"Any updates, Calvin?" my friend, Tracy Knox, inquires as go over some of my notes.
"Not a bit. I still can't find the source of those noises supposedly belonging to Charles Finney's third cousin. I've got to, though - it's ruined four plays so far."
Tracy nods, shivering. "This place has always given me the creeps. I've seen it hundreds of times since my uncle bought it, but..."
"MUHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" a horrible screech fills the theater, causing Tracy to jump and restrict the blood on my left arm with both of hers.
"Either he's got a good set of lungs or a good set of speakers. I'll wager it's the latter..."
CCRREEAAKK! I look up into the darkness of the backstage, right as three three sandbags come sailing towards us.
Grabbing Tracy, I execute a side break fall, her on top of me, the bags narrowly missing us.
"Thank God," she breathes as we rise to our feet, I fingering my right hand Smith & Wesson M&P9. "I guess we're dealing with more than just a prankster."
"It could have been an accident, but I highly doubt it," I declare. "We better call your uncle..."
"That won't be necessary," a crackly voice states, each word coming from a different part of the massive room. "Hands on your head, please, children. You have disturbed by bones, which are buried here, long enough."
I know the demonic exists, but I'm finding it really hard to believe in this case...
"What do you want?" I question, praying it's all a hoax.
"For the lovely Miss Tracy's uncle to get rid of this place..."
"Because there's a treasure and you want it and you're going to buy it?"
An awkward silence reigns. "Go walk off a waterfall. What would a ghost want with treasure?"
"Good question," I reply, my scan finally picking out a figure with a rifle high up in the darkness. "How about you answer that for us..."
He's setting it down...Excellent!
"Enough talk. I'm leaving."
"No you're not," I yell, drawing my M&P9 and shielding Tracy with my body. "Step away from the gun - just a little bit. Tracy, 911."
"On it," she replies, pulling her Defender-encased Samsung Galaxy S4 Active from her All-American Clothing denim capris.
What a wild first mystery. Thanks for making it turn out alright, God. I guess we'll see what happens next...
I love it! As a fiction writer, this is a great venue to practice my craft. I'm not a comedy writer by trade (which doubtlessly shows at times), so this is a great place to practice it. It's good for me, it's good for CC - everyone wins!
Calvin Jones and the Curse of the Opera
ReplyDelete"Any updates, Calvin?" my friend, Tracy Knox, inquires as go over some of my notes.
"Not a bit. I still can't find the source of those noises supposedly belonging to Charles Finney's third cousin. I've got to, though - it's ruined four plays so far."
Tracy nods, shivering. "This place has always given me the creeps. I've seen it hundreds of times since my uncle bought it, but..."
"MUHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" a horrible screech fills the theater, causing Tracy to jump and restrict the blood on my left arm with both of hers.
"Either he's got a good set of lungs or a good set of speakers. I'll wager it's the latter..."
CCRREEAAKK! I look up into the darkness of the backstage, right as three three sandbags come sailing towards us.
Grabbing Tracy, I execute a side break fall, her on top of me, the bags narrowly missing us.
"Thank God," she breathes as we rise to our feet, I fingering my right hand Smith & Wesson M&P9. "I guess we're dealing with more than just a prankster."
"It could have been an accident, but I highly doubt it," I declare. "We better call your uncle..."
"That won't be necessary," a crackly voice states, each word coming from a different part of the massive room. "Hands on your head, please, children. You have disturbed by bones, which are buried here, long enough."
I know the demonic exists, but I'm finding it really hard to believe in this case...
"What do you want?" I question, praying it's all a hoax.
"For the lovely Miss Tracy's uncle to get rid of this place..."
"Because there's a treasure and you want it and you're going to buy it?"
An awkward silence reigns. "Go walk off a waterfall. What would a ghost want with treasure?"
"Good question," I reply, my scan finally picking out a figure with a rifle high up in the darkness. "How about you answer that for us..."
He's setting it down...Excellent!
"Enough talk. I'm leaving."
"No you're not," I yell, drawing my M&P9 and shielding Tracy with my body. "Step away from the gun - just a little bit. Tracy, 911."
"On it," she replies, pulling her Defender-encased Samsung Galaxy S4 Active from her All-American Clothing denim capris.
What a wild first mystery. Thanks for making it turn out alright, God. I guess we'll see what happens next...
Joel, I hope you are having as much fun writing these as I do reading them!
DeleteI love it! As a fiction writer, this is a great venue to practice my craft. I'm not a comedy writer by trade (which doubtlessly shows at times), so this is a great place to practice it. It's good for me, it's good for CC - everyone wins!
Delete