AKA Jill - 2
She awoke the next morning with a little more bounce in her step. The adventures of the night before had been as exhilarating as any chance encounter with the opposite sex could be, although it didn't end as well for Joe as he'd hoped, she guessed. She hopped out of bed, fixed her pajama bottoms, and threw open the curtains. Warm sunlight rushed in, illuminating the small studio apartment that she called home. She walked over to the coffee pot and started it, shooing her cat off the counter in the process.
"You know you're not supposed to be up here, Buckles," she said to the cat. He scampered away, looking for his litter box and food. Good idea, She thought, as she wandered toward the bathroom and thought about what to make herself for breakfast.
-------------
With coffee and food in her system, she plopped down on her musty old couch. Dust rose from it and danced in the sunlight. She knew it was gross, but she was always intrigued by the particles floating around in the air. She grabbed her laptop, turned it on, and browsed to the local news.
"Good, no mention of last night's fun. Not yet," she said to Buckles as he hopped onto the couch and curled up beside her. She'd taken care to hide the body as best she could, although dragging a full grown man through an alley without attracting attention wasn't easy. With much effort, though, and a little luck, she had brought Joe to a dumpster she'd spied earlier that night and dropped him in. He was probably well on his way to the waste station by now, where they would possibly discover him in another day or two. They might not discover him at all. That was just fine with her.
Adrenaline began rushing through her system again at the thought of it, and she relished each wave of it that washed over her. She was riding pretty high, continuing on to check her email, and saw an email from Rene Johnson, her editor. The adrenaline subsided pretty quickly.
Shit! I forgot about the deadline today! she thought to herself as she read through the note from Rene. She panicked for a moment. Her first chapter wasn't even half done. She had promised Rene another bestseller, and she planned on delivering this time. To be fair, she planned on delivering last time, too, but her last book was released to lackluster sales and reviews. If she hadn't been one of their bestselling authors already, she's sure they would have cut her for that. Still, she didn't want to push her luck any more.
She quickly read through her first few pages and her notes. "This will never do," she said, crinkling her nose at the words as if they were physically assaulting her senses. She began hammering away at her keyboard for a while, but felt extremely uninspired. Where inspiration used to be there now existed a void; a vacuum sucking up her energy and motivation to finish, even as the words and paragraphs bled out onto the page.
Bled out. Joe. His face as she stabbed him. It's all she could think about, and it quickly pushed any thoughts about her new book out of her mind and into the trash. She tried stepping away for a bit and taking a walk, but it was no good. She tried more coffee. A light snack. Nothing worked.
She finally had a brilliant idea. One that would kill two birds with one stone. Killed, she thought, and chuckled to herself.
She opened a new document and began to write. She did not stop. Not for lunch, not for dinner. Not even to grab the mail. It wasn't until well into the night that she slowed down and finally stopped, her fuel tank finally running dry. If her keyboard could talk, it would probably cry out in relief. She scanned over everything she had written and, satisfied with her progress, emailed it to Rene. She stood up, stretched, and walked around the room a bit. She found Buckles and gave him a quick scratch. "Thanks for being such a good guy today," she said. He purred in reply, burying his head in her hand.
It didn't take long for her phone to beep at her, indicating she had a new email. She opened it up. The email was short and to the point, a good sign. It read:
You're lucky I'm a night owl. I loved it! A female serial killer...where do you come up with this stuff? Looking forward to more, Angela.
-RJ
"You know you're not supposed to be up here, Buckles," she said to the cat. He scampered away, looking for his litter box and food. Good idea, She thought, as she wandered toward the bathroom and thought about what to make herself for breakfast.
-------------
With coffee and food in her system, she plopped down on her musty old couch. Dust rose from it and danced in the sunlight. She knew it was gross, but she was always intrigued by the particles floating around in the air. She grabbed her laptop, turned it on, and browsed to the local news.
"Good, no mention of last night's fun. Not yet," she said to Buckles as he hopped onto the couch and curled up beside her. She'd taken care to hide the body as best she could, although dragging a full grown man through an alley without attracting attention wasn't easy. With much effort, though, and a little luck, she had brought Joe to a dumpster she'd spied earlier that night and dropped him in. He was probably well on his way to the waste station by now, where they would possibly discover him in another day or two. They might not discover him at all. That was just fine with her.
Adrenaline began rushing through her system again at the thought of it, and she relished each wave of it that washed over her. She was riding pretty high, continuing on to check her email, and saw an email from Rene Johnson, her editor. The adrenaline subsided pretty quickly.
Shit! I forgot about the deadline today! she thought to herself as she read through the note from Rene. She panicked for a moment. Her first chapter wasn't even half done. She had promised Rene another bestseller, and she planned on delivering this time. To be fair, she planned on delivering last time, too, but her last book was released to lackluster sales and reviews. If she hadn't been one of their bestselling authors already, she's sure they would have cut her for that. Still, she didn't want to push her luck any more.
She quickly read through her first few pages and her notes. "This will never do," she said, crinkling her nose at the words as if they were physically assaulting her senses. She began hammering away at her keyboard for a while, but felt extremely uninspired. Where inspiration used to be there now existed a void; a vacuum sucking up her energy and motivation to finish, even as the words and paragraphs bled out onto the page.
Bled out. Joe. His face as she stabbed him. It's all she could think about, and it quickly pushed any thoughts about her new book out of her mind and into the trash. She tried stepping away for a bit and taking a walk, but it was no good. She tried more coffee. A light snack. Nothing worked.
She finally had a brilliant idea. One that would kill two birds with one stone. Killed, she thought, and chuckled to herself.
She opened a new document and began to write. She did not stop. Not for lunch, not for dinner. Not even to grab the mail. It wasn't until well into the night that she slowed down and finally stopped, her fuel tank finally running dry. If her keyboard could talk, it would probably cry out in relief. She scanned over everything she had written and, satisfied with her progress, emailed it to Rene. She stood up, stretched, and walked around the room a bit. She found Buckles and gave him a quick scratch. "Thanks for being such a good guy today," she said. He purred in reply, burying his head in her hand.
It didn't take long for her phone to beep at her, indicating she had a new email. She opened it up. The email was short and to the point, a good sign. It read:
You're lucky I'm a night owl. I loved it! A female serial killer...where do you come up with this stuff? Looking forward to more, Angela.
-RJ
Comments
Post a Comment