Unsystematic

Day Thirty: Post An Excerpt

30: Post a chapter or so for everyone to read and review (these are excerpts from my favorite chapters).

RECOLLECTION OF QUESTIONABLE EVENTS:

“I am loser…I am loser…I AM LOSER!” she kept repeating, in front of a very confused man. It looked like she was miming our situation to the cop, trying to make him understand or at least that’s what I hoped (for both our sakes).

The police officer stifled down his laughter, clearly not wanting to offend an obviously distressed teenager. Only I knew that she’d meant to say ‘I am lost’, but since English wasn’t her first language, her words got lost in translation. It happened a lot, especially in high stress situations.

I approached the officer, placing my palms out in front of me…trying to diffuse the situation. Getting detained would only prevent us from attending the wedding, and I would never hear the end of it. It was time for me to step in.

“I am sorry for…her. She’s very upset because we’re lost. Maybe you could give us directions?”

The man chuckled, and let me know where to catch the bus we needed. During this whole conversation, Monica remained quiet. She was clearly in the process of calming down, and getting back to normal (whatever that meant for her).

As the police officer left us, I heard him say “I bet you are…I bet you are.”

CON ARTIST LEGACY:

The town electricity services didn’t stretch out very far, which meant that the lampposts were spaced further and further apart, their yellow light flickering constantly. It wasn’t long before I was driving in complete darkness.

I had made this trip twice before, and each visit was even more terrifying than the last, because I knew what awaited me. Just when my body wanted to hyperventilate and turn the car around, I spotted the first clue that told me I had reached my destination.

A few beat-up, old cars were scattered in front of a fenced in camp ground. Taking a deep breath, I got out of the car and head towards the shadows in front of the gate. A high-pitched squeak coming from a very little man wearing a kilt disrupted the silence.

“Who are you?” He demanded.

“Hey Angus, I’m Olivia’s granddaughter…remember me?”

“Oh yea,” Angus smiled and shuffled forward, stretching out his hand for the secret handshake.

Initially, I had refused to learn anything from these people, but apparently there was a rule preventing them from letting anyone in otherwise. They were all about their rules, a lesson I unfortunately had to learn the hard way during my first visit.

I remembered marching straight through the gate, thinking it was ridiculous to fear a three-foot man with a skirt fetish. What I didn’t know was that my biggest problem was never Angus, but his lovely wife.  Harriet was two-hundred pounds of pure muscle and maybe hair (my second mistake was assuming she was a man).

I didn’t remember much about that night, it was all just a big blur in my memory, and I would prefer to keep it that way. It wasn’t one of my better moments.

VEERAN:

“What the hell is going on?”

Fear and arrogance had made her ignore protocol, and she felt herself blush in embarrassment at being caught unaware. Crouched down next to her was Callum, her best friend since childhood…and her superior in the army since his promotion to General earlier in the week.

Pau observed her friend carefully for clues that he suspected her involvement. His chocolate-colored fur was bristled, and his ears were up in high alert to the impending danger.

But although his posture was tense, Callum’s voice and demeanor radiated calmness. The only clue to the depth of his distress was in his honey-colored eyes, and only if you knew his ‘tells’.

“No clue, I was just out for a run…like always and--”

“You mean…you were out looking for trouble, like always.”  Callum chuckled at his own joke, and Pau felt a sense of relief. He didn’t suspect a thing.