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And again...

Posted by tyney123 on 2006.05.09 at 20:43
Current Location: Stockton On Tees
Current Mood: draineddrained
Tags: , , ,
Me again!

Last one!

This is the longest and most crappiest thriller I have written. The finished one is upstairs with all the simple plot turns and what nots. (And a sex scene! Don't I rock? *hay ball*) 

James Miller, average Joe in a messed up world. I mainly like the begining to this as I can see it on film more some reason (or I have an over active imagination :p)



“James will you please hurry up?” Her voice echoed around the dimly lit white walls. “Your boss does not like to be kept waiting,” her little laugh followed him where ever he went now. “Here put this tie on.” He was lying deep in his crimson bed covers, her voice ticking throughout his head. “I don't see why we have to attend this dinner, it’s not like we even no Richard that well anyway.” Even in the hardest of times she managed to keep a sense of refined dignity about her. He still lay there, now stiff as wood looking up to the white ceiling through the cranberry coloured blanket.

    “Amanda…”He sobbed quietly to himself, turning onto his side. James was nobody special; he had horrible, pasty, white skin and a thin, small bony body to match. His face was nothing to brag about either, he had two sky blue sunken eyes, sharp cheek bones and a sucked in mouth. He usually left his thinning black hair to its self and trudged on through life. Why Amanda had chosen him was an amazement he and the rest of society would love to know.

    “Look, if you’re not ready in five minutes then we’re not going and you can explain to Peter why you didn’t go on Monday.” Amanda’s ghost waltzed past the iron frame bed, her dazzling figure shining bright. She had a rosy look about her, red lips and ocean green eyes that sparkled like the stars. Her hair was thick locks of blonde with flecks of brown about it; it was specially curled for tonight. As she swayed along the green silk floor length dress followed her hip movements and trailed along the floor. She was now bent over the old dresser applying more lipstick. She flashed her eyes to James. “Come on then.”
    “I am,” the bony man moved under the bed and through the covers back.

    “Right, shoes, I’ll be right back; I left my stilettos in the kitchen.” She blew him a childish kiss and waltzed off humming happily to her self. He knew that hum well; it was a hum that happened only few times in a woman’s life, she was pregnant. With this fantasy in his mind James stood up. In his mind he could see a half buttoned shirt tucked into black dress trousers. But in the sad reality he was actually in nothing than his pathetic black briefs.

    Finishing him self up he tied a red tie around his neck and slung on the jacket to match the trousers. He then tied on some leather shoes and sat looking at his wedding ring. Nearly one year together, everybody whispered that she was in it for the money, which James Miller did not own. He had a bank balance and what ever he made at office work but that was it. No secret stash anywhere and if there was he had no idea of it.

    “Amanda?” He asked out for her rising up.

    “Just a second,” she replied. “James where’s my purse?” She asked through the walls.

    “Err…He walked through the bedroom door, his hand touching the wood lightly. “Coffee table?” He said taking a guess as to where Amanda had left her little beaded green purse she bought in Paris on their honeymoon. He heard the ghostly clatters of her stilettos on the wood floor. He carried on down the dark hall fixing his black cufflinks she had bought him. “Right are you read-” Walking through the living room he saw her ghost, smiling happy. She had the green stilettos on and held the beaded purse firm him her grip. She smiled again, flashing her eyes at him.

    “Ok?” She asked looking down at herself.

    “Yeah,” he grabbed her green fur shawl and slid it onto her shoulders. But he now stood alone holding nothing in mid air looking at nothing. The once grand old fire place was now a useless wooden thing that had thick smog like layers of dust. She had always loved it as the wall tiles in it were green and the mantle piece was an old railway sleeper. Above it there was an old mirror, only its shape could be seen through the old dust sheet.

    “Well time to face the world,” She moved a step and then stopped. Something beyond the flaking wooden window frame had caught her eye. James had noticed it too; in the tree that stood proud in the gardens of their flat was a black silhouette. Bulk and heavy he sat in tree fixing something together until James knew what it was. He heard a final click and ran to Amanda, she was frozen still. Attempting to push her out the way James heard the crashing of it all. Windows shattered and Amanda looked up to him.

    She became increasingly limp in his hands and fell down with him. “No, no, no.” He sobbed cradling her head. He looked down to her stomach, the green dress was turning a horrible red-brown colour and blood seeped from her mouth.

    “Stu…art….” She was slow on breathing; he removed his jacket and put it around her. “I…Love…You and…Sad Pale Harp.” James looked at her confused.

    “What?” He asked as though she were a child.

