Write a 26-word story where every word begins with a
different letter of the alphabet. (Instead of sticking to 26 words, I wrote a story where every sentence begins with a different letter of the alphabet. I went through the alphabet twice in this story...hope you enjoy!)
After he called, Laura got out of bed and started making
coffee. Brian would want coffee when he
got home. Coffee with two sugar cubes
and a little dash of vanilla creamer.
Detectives usually liked their coffee black, but the detective who had visited that morning wanted two sugar cubes and a dash of vanilla creamer. Ever since he left, Laura had felt uneasy,
like she’d said too much or not said enough.
Fake names were easy to forget and sometimes she worried that she would
mix up who she was now with who she used to be.
Going around pretending to be someone that you’re not gets old, after
all. Having to remember all those
stories was nothing when she was twenty but now that her hair was starting to
turn grey, she found herself forgetting things more and more often.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” Brian said, stepping through the
back door as quiet as a mouse. Just as he
pushed the door closed, the coffee started to drip from the pot. “Know anything new?”
Laura tapped a spoon against the counter nervously. “Mrs. Reynolds said that our rent check is
late.”
“Never mind that,” Brian said, sitting at the little table
by the back door and stretching his long legs out in front of him. “Only a day late, anyway,” he said with a
shrug.
“Police came by today.”
“Quite the day you had, then.”
“Really, Brian,” Laura said, putting her hand on her
hip. “Seems like you could manage to
stay out of trouble for once.”
“Trouble?”
“Under a microscope.
Vanishing again. Wondering all
the time when we’ll be caught,” Laura muttered.
“X marks the spot.”
“You’re never serious,” Laura said, watching him grin while
she poured his coffee. “Zip it.”
“Alright, then.”
Brian smiled and folded his hands behind his head as he leaned his chair
back on two legs. “Can’t say I didn’t
warn you.”
“Did you?” Laura asked fidgeting with a dishtowel as she leaned against the counter.
“Ever since day one.
First time we met, I told you that I was no good.”
“Good girls like bad boys,” Laura said with a wistful grin.
“Helps make life more interesting for them, I guess. I never thought you’d stick with
me, though.”
“Jonesboro changed things,” Laura whispered, her eyes
narrowing as she remembered the first night she’d become his accomplice. Knowing what he did was one thing. Laura shivered as she remembered the first
night she’d helped him do it. Maybe she should
have left after that night, but she never felt like she could.
“Never did get over that, did you?” Brian asked.
“Only time I ever helped,” Laura muttered. “Paid a pretty high price for it, too.” Quiet pain settled on her face as she ran her
hand over her stomach, feeling the knotted scar through the thin fabric of her
nightgown.
Reality had been hard for her to swallow. She had thought his business was
glamorous. The first time she went along
for a ride, she went and got herself shot right in the stomach and Brian had
thought he would lose her for good.
“Understand this,” he said, leaning forward with his elbows
resting on his knees. “Virginia.”
When he used her real name, Laura looked up, surprise
filling her tired green eyes.
“X marks the spot,” he repeated, handing her a wrinkled map
with a large red X drawn over the state of California.
“You’re taking me to California?” she asked.
“Zero chance they’ll look for us there,” he said. “And when we get there, we’ll start over.”
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