Prompt: When I opened my mouth to sing

When I opened my mouth to sing she held up her pointer finger to hush me.
     "I always have the chorus."
     I held in a growl and sad down as Julia stood straighter, jutted out her chin and went on to belt out a tune that would make my deaf grandmother bolt out o her recliner, dropping the remote and shutting off Wheel of Fortune. I tried to imagine my grandmother's horse like voice to drown out Julia's sad attempt. After her part she sad softly in the mushroom chair and nodded graciously in my direction. With a heavy breath, I approached the center and allowed my vocal chords to bathe the room. I closed my eyes to concentrate, and to avoid Julia's critical gaze. When I finished I bowed slightly to the roaring audience and took a seat.
     "Olivia," came a voice from backstage. "It's time for bed, sweetie."
      I blinked. My stuffed animals fell silent. Julia, my doll, sat still, my mother's words bringing the room back into focus.
     "Okay, but one more song?" I asked. Mama smiled and shut the door, the lights dimming as I prepared for my encore.

cutting a sentence won't make you bleed

     As you know I've been working on a book the past 18 months. This has kept my creative juices flowing in a distinct direction and I have not written anything "new" in a while. I've done prompts here and there with the EPIC writer's group I and my friend/editor/co-conspirator, Patty, created a year and a half ago. But as far as new material, my brain has been lacking. My mind is focused almost entirely on the world in my book. 

December 31st, 2012 my resolution was to complete the first draft of a novel by December 31st, 2013. I met that deadline with mere hours to spare and a string of sanity left. My fiance bore witness to the tears that accompanied the last sentence of my book. The final tally was 349 pages and 114 thousand words. This was much longer than it should have been. Earlier in the year (2013) I did research to define the average word total a young adult novel should be. (Publishers judge a book by words not by pages). While I found a report that gave me an average of 100k words for the best selling YA novels of the past decade, I failed to take in to a count that these were already established authors. 

     Not a peon like me who has yet to sell a novel.

     Publishers will most likely not want to risk an expensive publishing on a newbie who can't guarantee sales.

     Like me.

     After taking a month break from my book this past January, I dug in and began cutting. I tried this only days after finishing but it was as painful as if attempting to sever my own limb. I was too emotionally attached. 

     Word of advice: give yourself plenty of time to cut the umbilical cord before sending your child into the world.

     The new goal is to get as close to 90k words as possible. After five months of rigorous editing I've managed to get down to 95k words. And I'm not finished.

     My fiance jokes every time I tell him my new word total, "are you writing a book or deleting one?" It's part of the process, I tell him. Every word I erase, every sentence I move or re-imagine makes my story more precise and clear.

     Currently I am working on my fifth run through of the manuscript. Each time I look for something different. One might think (and I certainly did feel this way in January) that if I found a mistake that I was a terrible writer. But I've since realized that it is quite the contrary. When I find something to revise, I am bettering my work. Each delete is an opportunity to improve the quality of my writing.

     As I keep reminding myself, Everything stinks until it's finished.

     So when my book ends up 20k+ words shorter than my original draft I will delight in the fact I am 20k words closer to a clearer delivery of my story.

     No one wants to read in 20 pages what they could get in 10.

     That is where I am right now. I am working on my last revision before I hand it over to my trusty editor, Patty. It's scary, sure, but like my book, I'm a work in progress as a writer and I want to constantly improve my craft.

     Hopefully in the end, it will all be worth it.

     So keep calm and write on!

Curiosity Part Twenty One

A moment later I was in my car driving away.  It was extremely difficult not to run the red light and then even more so not to floor it when the green appeared.  All this time I was working for some new evil and I had no clue.  Deep down it felt like a game I was playing and when it turned out to be real….

            What was I supposed to do now?  The jungles of Peru did sound awfully inviting but I knew I couldn’t go.  I didn’t make nearly enough money from this job to afford the plane ticket there and my mother might miss me.  I passed light after light and saw countless people on the streets and in their cars.  My home awaited me, but even its safety and warm bed was not enough to shake the uneasy feeling I had.  I knew.  I knew something that others didn’t and for some reason I walked away with it.  These people I passed were not fortunate enough to know that an evil was lurking among them waiting to rise.

