Friday, April 8, 2011

Dead Zone
By Tyler Arndt
                She was beautiful. Her hair was a wonderful, silky blonde. The half smile on her lips left her looking pleased. Her eyes were barely open, but I could still clearly make out her fiery blue Irises. They looked cold in a way. I guess that made sense, the life behind them was already long gone, her passing denoted only by a single, tiny hole in her chest, and a highly engraved 9mm round that was enclosed in her palm. It had been ten years since I had seen that casing, at another crime scene much close to my heart. Still carved in pretty scrolled letters was the main design – Love.
                “Whatta we have Bobby?” I rubbed her cheek with the side of my thumb, feeling the cold, unmoving skin beneath my fingers. “Hey! We can’t touch the victims remember? Pretty sure we learned that the first day detective!” I stood up, turning slowly to face him. “I’m sorry captain, something is just hitting me inside right now. I’ve never seen one of these victims look so peaceful. It’s heart breaking." He stood by me in silence at that, and nodded in agreement. “What can you tell me, Detective?”
                “We are still waiting on the identity of the victim. From the looks of it though, it seems that she was killed by a single gunshot to the heart. From the looks of how she’s lying, it looks like whoever killed her took great effort into making sure she didn’t suffer.” He stopped me. “How do you know that?” I pointed at her. “Just look at her, look at how peaceful she is. I don’t think she even felt the bullet that killed her. “ He nodded in agreement once more.
                “Listen Captain,” He said as he began moving backward. “I can’t be here right now, I just can’t.” The captain nodded and I began to walk to my car. After a moment though, it was less of a walk and more of a drunken stumble. I reached the door of my Crown Vic and clumsily opened the driver’s door. “Shit, she looks just like Maria.” I said to myself calmly.
                The Ford V-8 turned over smoothly with one turn of the key, and I pulled away silently. The silence didn’t last long, though. At the first freeway on ramp I flattened the accelerator and flicked on my emergency lights, screw ‘em if it was against the rules. I felt the vibrations from all eight cylinders thundering through my bones as the miles ticked away. Where the speed limits signs flew by screaming I could only do 70, I watched the Speedo creep up over 140 and continue to climb. I didn’t care about the wear and tear, or the fuel economy. I needed this speed. I felt huge g-forces slamming me into my bucket seat as I swung the big Ford saloon into the off-ramp that I nearly missed.
                I needed to talk to someone – secrecy be damned. I needed to make sense of this. Whoever had killed this woman had killed…he…had killed, Maria, my wife. I had seen her, laying the same way. They same half smile forever frozen upon her lips, and the same comfort engrained into her eyes. Whoever this was, I was going to find them, and soon.
                At the next turn I spun the wheel left, going a little too fast, I felt the tail of the car flick out a little. With a tap to the left, I corrected, and then reached down to turn the emergency lights off. I pulled quietly into the sleepy neighborhood I had known as a child. A neighborhood now over run with gangs and hoodlums, but a neighborhood that my best friend refused to leave.
                The driveway was empty, apart from the faded black Toyota Camry that stood like a faithful guard dog, waiting patiently and staring out at the street. I moved silently up the cracked cement stairs to the front door and knocked, before unlocking it with the spare key he had given me decades ago. Somewhere I could hear the soft clicking action of a familiar shotgun.  
                “Put the gun down Matthew, it’s me, Bobby.” I could now hear rustling along with a bit of grumbling. An old man whose age matched mine came around the corner of his small kitchen; an even older Remington clenched his calloused hands. “Do you have any concept of time Bobby? You know, some people actually sleep at night.” He moaned sorely.
                “Some people aren’t Homicide detectives, Matthew.” He nodded and rested the shotgun against his kitchen counter top. “Can I get you anything to drink, old friend? Coffee maybe? Or by the looks of it, you could probably use some Brandy. I’ll get you some.”
                “Thank you, Matthew.” He chuckled loudly from the kitchen. “No trouble at all, my friend. But maybe our next date could be lunch instead of drinks at o-dark-thirty, eh?” I shook my head, both of us laughing. Still standing in the entry way, I kicked off my boots and let my tired meet soak up the carpet, it felt good on my heels which I thought had been destroyed with sledge hammers. Looking around a room, I recalled everything, and the purpose of everything. The rifle over the fire place that had belonged to his father, the many different car keys that hung from his key rack as a badge of honor for the vehicles he owned. The handgun that must’ve been hidden in at least one drawer that was close by.
                But then my eyes spotted something I hadn’t seen before. It was a small box, made of beautifully figured bird’s eye maple, and adorned with engravings of gold leaf, and a familiar looking lock. Quietly, I slid the same key I’d used for the front door into it and turned. It popped open solidly, but silently. I lifted the lid, feeling the highly oiled gears move with ease. Inside was literally a piece of art.
                A silver Walther PPK, silencer, magazines, and loose rounds that were all engraved with gold. Whoever had made this had taken great care. And Matthew had obviously left no expense unspent in its making. I was admiring it for a good minute before I picked up one of the bullets which I noticed was also engraved. Carved in big, poetic looking scroll, was one word – Love.
                Every ounce of blood in my body turned to ice. My heart became a stone. This was the murder weapon. Matthews had killed that woman tonight. Michael, my best friend of more than 25 years, had senselessly murder my wife. “Bobby I got your…” He came around the corner with a brandy glass in his hands and he stopped. “Oh God, you didn’t.” He said in almost a whisper. I could feel the blood go hot in my veins, my heart now pounding.
 In one motion, I dropped the bullet and ripped my Beretta from its holster. At the same time, he brought the Remington from the floor to his shoulder. Two shotgun slugs whistled passed my head, as I brought him into my sights. Within one single moment, I coldly squeezed the trigger and buried six rounds squarely in his chest. He gasped, dropping the shotgun, and fell the floor. My best friend – the murderer of my wife was dead. I had to kill him.

