  I bet all that stuff slows you down.

ROB:          Well, we don’t carry around as much stuff as Batman, and really you get used to it all being there, you feel weird without it.

KATIE:      Like when you’re wearing a hat, like, all day, and you take it off and it still feels like it’s on your head?

ROB:          Ya, something like that.

KATIE:      I don’t really like hats though.  They not only give you messy hair, but they damage it in the long run, you know.  A lot of things can damage you’re hair.  Stuff you don’t even think about.  Like camping, all that smoke! It’s another reason I didn’t like Girl Scouts.  I could never imagine being a smoker either. Do you smoke?  (ROB shakes his head.)  That smoky smell never gets out of your clothes either.  It just lasts and lasts forever.  Just like my visit to Gran. Thatlasted forever and ever.  I’m so glad it’s over and I’ll be home in a few hours.  Back to real civilization!  If only this station wasn’t closed I could be there already!

ROB:          Now, from what you’ve told me you’ve been in this park since a little after midnight.

KATIE:      Ya, that’s right, there was a tie—

ROB:          That places you in the park around the approximate time we believe the murder occurred.

KATIE:      I’m not a suspect, am I?  You said it was a serial kill—

ROB:          I didn’t say there was a necessarily serial killer on the loose; I said we had a series of murders.  The police don’t know yet if they were done by just one person or a gang or if they are even related at all.  That means that you are a suspect.  You’ll have to come with me.  I’m afraid there is no way you will be getting home at all this morning.

KATIE:      I—I can’t be a suspect.  I’m innocent.

ROB:          If you are innocent, then you won’t mind coming with me.  If you have nothing to hide you should be perfectly fine. Right?

KATIE:      I guess.

ROB:          Besides, then I can show you my rope.

(ROB starts walking away from Katie towards the part of the park that borders some dense woods.  KATIE follows him.)

KATIE:      Geez, it’s sure dark over here.  I didn’t realize we were standing under a streetlight over there.  It sure makes a big difference.   I’m glad you have that big flashlight.  All I have is my cell phone.  Where are we going anyway?  Is your car parked in the woods?

ROB:          We’re not going to my car.

KATIE:      But—I thought—

ROB:          I said I wanted to show you my rope. (ROB pulls a length of rope out from behind his back. HE holds it taut level with Katie’s neck.)

        Curtain