Author Topic: Vestige Of Duty - Prologue - 1981 words.  (Read 1217 times)

Offline Calvin

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Vestige Of Duty - Prologue - 1981 words.
« on: November 14, 2008, 01:00:38 PM »
    Almost hitting two years of membership and I am just posting my first work for review. I would appretiate any kind of reply, I really want to improve this write-up. It's the prologue to a thriller I am giving a go at.  --------------->

    Vivienne nearly fainted when she saw a typed message on her door step held in place by a knife. She knew before hand that something analogous to this would happen, but she never expected it to be this abrupt. Before reading the message she drew a structure of the content in her  mind.

At first she contemplated pulling some connections but of what good would that be? These were big men of the country. She was just a little fish that had unfortunately gotten herself in the sharks domain; this was the major league. What about just keeping her mouth shut? The message compelled her adrenaline to pump like a chow-chow train and her heart to skip through a lot of beats.

It pounded seriously like hammer on nail in her mind. This wasn't a plea or a warning; it wasn't a joke either. It was a sort of game, one that aimed at scaring her before the real ordeal began. This game seemed like a path with only one end and that conclusion wasn't in her favor in the least way. She could wind up ___________ No! She couldn't bring herself to think of such a thing.

She should have listened to Tunde when she had the chance, heeded to his sayings, orders and later pleas no matter how bad their relationship had been; now there was no going back. If she hadn't stubbornly scratched tooth and nail for a job she didn't really care for, all to get at Tunde's nerves. Well it was her nerves raving mad now, she had found out The Company's deeds reeked to high heavens.

Now she had well known Crime Lords, the Government and the Law upon her heels. The smartest action to take at the moment – it seemed to her- was to hit the road, a no return ticket to Madagascar was not bad; they wouldn't in their next life think she had bailed over to a back water nation. They did be busy combing through the U.S, Canada, all of Europe and the little islands fugitives always ended up in the movies, before they got killed. Lord knew they had the very much needed expandable resources and financial back up. This she had discovered much to her fascination by queer means.

She didn't want to go inside her home, there was still a possibility that they were inside, assassins or the police ______ not the police. The police didn't threaten, it just wasn't their style. At the very best with the law she had rights or better chances of coming out of her dangerous situation alive. With the Crime Lords, her only right was one in the obituary section of the newspapers or becoming seafood at the bottom of the Atlantic. Among the things that disturbed her was the structure of the knife pinned on the thick mahogany door of her home. It had a skull shaped handle with a fire replica at the tip. It's pointed edge had been so sharp and strong it penetrated the hard wood of her door. The knife was made for one purpose only ________ to KILL. She imagined it being plunged into her with blood pooling out. That she had to avoid.

She had to bail out. She searched through her bag in a fidgety manner, searching and shaking, dropping and picking. At last she finally hit Jackpot. She brought out her phone in a jittery way and dialed Tunde's number by memory.

After three trials the phone was picked at the other end. In a split of a second not caring much for greetings and the rest of the pleasantries she told him all he needed to know. Then she had to go all over it again, being urged to speak slowly by a much patient Tunde. She knew what to expect from Tunde, he was the 'Mr Know it all'. After she had spilled some half truth and half lies making sure she didn't mention crucial facts that would put in jeopardy. She finally kept quiet and for what seemed to her like an hour there was silence on both ends.

“It's your job isn't it?” He asked rhetorically.

She confirmed his conclusion with more silence.

“I won't say 'I told you so'” He continued, surprisingly calm “But give you some advice”

“Which is?”

“Get the hell out of the continent, you are toying with the  Kings of the jungle here, the real thing!”

She said she knew what she had to do and for once he didn't argue. He offered help but she declined, she had called him for no just reason. It was best not to put him into the peril she was in. He wouldn't if it had been him, which would have been so typical of Tunde and his ever caring nature.

On her way to hail a cab she thought of the country she used to be proud of. She thought of the law and the options it had to offer. She knew it didn't put up much, now criminals had numerous ways of using the law as a protective armor or even a spear. Those who were too deep into crime to use it went through other media, like the real eye popper she had found out. She would end up dead if she didn't act fast. Was  she doing the right thing? Could she trust someone up there? Maybe a senator or someone in the house of reps? No matter the option she took she stood no chance of ever living a normal life. How she wished she could just open her eyes and it would all be a dream ________ or rather a nightmare.

Stopping a taxi was easy, an unusual feat during rush hours. She told the driver to head for Broad Street; She needed money for her departure.

