WRiTE CLUB - Skirmish #2

I’m back again to offer a chance in the ring for the writers who submitted an anonymous sample of their work to WRiTE CLUB 2012, but weren’t lucky enough to be chosen to compete.  There are no prizes to be won, or further advancement beyond this one bout, but as all of the other contestants have discovered before them -- there is still plenty to be gained…and learned. I will post one of these skirmishes each week until I run out of contestants.

In the near corner…weighing in at 474 words…I give you…I.L. Scribble.

The hallway was finally empty. And dark. The usual fluorescent lights that gave everyone a neon glow, in Oliver’s opinion at least, were turned off. Only the emergency exits glowed red making the hallway look creepy. Oliver heard Trip let out a long yawn and he looked over his shoulder.

He smiled and whispered, “You ready to do this?”

Trip nodded. “Do you have the key?”

Oliver shook his head. “Don’t need one.” He pulled a bobby pin out of his pocket.

“Where did you get that?”

“Your sister.”

Trip shook his head now. “It’s bad enough I’m an accomplice, now you’ve roped my sister into it.”

“Chill out, Trip. No one will know it was her. I could find a bobby pin anywhere.”

“Let’s just get moving. If Professor Douglas comes to check on us, we’re in big trouble.”

“Hold on. I haven’t heard Gunney’s signal yet.”

And as if on cue, a soft whistle echoed down the hall. Gunney’s signal that the Headmaster had left the building was all Oliver was waiting for. He and Trip stood up from their crouched position in one of the classroom doorways and walked down the hall.

Oliver’s heart sped up as if it were a train, going full speed ahead with no chance of slowing down. He knew the probability of getting caught was slim, but there was always a chance. And he hoped luck was on his side.

He and Trip met Gunney and Rusty at the door. Just as he thought, it was locked. Oliver kneeled down and pulled the bobby pin apart.

“Can you shine the light over here?”

Rusty pulled out a flashlight from his bookbag and shined it on the lock. After inserting the bobby pin into the key hole, Oliver pressed down until he could feel the latch catch and the lock click. “That was easy,” he said. He stood up and opened the door to Professor Burns office.

Oliver eased the door open and all four boys took a step inside. The smell of paper and ink hit Oliver’s nose hard and he sneezed. He yanked a tissue out of the box on the corner of the desk and wiped his nose. Keeping his wrists limp, he shot the used tissue into the trashcan. “Swish. Three points,” he said.

Oliver sat down behind Professor Burn’s desk and flung his legs up on top, crossing his ankles. He leaned forward and grabbed a handful of candy out of the dish. “I never pictured Professor Burns as a fireball candy type of guy,” he said as he popped one into his mouth.

“Ollie, come on. We only have a half hour before we need to get back to the common room,” Trip said.

“Nervous?” Oliver asked.

“No. I just don’t want to be late.”

“Right. First, I need the cardboard.”

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And in the far corner, boasting 449 words, let me introduce to you…The Hairless Wookie in Baja. 

Allister stepped out of his unmarked vehicle, shoved the hem of his shirt down the front of his trousers and ran his fingers through his dark wavy hair. His shift was over an hour ago, but when the call came through on the radio, he couldn't resist checking things out. Plus, he knew Grace would be working the scene.

Flashing his badge, he made his way past the police tape, over the sand dunes and towards the body. A quick glance told him the victim was in her early twenties.He stopped short when the pungent odor of decay made his jaw tighten. The victim laid on her back, her mouth caught in a frozen scream. Her scuffed designer shoes hung to her feet by ankle straps and her matching sequin dress torn, exposing the top half of her body. Flies collected around the victim's eyes, mouth, and scurried up her nostrils. Allister’s throat tightened, he never could get used to that part of the job.

"Whatcha got?" he asked the forensic expert, dressed in her usual police issue lab coat.

Grace,crouching next to the body, looked up. "Detective Allister Black,” she said, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her delicate nose. “It’s 6am. Shouldn't you be in bed Slim?"

"Nice to see you too, Red. I was in the area, thought I'd check things out."

"Well don't come any closer or you’ll contaminate my crime scene."

"Your crime scene?"

"Yes, mine until I've collected all necessary information." She turned to a second white coat. "Marshall, start taking pictures and use the grid technique I showed you. And don’t forget to switch off the flash this time. I don't want you scaring my maggots."

Allister's mouth twisted in disgust. Grace was a no-nonsense professional and a red-headed knockout. But he never understood her fascination with the bugs. Clearing his throat he asked, "Who's the instar?"

Grace cracked a smile, a rare event. "A bug joke. The job must be wearing on ya,Slim," she said, tucking a ginger curl behind her right ear.

No, it’s your amazing body,incredible tits and full kissable lips. "Must be," he replied, sliding his hands in his pockets. "Can you estimate the PMI?"

Grace took a thermometer from her forensics carrying case and inserted the tip into a rippling maggot mass at the crux of the victim’s throat. Allister’s stomach lurched as Grace recorded the data before reengaging in the conversation. "I need to do a full body exam at the lab,but seeing we’ve got first and second instar larvae and an average internal temp of..." her voice trailed off, her face suddenly seared with horror.“Medic! We’ve got a live one!”
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Now it’s time for you to tell us the one that resonates with you the most in the comments, along with a brief critique if you have time.

Thank you for taking the time to help these writers out.  See you again next week. :)