Thursday, April 7, 2011

Class recap - daily prompt

Well, I liked the class as a hole. I loved the poerty, and really enjoyed being able to write whatever I wanted. But I'm sorry, I can't stand that hole "get to know your class" crap. Where we WASTED the first week of class going around the class and telling our names. I don't care about Joe Schmoe on the other side of the room who went to the beach last year. I care about learning, and hanging with my friends and working on writing. It's been my number one problem with all of these classes. I also don't like some of the prompts. The big bunny??? Are you screwing with me??? Give me a good starting point and I'll write you solid gold. But I just couldn't stand someone of the writings we had to do. But other than that, Mr. Krebs, I absolutely LOVED this class.

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

Bad Mojo (prompt)

I've never been to a bad resturaunt. Unless you count the one I'm at every day. School. Have you tried the food here? It's terrible. The chicken is mushy, the hamburger is dry, the portions are small. It's downright terrible.

Tuesday, April 5, 2011

Mein Resturaunt (prompt)

The atmoshpere of this place was dark, and very mysterious. The ceiling was a sea of mirros and the floor was covered by a mass of multi colored tiles all linked together by some mystical pattern that blossomed at the very centered of large, round, high ceiling'd room. There was a low stage where a Tama drum kit sat dormant, waiting to be used. Only a few feet from it, a pair of Flamenco guitarists had the audience stunned in perfect silence. The only sound was the percussive, impossibly fast rythym of their big Italian acoustic guitars. As I looked up, I could see electric guitars of every color hanging from the ceiling. There were only low lights illuminating The Illiad, as the resturaunt wa called, but that only added to the atmoshpere. The walls were lined with deep, soft planks of ebony that caught the light and sucked it in similar to how a black hole would. It was impossibly dark, but somehow I could still make out the fine, cursive print on the menu. As I waited for m food, sipping on a Jagermeister and Coke, I ran my hands over the solid mahogany table, feel that knots abd dents, everything little feature set off a fireworks display in my brain as the synapses in my brain couldn't keep up with the stimulus. So I stopped thinking, let the music seap in through my skin and began to move into the swirling mob of people up against the stage...and I began to dance.