            I could, as Kent hinted, live in ignorance claiming plausible deniability, but it wouldn’t be true.  When the next day came and I didn’t show up for work, they would know.  Would they search me out?  I felt very strongly that they would.  Was my security worth more that those of the hundreds of nameless people I passed every day?

            No.  I pulled into my driveway but continued to sit in my car.  Maybe I wasn’t strong, or special or even very bright, but I did have something others didn’t.  I had knowledge.  This was it.  I knew what I had to do.  I would stop these guys.  I didn’t know how I would do it or even if it was possible, but I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t try. 

            I laughed out loud as my mind ran wild with pictures of superheroes and then ended with me.  Heroes are born of necessity and they all start somewhere.  Maybe now I could get my yellow coat.

            The End

Curiosity Part Twenty

The sun was fading and with it so was my sense of security.  This man was psychotic.  He really believed that he was doing good work.  I decided I would get as much information as I could before I left.  I would then change my name and move to the deepest darkest jungles in Peru.  The natives there would accept me and make me their own and I would never need to think about this crazy man and his ideas for world domination again.  All I needed to do was learn Spanish….

            “So, how did you come to work for the company?”  I asked casually. 

            “Same as you, I found it in a want ad.  They were looking for an idealistic individual interested in public relations for an up and coming organization.  I jumped on it and got the job.  Once they told me their mission statement I was all for it.”

            I worked with all my might to sound as interested as possible.  “How do you find funding?”

            At this he shrugged.  “It’s hard to find grants in favor of our revolutionary ideas, so we get them by whatever means necessary.”  He must have realized how that sounded because his eyes widened.  “I mean, we eventually convince those with the means to donate to our cause.”

            He must have meant to say they steal it.  “So, why the letter?”

            “Oh!”  he smiled now.  “That wasn’t my idea.  Nate wasn’t very pleased with your, he called it, ‘unconventional happiness’ and he wished to deter you.  I just thought it was funny.”  

            I didn’t.  My brain was telling me it was time to wrap things up, but I still had a couple more questions before I bid this man goodbye forever.

            “So, now that I’m in the circle, what kind of role will I play?”  Costumes design for your super villains?  I thought bitterly.

            “I’ll have to get back to you.”  He looked pleased.  He thought he had recruited another but he was wrong.

            “Okay, one more question,” I asked simply, taking a deep breath.

            “Shoot,” he said happily.

            “What do you call yourselves?”

            His smile turned and became something else that sent chills down my spine.

            “Now that would ruin the surprise, wouldn’t it?”

Curiosity Part Nineteen

 “I was afraid you would ask that.”  He looked up into the cloudless sky.  “But, I did arrange this little meeting so I guess it’s time I give you something, whether it’s to your liking or not.”

            My good common sense was telling me to high tail it to my car, but as always, my curiosity won.  I sat there, quietly, tempting fate.

            “We equip the select and reinforce their endeavors to establish a new order by which we can benefit.”  His words sounded rehearsed and he looked very pleased after saying them.  I, on the other hand, was not.

            “In English, perhaps?”  I prodded, still not sure where this was going.

            His smile faded a tad but he went on to say, “Each of our clients has a unique vision but all with a common goal.  We support that goal whole heartily.  Unfortunately, not all of them know how to make their visions come alive.  That’s where we come in.”  As his enthusiasm grew so did my understanding.

            “And what’s the goal?”  I managed.

            “Complete and total freedom for those who are able enough to obtain it.”

            “And for those who aren’t?”

            “They will be dealt with.” 

Dealt with?  My insides were crawling.  I was reminded strongly of some evil character in a movie.  Kent was smiling now but he wasn’t looking at me.  His attention was now on the people walking by.

            “So, Kent,” I said as normally as possible.  “Why did you decide to tell me all of this?”

            His eyes shot to me.  “Like I said, I like you.  All the others were boring and plain.  You’re different.  When things finally kick into motion I want you to be right there with us, embarking on a new world, free of the morons who bogged us all down.”

            I cleared my throat.  “What about those who try to resist?”

            “If they know what’s good for them, they won’t.  And if they don’t know what’s good for them then they shouldn’t be around anyway.”

            I laughed nervously, “Sounds like some kind of super villain alliance or something.”

            He wasn’t laughing but instead looked more thoughtful. “I prefer visionary.  The term ‘villain’ is offensive in my opinion.”

