07 March 2007

I actually wrote this awhile back when I first had the idea for it in November, but figured I ought to post it since I haven't made much headway in it. Jane Francisco is a character I came up with in middle school. I know she's a bit of a Mary Sue, so shoot me. It worked for Laurell K. Hamilton.

Prologue

8:45 a.m. Eastern Time.

After a cup of coffee with two creams, two sugars and a Boston cream donut at the nearest Mom and Pop’s, Detective Jane Francisco decided that it was time to face the day. Like most of her days, this would require her looking in the face of death, running down blind alleyways and making it back to a Mom and Pop’s for the 7 o’clock special. Tonight it was Salisbury steak and mashed potatoes with a side of peas. It had all the makings of a home-cooked family meal, even if Jane had never eaten such a thing outside of a Mom and Pop’s.

It was a grey day down by the docks, typical of an Atlantic coastal November, or most of the year for that matter. Everything was grey except for the sticky mess of dark crimson that once was a living person staining the docks. Detective Eddie Peters wasn’t sure what turned his stomach more, watching Jane dumping all that sugar into her coffee followed by devouring the donut in the time it took to rub a stray speck out of his eye or the cold mash of humanity lying in a puddle of blood at his feet. He was glad he had poured a little whiskey from his flask into his coffee that morning. Jane could keep her sugar.

“What a mess.” Eddie pulled the lapel of his trenchcoat across his nose. He hadn’t washed it in weeks so the smell wasn’t that much of an improvement to the smell of rotten fish and rotten human on the docks.

“Heh. I always wondered why you wear those.” Sergeant Marcus O’Reilly smirked, pointing a thick finger at Eddie’s coat. “I just thought you had seen one too many of those old movies on TV.”

“That would be it too, but I do like the practicality of a large coat.” Detective Jane Francisco snapped on a pair of rubber gloves and bent over the corpse. “It’s much easier than carrying a purse around.”

“Right Francisco, because you’d carry your gun right next to your lipstick,” the look Detective Francisco shot O’Reilly was enough for him to barely end the “k” at the end of his sentence.

Jane fished around in the pockets of the John Doe’s windbreaker before checking the back pockets. She pulled out a wallet and glanced at the blood-soaked ID, “John Yossarian.” It was obviously a fake, but at least the guy had a sense of humor, at least concerning the fact he seemed to know that he was meant to die. But why? What could have been so important that he was willing to die for it?

“This wasn’t a robbery.” Jane put the bloody wallet into a plastic evidence bag.

“Then what was it?” O’Reilly coughed and looked away as soon as Detective Francisco turned over the body. Christ, the guy didn’t even have a face left.

“I’m not quite sure.” Jane pried a small plastic bag filled with yellow powder out of the corpse’s cold, stiff fingers.

“Drugs?” Eddie managed to cough out.

“No.” Jane opened the bag and sniffed it slightly before removing a glove and sticking her pinky finger in the powder and tasting it.

O’Reilly nearly threw up on his regulation-black shoes.

“If it isn’t drugs, then what is it?” Eddie stared at the smudge of blood on Jane’s hand from when it brushed against the crimson-stained plastic.

“Turmeric.” An odd smile crossed her face as she stared at the yellow stain left on her little finger.

06 March 2007

Balls, it's been awhile.

Ok, I know it's been months since my last update, but it's not like anyone really cares anyway. However, I do feel guilty that people have commented on some of my postings in my absence and feel compelled to update.

1.) I completed NaNoWriMo (all the way back in November). It's by no means a masterpiece, but at least 312 East Main Street can be off my mind until I'm scrambling to find something to turn in for portfolios. Also, thanks to Jake's suggestion that I do NaNoWriMo, I realized that if I can write a novel in a month, I can complete a grad school application. So, I've applied to the University of Oregon at Eugene. I still haven't heard back from them, but my odds aren't great at getting since a) I'm "just a kid" (typically, people in MFA programs usually have a decade on me) and b) I haven't been practicing much at it.

2.) I still have managed to not get fired from my job at TIS Bookstore. However, I am mildly disgruntled at the fact that I have to handle clothing and other merchandise with the former Chief "mascot" printed on it. Trust me, you do not want to get me started on the guilt and self-loathing I feel at having a share in the profit of the cultural commodification of a group of people who have been nothing but exploited since the foundations of this country. Although, that does sum it up rather nicely. On the up side, I've been commissioned to write a technical manual about the whole shipping process. If this sounds boring to anyone, please remember that any "assignment" is an excuse for me to write and attempt to make things more interesting. I think I'm going to write it in a form similar to a "choose your own adventure" fantasy short.

3.) My copy editing internship at The CulturalConnect has picked up (and how!). I tend to make a few flubs here and there, but it keeps me enough on my toes to try to pick up new skills like html and more religious adherence to the AP Style Manual so I don't get asked politely to leave.

4.) I seem to have completely given up on poetry. However, lately I've found myself monologuing on my long, cold, albeit pleasant walks home from work. Perhaps I should invest in a tape recorder or at least try to write down what I've been saying, although I seem to have forgotten today's little ramble.

5.) I (really) miss open mic nights even if I haven't written that much. I live on a college campus around passionate individuals, but I haven't really kept in touch with them (sorry older bro :frowny face: ).

6.) Paul. Why? That's all I'm willing to say.

7.) Mike/Honk. Subject of so many lame angsty myspace entries, but has proven himself to be one of the best friends I've made in college, especially since I'm technically "out" now.

8.) Jake. Still much more talented than me. I am surprisingly not competitive or bitter about this fact. I can't complain since he's one of the few people able to talk me off the ledge lately.

That's about all I can muster for now.