Monday, April 4, 2011



Tyler Arndt
Scene 1
“Do you remember when this place used to be beautiful, Alexei?” I didn’t have an answer. I didn’t want to say no. I had seen many pictures of this place in school, in my text books. But my eyes had never gazed upon the beauty that had been the Amazon rainforest. Now is was a flat No-Man’s-Land where apartment complex’s were being constructed and the last of the massive trees were being cut down cleanly to make over-priced bits of furniture, guitars, and the like. “I don’t remember. I wish I had been able to see it.”
            “It was like a sea of brown and green. There were a million different creatures that called this place home. Now they are only kept alive in captivity. But I guess the Great Father is never wrong, is he?” We chuckled, but if anyone else had heard even a snip of our conversation, we would’ve been drawn and quartered then and there.
            “Alexei, there is something I wish to speak to you about. Something very important and…” Two heavily armed soldiers walked past and stiffly saluted us. We returned the salute just as stiffly. We would’ve probably been arrested if we hadn’t. “…and very private. Come with me.” He took me down into the high clearance depths of the WCP South African base of operations, into one of the few rooms that wasn’t monitored. It was however lockable from the inside and sound proof.
            “Alexei, I know you. I know that you carry the same burdens, and the same beliefs that I do. That could make us both very valuable to certain individuals who would like to advance in the WCP. But if you do not agree with what I’m about to tell you…one of us cannot leave this room alive. Do you understand?” I nodded, the blood in my veins becoming hot with what he could mean. “I have a simple plan which can get us off of this planet, to one where we can truly be free. Zira.” I paused for a moment letting that information digest. “So the stories are true then, Mikhail?” He nodded. “But I haven’t yet told you the first part of my plan.” I waited so he could speak. “We are going to assassinate the great father.”
            Scene 2
            “Are you out of your mind Mikhail? How could such a thing even be done?” Completely calm, Mikhail pulled something out of his pocket and held it out to me. “A fountain pen?” I said sarcastically. “What, are you going to try and stab him to death? Or give him ink poisoning???” Still without a word he turned the pen, until I could see a very light red radiation symbol. “What, is your murder-pen radioactive???”
            “Alexei, what you’re looking at is a nano-bomb. To be precise, a forty megaton hydrogen bomb. I twist the button for hours, click four times…and run.” I could feel my lower jaw unhinge as it hit the floor. “You’re really serious about this, aren’t you?” His wicked smile faded into a scowl. He reached his right hand to a pistol holster on his belt and proceeded to press his Makarov pistol flush against his temple. The pen was extended towards me.
            “Two choices Alexei: Yes or No. If you say no sooner or later I will be executed for it. So, if that is your answer I will die now. Make your choice.” I stared him in the eyes. And then grabbed the pen. I could see he was visibly relieved by this, as he nearly dropped the handgun. “How will we escape Mikhail?”
            “There is a T31 Star Fighter waiting fueled and armed on the runway not far from here especially for us. All we need to do is conceal this, preferably in this room.” We looked around for a moment before deciding on a place in between a few identical pens. “Once this is set, there is no way to reverse it.” We carefully clicked the button until it was set around one hour and set the device. “Let’s move, it will take us forty five minutes to get to the air-field, and that’s still in the blast radius.”
            “Cutting it a little close aren’t we?” He smiled that same wicked green. “We are soldiers, cutting it close is in our job description.” We began moving quickly, at the top of the stairs a large gleaming black Gaz Chika was waiting for us. I got behind the wheel and pinned the accelerator to the floor. In a cloud of white smoke, we were off.
Scene 3
            We slid sideways into the air port only feet away from our waiting plane. But there was a problem, one political officer was waiting for us there, along with two heavily armed soldiers. “When we get to them, you take the one on the left; I’ll get the man on the right. We’ll take the officer together.” I nodded and we approached them slowly.