She opened her handbag and began to apply some make up, even with the present situation her concern for her beauty soared. After a while she looked out the window and was shocked, the driver had taken the wrong way. They were supposed to know the streets of Lagos like the back of their hands, besides Broad Street was well known. That's when she knew, it was like the after-sleep mucus had been wiped off her eyes slowly. It dawned on her like a tongue of fire; the Crime Lords had caught up with her. She screamed and begged but to no avail, all this went on till the driver held the brakes propelling her forward like an abused doll. She shrieked as she smashed her face on the front car seat earning herself a bleeding broken nose for all her trouble.

She looked through her tear stained eyes at the man that had just swung the door open. His face looked ___________ Christ! She cursed within her. It was Tunde, How? It was Tunde alright, except the one standing in front of her looked deadly. Maybe it was because of the saber he had just drawn out of its sheath.

He stretched out and with long lean hands forced her out the car. She felt metal rip through her skin with fiery pain and her hand began to get numb, must be a pretty deep cut. She couldn’t get a good view of the saber but knew it was from the same set as the little note on her door when she saw a red tip at the top of it’s handle.

She was  scared out of her wits, the sword looked more deadly than the knife. Maybe it was because it was being held by a man with a cold smile on his face or because it was about fifteen inches long and would in no time be that same length deep in her chest.

He started ranting about her nosey nature, he spoke like he was talking to a confused four year old; his voice all responsible, mature and caring but the wicked glint in his cold eyes betrayed him. She had stumbled on her death, she had made a fatal mistake, she should have put her trust in no one, not even herself, she should have heeded when he told her not to take the job, she had  a stubborn nature, all this he said and more with a leery smile on ice . She wasn’t listening to his shit though, she had to escape real fast. Her knees were buckled in the sand, her hands and feet were numb with fear. There was no way she could outrun him, he would catch her or even worse torment her with the chase. He seemed the type.

For the first time she looked around, initially in search of a weapon and then later to identify her environment. There was nothing she could arm herself with and she could ascertain that they were in the middle of nowhere. They were surrounded by trees on one side, this was the outskirt of a thick forest.

Like a lifer she went for her only chance, escape and escape meant RUN! At the least she could at her very best loose him in the woods. She grabbed a handful of sand and threw at his eyes with much effectiveness. Seizing the opportunity she was already on her feet running with the wind, her knuckles bolted and teeth gnashed.

He didn’t waste much time, his life depended on the job. If he didn’t take care of her they both would be taken care of, it came with his line of business. He went on hot pursuit, jumping shrubs and dodging branches.

Vivienne kept on looking back but still keeping her pace; She was never going out on a date if  she escaped from this. He was gaining on her at a fast rate. She had to move faster, but she couldn’t; she was at her limit. She felt the scratches from tree branches knowing more was to come, no more bikini sunbaths at the beach. Alas, she stumbled over a camouflaged tree stump and in a few seconds was on the ground flat.

He didn’t give her time to regain her feet. He quickened his pace like he had been injected with steroids and was over her before she could regain her feet. This was it, the final deed to secure his job; this was his life being saved as he smiled wickedly while driving the horrible saber through her right breast. He could sleep well now; he was safe.

Vivienne heard him laugh as he plunged the knife into her; she felt the shaft demon pierce through her. She could hear the frantic beats of cricket wings and the fire ants moving through the dead leaves as she pushed on top them. The tree trunks twisted on the ground were alive with fire ants. She saw now the entire universe she had never noticed. The ground was shaking, probably because she was kicking her legs and flailing her arms backward. Trying to get away from the metal, the demon. She heard something else, it had been there all this while. A maniacal laugh of death, though she couldn’t move no one was holding her down anymore.

This wasn’t how she had imagined dying, she always thought of going into the next world in a peaceful way, this was dreadful. She touched the injured part with no strength to scream and even if she had, no one would have heard her in the woods. She didn’t see but felt the blood dripping, her dress was soaked, her hand painted with the red substance. This was the price to pay for performing one’s duty. Damn the Nation! Damn the Government! Damn the Law! Damn the Force! Damn The Company! And with that she blacked out never to awaken from the sleep she had been put into.

To see the world in a grian of sand, hold infinity at the palm of my hand.

Offline Nigel Billington

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Re: Vestige Of Duty - Prologue - 1981 words.
« Reply #1 on: June 12, 2021, 05:42:46 AM »
Interesting read so far  :)
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