Wednesday, March 23, 2005

Plot Bunny

His lawyer murmured something about appealing. The din from the crowd behind him mingled with the roaring in his ears. Guilty? He stared at the men and women in the jury box. How could they think he could do that to anyone much less to Sarah and the baby? How could the whole country?

The judge banged her gravel, sitting high above and safe behind the big wood desk. He guessed they weren't finished. Well, neither was he.

His lawyer tugged on him to sit down. He couldn't, they had to hear what he had to say. They were wrong. "You're wrong," he croaked. His voice cracked and he started again. "Sarah's killer is still out there. You just let them get away. I didn't kill Sarah or Lance!"

Peter fell back in his chair. The roaring in his head finally broke and he covered his face with his hands.

Wednesday, March 09, 2005

Let Us Give Thanks Post 2

"He'll burn the garage down before that happens."

"What is wrong with you? You've been less depressed faced with having to eat Vinnie's cooking."

"Oh now you're worried about how I feel. Imagine that, I'm worried that your playing detective is going to get our friends killed!"

Metal clanged on the tiled floor some where in the vegatable section of the grocery store. A spring hit the ceiling, and even more metal bits hit the floor.

"Well, now we've moved from depressed to hostile."

"SPARKS! Bring me some paper towels, now!" Tala bellowed from the back of the store.

Charley let go of the grocery cart and put her hands on her hips as she glared at Throttle. "You can't send Modo and Sparks into the other pits on race day. The other crews will assume they're spying and hurt them. And don't even say they wouldn't; no one is as noble as you!"

Her anger didn't seem to touch him. "Valid point. Maybe we should talk to the concession stand workers."

Sparks skidded to a stop beside the cart. "Where's Tala?" He hugged a roll of paper towels.

Friday, March 04, 2005

Zy's Novel notes

Personal Journal
9.19.1010/5 August 1997 (Set the date after she's been with Murdock for a few months)

Murdock says I need something to relieve stress, something removed from the self-defense training. I think he's just tired of listening to me practice 'cause he recommended painting.

I haven't played with colors since grade school, but he bought me a complete art set at the last station. Chalk, pastels, oils, charcoals, watercolors, brushes, easel, and a dozen different sized canvases. I don't think anyone has ever spent that much money on me.

I suppose that means I'm going to have to use them so not to hurt his feelings. But I'm not taking lessons.