Curiosity Part Eighteen

“Secrecy is our business but it’s not our only business.  Does that help?”

            “No,” I said quietly, shaking my head slightly.

            He looked around then scooted closer to me.  I froze.

            “Okay.”  He seemed to be searching desperately for the right words.  I wished I could help him find them because the tension was killing me.

            “You’re different,” were the words he chose and were no more helpful than silence.  “I just don’t want….”

            “What is it?”  I said suddenly and he blinked.

            “The same thing to happen to you,” he finished. 

            “And what is that?”

            His confidence appeared to be dwindling with every word spoken.

            “I don’t know.  That’s the thing.  I want you to stick around.”

            Confusion was welling up inside me and I feared I might explode on him if he wasn’t straight with me soon.  “You have got to be more clear,” I whispered.  “What is it you do there?”

            He nodded resolutely then said, “I, myself, am head of public relations.  We are a growing organization, if you will.”

            Was he serious?  “Why have a public relations manager for a building with no name?”

            This guy could not make up his mind and he was starting to get on my nerves, his beating around the bush.  He looked around and lowered his voice again.

            “I know you opened that box.”

            My eyes widened but I held my own.  “Oh?”

            “And I know you’ve been asking around about us.  I know a lot and there’s a very good reason why you don’t and if you knew any better you’d want it to stay that way.”

            I gulped.  “And why’s that?”

            “Plausible deniability,”

            I waited.

            “Sometimes what you don’t know can’t hurt you even if you’re staring it right in the face.  That’s a very good thing in your case.”

            A horrible thought crossed my mind and I hesitated to voice it.  “And. . . this business, it is good, right?”

            He seemed to ponder this question and took a little too much time on it, in my opinion.

Curiosity Part Seventeen

“Shannon, glad you could make it.”  His voice was cool and so devoid of any hint of malice that I literally laughed out loud from nervousness. 

            He smiled.  “I bet you have a lot of questions.”  He motioned to a little bench a few yards from us and we both sat down.  I made sure to keep a good couple of feet away from him on the bench despite his easy going disposition.

            His smile faded slightly but it remained present on his face and I couldn’t manage to speak.  Here it was, the moment I’d been waiting for and I couldn’t say anything.  He waited patiently and then I exploded.

            “What makes you different?  Why does everyone there hate me?  What’s the deal with the note, the camera, the mic, the secrecy, the game that you all play?  What’s the point?”  My voice was a little higher and less controlled than I would have liked it to be and when I finished his smiled had gone.

            “Yes,” he said.  “That is a lot.”

            I stared at him.  His smart grey suit and slick dark hair helped paint the picture that he had information and his kind face made me feel that whatever he said would be the truth.  I waited for the answers he had promised. 

            He sighed and stared hard at me, then leaned back on the bench.  This sudden change in behavior caused what little sense of calm I had to dart off like a runaway cat.

            “What’s wrong?”  I asked sharply.

            He turned in his seat and almost seemed to deflate.

            His next words might have been, “The world is ending and our building is a rocket ship heading to Mars to save the human race,” for all sense it made to me.

            Instead he uttered plainly, “Listen, I like you, but you’re probably not going to like what I’m about to tell you.”

            I was floored and he still hadn’t even told me anything-yet.

Curiosity Part Sixteen

I gathered my things and walked quickly out the door and locked it behind me.  I hurried to my car and also locked that door behind me the moment I settled inside the vehicle.  Reality was crushing me and I wasn’t sure what to do.  I’d asked myself enough questions and pondered my situation for far too long.  If the answers were waiting for me on the corner of Carlson and Fort it only made sense that I would go.  If I had any more time I would have called my brother and had him wait down the street, but I had just ten minutes to find my destination.  Kent seemed like a nice guy.  Perhaps his kindness seemed more so in contrast to his fellow coworkers but I still felt like I wouldn’t be in danger if I met him there.  Besides, it was a public street corner and if anything happened I could always whip out my paper spray or scream bloody murder.

            My GPS revealed that I need only drive two blocks over and in the space of three minutes I was there.  I parked a little further down from the corner but within eyesight.  The corner was absent of Kent but I waited there anyway.  A few minutes passed and five fifteen was upon me.  And just like my alarm waking me from a deep sleep I noticed all the people in suits that were walking by.  I became so self conscious of how out in the open I was that I felt a sudden urge to run to my car.  My eyes darted from person to person and my heart began to pound.  This is a bad idea, I thought.

