NaNo, Day 2, Part 2

I’ve been able to write a steady average of 1,000 words with every sitting, and I managed to do the same again, hitting 4,056. I may try another round tonight, but even if I don’t, I’m ahead of the curve right now. This session was the first one where I found the words flowing a bit easier. I imagine I’m finally working the rust off the gears, and they’re starting to move more quickly. Don’t get me wrong, I still think this writing is terrible, but it’s getting written. You can’t edit a blank page. Now, I have a dilemma. I know that I said I would be completely forward with everything as it comes to me and I work it. Today, I hit a brilliant idea for a plot twist, and I’m not sure if I should mention that one or let it be. This one will change the entire fabric of the story, and I think it will make it more interesting.

Okay, in the interest of openness, I will post it, but I will post it after the latest excerpt. If you want to know, feel free to keep reading. And if you’re happy with being surprised, you can stop. Without further ado, here’s Day 2, Part 2.


sighed. I hoped, maybe, maybe I would get the chance to make up for my error from so long ago. But it appeared that I would get no such respite. I had failed. Utterly and completely. 

Okay. So, time to make a few calls and start planning for…after. First, I had to reach out to my financial adviser. I wanted to make sure my fortune would at least be able to do some good long after I’d gone. I would have him invest it in new ventures that would help the helpless, along with the programs I already supported.

Then, I would have to deal with Cat. I didn’t want to take him to a shelter, but what other option did I have? I didn’t want to just put him out into the street. 

Finally, I would have to log into the police system and eliminate all traces of myself. Although, this time, would it really matter? I wasn’t going to need a new identity this time. Before this, I found it necessary to move from place to place after a certain number of years. If you stay in one place for too long and people notice you’re not aging, it can go very badly. Even to the point where someone might try to hang you as a witch. I managed to get out of that situation just in time. Since that time four centuries ago, I tend to stay no longer than ten years in any one place. As technology progressed, it became increasingly more difficult to craft a new identity for myself. At least, until the age of the internet. I learned the ins and outs of the World Wide Web, which is easy when you’re there from the beginning and have all the time in the world. Since then, it has been child’s play to enter a new identity into the universe. I have always gravitated towards positions that could help others. I have been a doctor–with several degrees that have been legitimate, a firefighter, and a policeman. These have helped me keep an ear to the ground for any strange goings-on, and every time I hear of a possible rumor, I move on. Or at least, I used to. Seven years ago, there was some underground chatter of a murdered courtesan–sorry, every now and then, my words prove to be older than usual. A street walker. A prostitute. I made my way here, managed to get a job in a local station, and waited with anticipation for any further murders. But, nothing. Seven years later and there has been nothing but silence on that end. In one respect, I don’t mind. I have seen enough death meted by this monster that if I never saw another casualty of his, I would be happy. But in another respect, I feel as if things are unresolved. I never got to confront him and truly find justice for all the murdered women in his wake. 

And now? What was there left for me to do? It wasn’t like Jack to stay quiet for so long. The only possibility was that he was no longer around to wreak havoc. So, what purpose could I possibly serve.

I supposed I could continue helping people, continue preventing further crimes. But, after so long, so many centuries of existence, of being alone, of having no one to share one’s experience with, one gets tired. I didn’t know what the other side held, but I was finally ready to find out.

I closed my eyes and lay my head back against the sofa. I felt Cat leap onto the sofa and make his way towards me. He plopped down on my lap and nudged my hand. I obligingly stroked his fur, evoking his contented purr again. The quiet vibration was soothing, and, before I knew it, I had dozed off.

The sharp jangling of my land line jolted me out of my dream of ashes and fire. The phone never rang, and the only reason I even had it was because my job required a way to contact me. I refused to get a cell phone, thinking that was taking technology a bit too far. And so, I had a phone that never rang. Until now.

The cat had jumped off my lap when I startled awake, so there was no impediment to my rising. I hurried to the phone and answered it on the third ring.


“Leon? Where the hell are you?” It was Sawyer Alistair, my captain, and he sounded out of breath.

I looked at my watch. It was noon. “Sorry, Captain. I wasn’t feeling well today. Just woke up.”

“I don’t care. I need you down here right now.”

I raised an eyebrow. This urgency was unlike Alistair. I couldn’t even begin to imagine what could work up my normally unflappable superior into such a lather. “Okay. Let me get dressed and I’ll be down at the station in just a few.”

“No, not the station. The Twin Palms Motel on Grand. And make it snappy.”

The Twin Palms? That was an exceedingly sketchy area of town. We had busted many a drug dealer in that neighborhood, as well as bringing in the occasional…prostitute. A wave of excitement fought against a similar wave of anxiety. Could this be? After all this time? “I’ll be right there.”

There’s nothing more intimidating to riders than seeing someone in full cop regalia on a bus. Yet here I was, and sure enough, no one on the bus would make eye contact. Considering that this bus was heading to Grand, I imagined several riders wanted to avoid law enforcement as much as possible. I obliged by sitting in the back, by myself. I wasn’t interested in any of the commuters. I only wanted to get to the Twin Palms as quickly as possible to see for myself what was going on. It was the longest ride of my life, and that was saying quite a bit, seeing as I have traversed the Sahara on the back of a camel once.

Finally, the bus pulled up across the street from the motel. I


And that’s the end of the excerpt. Last chance to stop reading before I discuss the new direction the story took.


Okay, if you’re still here, this is what I came up with. The running for office idea was a decent one, but it was going to be too hard to follow through on. How did Leon not know about it if he’s been in town all this time? Why would a killer even want the notoriety?

So, this morning, I came up with a new idea. What if Jack got facial reconstruction, so that he wouldn’t be recognized? And what if Jack is fully aware of Leon’s comings and goings and is actually manipulating him? And what if Jack is actually…dun dun dun! his boss, Captain Alistair? The last part actually came to me as I was writing this last bit. This is the part I love about writing. Where I can be surprised just as much as the reader by what happens.

That’s all for now. Thanks for reading!

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