            “Officers Petrov and Velandra. I’m afraid we have denied you access to this plane. Now please come with me for your interrogation. “Of Course political officer.” He said with the normal grunt snap and cheer. But with ten feet away from the three, Mikhail and I both drew our pistols and fired, killing both guards instantly. The political officer reached for his revolver, but was cut down by a salvo from the handguns. “Grab the rifles, we will need them!” An alarm went up all around us and we leapt into the two-person fighter jet. “Now would be an excellent time to depart, Mikhail!” Our cockpit sealed tight and I could feel the massive jet engines build up power. Within a second, we were careening down the runway. I could hear a massive boom as we punched a giant hole straight through the sound barrier. “Detonation in ten seconds…nine…eight.” I looked off into the horizon were I could just make out the base through my thick, black visor.
            There was a massive burst of light, I watched as it grew outward, crushing and vaporizing everything in it’s path. True, uncensored destruction. I felt this warmth on this inside. ‘The Great Leader’, and all of his staff, advisors, and underlings had been in the very epicenter of that blast.  No one, not even some of the dictators from before whop were almost un-killable could’ve survived that. We had turned our oppressive government into dust. Even the dust had been vaporized.
            “Where too now, Mikhail?” He brought up the holo-projection screen in my part of the cockpit to show us a large space ship waiting in the lower space. This is the space Destroyer Illiad. She is a rebel ship from the planet Tunec. And she will take us to Zira. Unfortunately, our T31 doesn’t have a warp drive. This ship does.” He put the accelerator all the way forward and we shot through the lower atmosphere and into space. Out of the darkness there, loomed what looked like an ancient battle ship floating in space only 4 times the size, armed with massive lasers that looked like cannons of old. Written in blood on her bow, was the great novel of Homer – the Illiad.
Scene 4
            The great maw of the Illiad opened and we flew in, making a vertical landing. The doors closed and a group of uniformed soldiers approached us. We jumped from the aircraft to great us. “A T31, eh? I had a great deal many friends murdered by those.” One said. “I’ve watched 10 of the uniforms fall to the earth covered in blood.” Said another. Their ‘leader’ carried an archaic K5 light machine gun, while the others were all armed with H6 assault rifles. Unlike their weapons though, their uniforms were of the highest quality, and they all brandished what both Mikhail and I knew to be the original flag of a long passed country called America.
            “Are you Major General Mikhail Petrov and Captain Alexei Velandra?” He asked in an accent much smoother than my own. “Yes, sir.” We both chimed. “Welcome aboard, I’m 2nd General Anthony Caesar. It’s my job to protect this vessel, and command it’s military forces, which your are now apart of. My people have been briefed on who you are and the fact that they may be taking orders from you. And we have received confirmation that “The Great Leader and his entire general staff are now but ashes. Good job.” Mihail nodded. “Find yourselves a free bunk, and enjoy the ride. You’re free now. That is all.” And with that, we saluted our new leader.

To Be Continued…

Under the carpet (prompt)

"DIE SATAN'S MINION!!!" The old man swung the chair down unto the floor where it shatter. "Bugger!" He yelled. "You clever devil, come back here." He leapt like a cat to the floor where he propped himself up on all fours. The small bump skid to and fro as the old man pounced on it. Slyly it ran under a table and knocked it to the ground. A large lamp shattered on the old man's head. As he got up from the shock, a white, happ eyed cat slid out from under the rug. "Confound it, cuddles! I nearly killed you!" The cat purred, almost smiling as the old man's leathery hand scratched his neck.

Friday, April 1, 2011

Polizei Act 6

Behind him the noise escalated. The revving of a large engine. There was a massive explosion of force and we were thrown sideways. The Jeep twisted and torqued under the pressure of the T-bone. We were under attack again.