            “Oh crap,” I whispered.  “What have I done?”

            In the time it takes for someone to realize their mistake and then act on it, it was in those few moments when my guard was down, that he came up from behind me.

Curiosity Part Fifteen

At first I just looked at him as he worked to collect his papers.  It was when he smiled at me that my mind seemed to work again.

            “Here, I’ll help you,” I said, kneeling on the floor beside him.  Some papers had flown behind my chair so I handed those to him as he stacked the others in his case.

            “Thanks,” he said when everything had been restored.  He then reached out his hand to shake mine.  I gaped at the outstretched hand for a moment.  Was I in the same office?  My eyes met his and he nodded.  Very slowly I put my hand in his and he shook it.  “Kent.”

            “Excuse me?”  I coughed.  He released my hand and we both stood up.

            He smiled again, punched the key code and disappeared through the door.

            It was a moment before I realized he had left a card in my hand.  Remembering the camera and microphone, I sat back down.  I placed my hand in my lap, under the desk and ever so discretely, looked down to read the little message.

            “5:15pm, corner of Carlson and Fort.  Come alone.”

            Just like the letter, it was typed.  Was the note from this man as well?  I took a deep breath and slid the card into my purse beneath the desk.  I opened up a magazine and pretended to read as the rest of the staff bustled through the doors.

            Kent, I thought, seemed like a nice enough guy.  Maybe he wouldn’t be the psycho killer type.  The hours sped by that day and only slowed down when Bert came with the mail a little later than usual at 3:45.  I tried to avoid eye contact because I knew just by looking at him I would give away my thoughts but when he asked me how I was doing, I gave in.

            “Just fine….”

            He squinted at me.  “What happened?”

            I remembered the eyes and ears.  “Just tired is all,” I lied and gave my best fake smile.

            He huffed in disbelief but left anyway.

            When five o’clock came everyone left promptly and disappeared out the front door.  Everyone, that is, but Kent.

The trick to winning and losing

The one thing in writing both equally ridiculous and entirely necessary is the villain's monologue. "How I did what you failed to stop me to do but by my taking the time to explain it to you I have in essence given you the extra time to succeed in stopping me". In real life this never happens but in the imaginary world of a book, the reader expects it, craves it. And this is how our heroes win. They are given the edge most often because of the villain's pride and desire to celebrate too soon. And there is your book.

A blip of a book...

Over the past year and a half I have been writing a book. The process has tested me in ways I had not thought possible. There were days I couldn't stop myself from hovering over the keyboard, tapping away as the words formed beneath my eyes. Other days I had to physically disable the internet so that I would be forced to stare at the blinking line that demanded my brain power.

     But that is what it is to be a writer. Some days are better than others. Through it all, however, I have never regretted the time spent, no matter how small, that I've given my book. Even if I come back the next day and want to erase the last two pages, it's still something to work with.

     So without further adieu, below is an excerpt from my novel entitled "The Defining Moment". Please keep in mind that this is a work in progress and may have grammatical or punctuation errors. Hopefully the full book will be done in the next year. On that note, I hope you enjoy!

************************

It was night. Elias could always tell because the birds would stop chirping and the crickets would start. Of course, that was only during the spring and summer. During the winter, it got cold and no matter how many blankets he had, he still shivered. She would come and see him in the mornings to make sure he got up and didn’t “sleep in,” though he never knew what that meant. Sleep into what? But then he never felt rested no matter how long he slept. His bed was an itchy mattress separating him from the cold floor. As he grew taller, the blanket he’d had forever no longer covered his entire body but his mother never bothered to replace it.

            A box in the corner was full to the top with toys but he hadn’t touched them in a long time. They stopped being fun years ago and the stuffed animals were dirty and smelled funny after all this time. But that didn’t stop her from bringing more of them. The stupid puzzles, the bright and annoying baby games were only a reminder of how little his mother cared. Apart from that, there wasn’t much there. Just his bed, a shelf full of books, a small desk and an old looking chair that hurt when he sat too long on it. He treasured every piece of paper he could find to write on and even tore blank pages from the books he had outgrown.

            He could walk across the entire room in ten steps. The only way out was the door he’d never been through. There was a small closet with a toilet and bathtub. She wanted him to take a bath every day, to look nice. But for who? He didn’t see the point. He didn’t get dirty, just a little dusty sometimes. It was a way to pass the time though, the time that went on forever…

            Bare walls with no windows, but he knew there was something outside the small room. If anything, a whole other world was waiting for him beyond the walls that she kept him locked within. He knew simply from the books that she had taught him to read. It was probably a small thing to her but Elias absorbed every word from those pages. It was more than a way to pass time; it was a growing realization of things he never knew, never had. Were they really all just stories that someone made up? Did kids really go to school and play outside? Did they have friends and brothers and sisters? And what about a dad? Did everyone have one? In the back of his mind he had small memories of a man who could have been a father but he wondered sometimes if he’d dreamed it up. His dreams were so much better than real life.

            But Elias learned a long time ago not to ask his mother about the things from his books. She used to laugh it off and tell him not to worry about it. As he got older, his questions were harder to ignore and her patience grew thinner. The last time Elias asked something she didn’t feed him that day. He was so hungry, his stomach growled in protest and he cried and banged on the door for her to remember him. He had upset her and this was how she taught him.

            He had asked why he didn’t have a father.

            It hadn’t always been like that though. He could remember a time where she would never leave him. She played games with him, read to him, laughed with him. She would spend hours every day teaching him to read and write. He felt whole.

            But as he grew up her time with him became less and less. He didn’t understand what was happening. Some days she would bring him all kinds of new toys and books and sweets and hold him tight. In those moments he never wanted her to leave. She would cradle him until he fell asleep and when he awoke in the night and found her gone it was like someone had stolen his only happiness. The loneliness became overwhelming and after a while he began to cringe when she would enter his room because he knew that no matter how wonderful she might make him feel, it wouldn’t last. The aching in his heart would be stronger than ever the moment she left.

            He pulled the faded, worn covers up over his head and tried to fight back the tears. He had seen pictures of the sun, the moon, but wished to see them with his own eyes. She would never tell him why he had to stay there, locked away from the world. Instead she would answer, “I’m your mother, Elias. What more could you need?”

            The real question was, why was this all he had?

Curiosity Part Fourteen

            The next morning I was determined once more.  The drive to work was littered with random pep talks I would say out loud to myself.

            “This is real life,” I said matter-of-factly.  “No crazy ninja is going to fall out of the ceiling and attack me.”

            I slowed down for a traffic light.  “Bert must be pulling my leg.  Why would they even need an outside receptionist if their work was so dangerous?  What’s the point?”

            I kept verbally encouraging myself all the way up to when I pulled into the parking lot.  I clapped my hands together.  “Here we go!”  Just before I opened my car door, however despite my enthusiasm, I leaned over and grabbed the pepper spray out of the glove compartment.  Slipping it into my purse, I set out for the building.  Better safe than sorry.

            I kept my gait smooth and even managed a small smile as I unlocked the door and stepped inside.  I walked around to my desk and sat down, at first not realizing the surprise waiting for me.  I shoved my purse under the table, eyeing the cable that remained to hear my every word.  And there, sitting on the desk before me was a single piece of caramel candy.  My heart stopped.

            It’s just candy, I thought.  It’s not an oompa loompa.

            But when the front door swung open I jumped as if I’d been burned.  The lady before me stopped in mid-step, eyes narrowed on me.

            “S-sorry,” I stammered, wiping the candy aside.  “Violent hiccups.”

            She continued walking, without a sound, toward the back door.   I rested my elbows on the desk and laid my head in my hands.  Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea for me to have come back.

            The next time the door swung open I didn’t even raise my head.  Why bother?

             Another noise made me flinch again except this time it happened right beside me.  I looked up to my left and saw the sharp dressed man from before.  He had dropped his briefcase and the contents had spilled out.  

Curiosity Part Thirteen

I spent a lot of time thinking on my drive home and even more time after I collapsed on the couch in my dark living room.  At this point I had to decide whether the danger lied in staying or leaving.  If I left, would that give “them” the idea that I knew something?  All I did know at this point was that something was wrong, but in all honesty I knew absolutely nothing.  I hadn’t discovered anything.  A shiver went up my spine as I thought back to me wanting to open up their mail.  I was very thankful I only opened the one and that it had nothing revealing inside.  It was almost enough for me to start liking caramel.

            My mind kept running countless scenarios involving my staying there.  One starred boomerang flailing ninjas busting out of the back door of the office and chasing me down the street.  Another had Mr. Slugworth, the scheming chocolate maker who played the rival to the great Willy Wonka.  Mr. Slugworth accused me of stealing his secret candy recipe and selling it on Ebay.  The evil oompa loompas were dragging me away when I woke up, still sprawled out on the couch.

            In the end I decided to flip a coin.  Heads I stay, tails I go.  The coin twirled in the air and landed in my palm.  I flipped it over onto the back of my other hand.  For a moment my future hung in the balance and then I lifted my hand; Heads.  Looking at the coin I felt a sense of resolution flow through me.  It was just a job and I hadn’t done anything wrong.  I was going to go back to work and face whatever was challenging me.  No faceless evil was going to scare Shannon Rollings.  I was going to walk right back into that office and if they wanted me out they were going to have to force me out.  What could they do to me, really?

Curiosity Part Twelve

The last hour of the day crept by.  I don’t know if it was because I was waiting for the roof to fall in or for someone in a suit to escort me from the building.  My mind kept dancing between two extremes.  The first was scared stiff for obvious reasons.  The second, and more insane thought, was actually excited.  It felt like I was in a real spy movie and having grown up with an older brother, could really appreciate the intensity of the situation.  Only when my mind began to run away with the crazy story did I remember that I was the main character and I was not guaranteed a happy ending. While this may be common sense for the rest of the world I seemed to be having problems remembering that fact.  And the fear was back.

            When five came there was a steady stream of men and women leaving through the front door.  I sat there quietly, head bowed, not daring to look at any of then.  Which of these lovely people sent me the letter?  Their shoes made hardly a sound on the carpeted floor and after I heard the door finally swing shut did I lift my head.  It was three minutes after five.  I bent down to gather my things from beneath the desk and as I grabbed for my purse I felt a cord.  I ducked my head below the desk and saw the cord was attached to the top of the inside of the desk.  I followed it with my fingers down to the floor where it disappeared into a tiny hole in the carpet.  The cord, I soon learned, was a microphone cable.

            I held my breath and sat up, taking my purse with me.  I walked as casually to the door as possible.

            The letter, I thought, should have mentioned the desk having ears.

Curiosity Part Eleven

It wasn’t very long.  I even flipped the paper over to see if there was more but the typed words were confined to the middle of the front page.  This is what it said:

“The walls have eyes.  Keep your nose out of the fire and it won’t get burned.  This is your only warning.  Asking questions is not wise.”

At this point I had to wonder whether the paycheck was worth it.  The letter was very threatening and reminded me strongly of a mafia movie.  What was the big deal?  Part of me was less afraid and more upset that the letter wasn’t more revealing.  The only thing it confirmed was that I was, indeed, dealing with something sinister here.  As scary as that thought could be, I was now more intrigued than ever.  My eyes fell on the first few words on the paper: “The walls have eyes.”  It sounded like an awful horror movie, but even terrible horror movies are detrimental to the people inside the story as cheesy as they may be to audience.

            I began to search every square inch of the walls.  I stayed in my seat so as not to cause suspicion for whoever was watching.  To be even more cautious, I would only look for a few minutes before I would break to look at the magazine on the desk.  Surely, if I was being watched, it wasn’t nonstop.

            After half an hour of Dick Tracy worthy sleuthing, I managed to find a discrepancy in the room.  Just above the front door I discovered a crack in the paint.  It was very subtle but after staring at it for several seconds it became painfully obvious.  For such a pristine lobby any kind of oddity would have been more than out of place.  The only trick now was figuring out what to do about it.  It was when a tiny flash of light came from the crack in the wall that the situation took on a new meaning to me. 

This was serious.    

Curiosity Part Ten

At first I thought it was the mail man coming late, but it wasn’t.

            “Ms. Rollings?”

            My head shot up to find a lady who looked not much older than me, with an envelope in her hand.  She looked at me inquisitively and I nodded.

            “That’s me,” I squeaked.  It had been awhile since I’d spoken.

            She approached the desk and handed me the envelope.  I took it with an almost shaking hand.  I had never received mail here and couldn’t honestly remember telling anyone the address.  The lady paused.   It seemed she was waiting for me to open it.  It had, go figure, no return address and, interestingly enough, just my name in typed letters.

            “Which courier do you work for?”  I asked, observing her plain collared shirt.

            The lady smiled.  “A small one,” she answered curtly and turned to leave.

            At that point I was mad.  I was tired of unanswered questions and being ignored.

            “Excuse me!”  I said loudly, a shortness in my voice that could no longer be masked.  “Can you answer my question like an adult, please?”

            The lady turned to face me, her short blond hair like stone in the wind.  For a split second I wondered how much hair spray she used but was cut short by her answer, her real answer.

            Her tone crawled up my skin and made me wish I had kept silent.  “Why don’t you open that envelope and read your letter, Ms. Rollings.  I daresay you’ll find it more helpful than me.”

            It was only after the door swung shut behind her that I was able to breathe again.  My eyes floated down to my hands still clutching the mysterious paper.  I couldn’t bring myself to open it.  Ignorance, I was learning, was not only bliss but turning out to be a safer way of life.  What was crazier was that I still didn’t know anything.  Could someone be in danger for their mere endeavors even through lack of accomplishment?  I hadn’t done anything…really.  Maybe the letter wasn’t a threat.  Maybe that lady was just naturally rude.  I took a deep breath and slit open the envelope.

Curiosity Part Nine

It’s hard to evaluate something when you see very little of it.  I could not make any kind of assumption based on the employees when I rarely saw them.  My little experiment did help me realize that not all of them were stuck up and that some would be nice to me, if they could.  The question now that plagued me was why was verbal communication literally frowned upon?  What line of work disapproves of being friendly with the receptionist?  That would have been really nice to know when accepting the job.  Oh, yeah, by the way, no one will ever speak to you.  So if you’re a people person, expect disappointment. 

            But it was more than that.  I put my head on the desk and thought back to Bert’s warnings.  Those were sincere.  He said to be careful and not be too curious.  Being the king of vague, he would never say anything more. 

It was three in the afternoon and I hadn’t seen a delivery man all day.  It very seldom happened that there would be no packages or mail.  It might have occurred once or twice before in the short time I had been working there.  I decided it was time to try my detective skills.

            My eyes grazed the room that confined me.  What more was there to investigate?  There was no mail to poke through, no packages to peek in and no delivery men to interrogate.  Had I reached my dead end?  Something fishy was going on in this building and I needed to know what it was!  For my own sanity, I was desperate for some drop of information that might possibly eventually lead me towards a shred of a clue as to what was going on.

            My head found the table top again and I sighed aloud.  It was then that the door opened.

Curiosity Part Eight

Monday came and I decided against the yellow coat.  One, it would look ridiculous with the weather being so warm outside.  And two, I couldn’t find one anywhere.

            I spent the entire ride to work racking my brain for something clever to say that would solicit a decent response.  I remained in my seat but was determined to get more than just a hello out of the man from Friday.  When the time came I almost forgot to speak.  I hadn’t noticed before how young the man was or how well dressed for that matter.

            The door swung open and he stepped in flashing me a brilliant smile.  The words caught in my throat and he was already halfway to the secret door before they jumped out of my mouth.

            “Nice weather today, wouldn’t you say?”  That was not what I had planned.

            The man actually stopped, his smile gone.  His hand was raised to the key pad for the door when he looked at me.  My heartbeat faltered and I tried desperately to look casual. 

            “Actually,” he began, but before another word could come out, the front door opened.  An older man than he came in carrying a big black briefcase.  The younger man stiffened and hurried with the key pad to get through the door.  The older man gave a disgruntled snort and glared at the man as he disappeared.  I tried to smile at the older man but my face seemed frozen.  He looked past me as if I weren’t there right up until he pulled the door open to go through.  At that moment his eyes shot at me like arrows and remembering I’d forgot to breathe I suddenly gasped.  I wanted to die.  The man was gone and with him he took my confidence.  What was that about?  Was he upset at the younger man for speaking?  Was there a rule against stopping in the lobby on your way in?  Was it me?  Did he know something or suspect I was suspicious?  

Curiosity Part Seven

It took an enormous amount of self control not to tear into every package that decorated the counter that afternoon.  Maybe there was a way I could learn more without committing a felony.  Or at least, I thought, I can save that for a last resort.  My cunning nature had to be worth something in this situation.  Most of my friends were unsympathetic, especially the ones without jobs.  One friend actually encouraged me to get fired so she could have my job.  I decided, a little stung, not to share my thoughts with her anymore.

            My brother, who was married with a baby on the way, had some decent advice.

            “Go Dick Tracy.”

            “What?”  I said, nearly dropping the phone.

            He was already deep in explanation when I steadied the phone against my ear. 

            “…was only one of the greatest detectives ever!”

            I had no idea who he was talking about.  I told him that.

            He sighed very loudly.  “Have I taught you nothing?”

            “Apparently not enough,” I said.

            He spent the next ten minutes filling me in on how amazing Dick Tracy was and giving me the ins and outs of how to be a great detective.

            “Tact is everything.  Don’t let them know you’re interested or they will be on the defensive.”

            I took mental notes and grew more intrigued with every detail he gave.  I could be sneaky.  I could be sly.  I could be analytical.

            “Are you getting this, Shannon?”

            “Sure thing,” I said quietly, imagining myself in a yellow coat like Dick Tracy’s.

            “Don’t forget to be inconspicuous!” my brother said before we hung up.

            The question now was if I could be inconspicuous while wearing a big yellow coat or if that would blow my cover.

Curiosity Part Six

A strange paralyzing fear gripped me.  Was it wrong for me to open the door?  I was too nervous at first to realize I’d gotten exactly what I wanted: interaction.

            “G-good morning!”  I sputtered as the man walked through the door I was holding. 

He turned to look at me before he disappeared through the inside door.  “Good morning to you, too.”  He smiled and was gone.

I stepped inside, mouth slightly open.  The door swung shut and bumped my back.  I couldn’t get over what happened.  I decided to sit back down at my desk and await the rest of the silent zombies.  Though I hadn’t accomplished much, I had learned that it was possible for them to respond to me.  This vital piece of information would be very helpful in my future endeavors to seek out the truth.  The rest of the morning was spent politely wishing everyone a good morning and delivering the biggest smile I could muster.  No one else said a word to me.

Even Bert, the mailman, noticed a change in my attitude.

“What have you done?”

I cocked my head, a blank look on my face.  “Whatever do you mean?”

His eyebrows met in the middle and he stared hard at me.

I took the mail he had for me, all with addresses only and no names.

Again he asked me and I said, “Let’s just say that I’ve found a new interest in my job.”

This was not what he wanted to hear.  “Shannon, I told you to be careful.”  He sounded like a father warning his child.

“I am!”  My voice got pitchy so I whispered it again, “I am, don’t worry.  Honestly, what can I do?  There’s nothing here.”  I gave him my most convincing face.  He sighed, but before he turned to leave he left me with these words.

            “Curiosity didn’t just kill the cat.”

            I shrugged him off but something about his tone made me think he knew more than what he was letting on.

Curiosity Part Five

It was Friday, my last chance of the week.  If I didn’t get something I would have to wait two whole days for another try.  I wasn’t sure I could do it.  I was determined to make the day count.

            A quarter after ten I was sitting behind the desk.  I had a plan.  The first person strolled through the front door and I perked up.

            “Good morning!”  I smiled broadly at the short middle aged man.  He carried a sleek brown briefcase and wore a dark grey suit.  He never blinked and before I could say “Have a nice day!” he had already gone through the mysterious door behind me.

            Take two.

            A moment later, a lady in a lavender suede skirt suit opened the door.  I smiled again and said,

“How are you today?”  Her green eyes flashed to me but the time it took her to decide whether she should respond was too long.  Her legs had carried her through the door as well.

            This was all too familiar for me to be discouraged.  I needed to shake up my tactics.

            This time I saw an older gentlemen walking up to the door.  I rushed around the desk and swung the door open for him.  His eyes shot wide and he stopped dead for a moment.  You would almost think human contact was a new thing for these people.  It only took a second for his feet to work again and he was gone, the back door swinging silently behind him.  I was still standing with the door open when I heard a deep voice behind me. 

            “Is that in your job description?”