    “Remember… Sad Pale Harp…” She took a final intake of breath and looked to him sad.

    “Amanda…”He blubbered quietly. While he did she passed on, leaving her limp beauty of a body there with him. Reality came flooding back and he was alone again, knelt on the floor where she had been laid, he ran his hands through his grease filled hair sobbing. It was now three months on since the night.

    The police had found no evidence, Sad Pale Harp meant nothing to anybody, the press got bored with this sad tale, they and everybody left James alone. He had not eaten for three days as there was nothing left. Condolence cards lay upon a dust sheet covered table unopened. Nobody had passed by the empty flat for weeks, even the six people who lived in the building didn’t even drop by to see him. His boss had left six messages.

    “James, sorry for your loss, take all the time you need.” “James it’s been a couple of days we’re worried, call us.” “Give me a call please James, its rough I know.” “James it’s been a month, are you ok?” “James please…please give me a call.” “Sorry James but I’ve given your job to someone else. It’s been two and a half months now and no word. Sorry.”

    He sat there looking at everything; he had covered most of it in dust sheets or old blankets. Too much reminded him of her. Just as he was about to give up there was a thud at the door. He ignored it, nobody wanted to see him, he wanted to see nobody. This person carried on knocking on the door. Standing up he padded to the bedroom and flung on some un-ironed jeans and a black old top.

    “James Miller?” It was a female voice, light and feminine. He walked to the door and looked through the brass peep-hole. She was punk like, twenty something, baggy jeans with chains. A red and black stripy jumper residing down her pale white skin with her bra straps visible. She had black spiked hair with red flecks in, chocolate brown eyes and shiny little lips with a lip ring on the bottom lip to the left. She knocked again making him jump.

    Opening up he looked out to her and blinked slowly, uninterested of anything she wanted. “May I help you?” He finally asked her.

    “Sarah Apple,” she extended a hand to him. He shook it and invited her in; he didn’t really care if she was here to preach about God, a voice was all he wanted.

    “Please excuse the mess,” James said kicking some clutter out of the way and guiding her into the cottage looking kitchen.

    “It’s fine, a lot neater than my flat.” She smiled trying to break the ice.

    “Please sit,” He showed her a small wooden table with four chairs stacked on top. “Sorry,” he darted over and removed the chairs for her. “Drink?” He asked her walking back to the kitchen.


    “Tea, coffee…” He looked through the cupboards realising he didn’t have any. Slamming it he turned and smiled. “Water?” She grinned a little.

    “Water’s fine thank you.” Removing her black leather knapsack from over her shoulder she took out a small red note pad, biro and an envelope, creased and bulging a little. “I have something that may interest you about your wife’s death.” James clattered with the glasses as he got them out.

    “What?” he asked quickly filling the glasses and walking over.

    “You see I knew some things about Amanda that nobody ever knew, and I believe them to be linked to her death.” James sat amazed at what he was hearing.

    “You mean to say that you have information on Amanda’s death? Why she was murdered?” Sarah nodded quietly. “Why didn’t you come sooner? Bring it to the police when they asked?” James asked annoyed.

    “I didn’t think properly, Amanda’s death hit me quite hard-”

    “Wait, you knew my wife?”

    “Well we were friends, she taught me at college and then we stayed in touch, e-mail and all that.” Sarah took a gulp of the water, politely not noticing the muck around the edges.

    “Oh,” James said looking straight ahead, avoiding eye contact.

    “But I will understand if you do not wish to hear any of it, some of the things I hold are quite…” She trailed off not finishing.


    “Quite distressing if you’re the husband,” Sarah said trying to put it in a way that wasn’t to harsh.

    “I see,” James sighed slouching in his chair a little. “What exactly have you got on my wife then?” He asked looking to the envelope intrigued to its contents.

    “Are you sure?” She asked once more.

    “Yes,” came the reply bluntly. Sarah held the package now firm in her grip, tapping her fingers thinking. She the placed it down on the table and slid it across to his bony fingers. He opened up the unsealed envelope, inspecting it as he went along.

    Inside were four pieces of paper folded over and a bundle of photos. Flicking through them his heart sank to an absolute low so low he was sure there was no heart left. There she was, in simple black and white security photos, holding hands with a burly pug-ugly man, bald and dressed in black. They were in a car park walking to what seemed to be a black large van. As he flicked through them further the burly man opened the back of the van and helped Amanda in. Checking the time at the corner they went in at 4 O’clock and remerged on the other photo at half past six. Two hours they were in there, it didn’t take a genius to figure it out.

    James placed the photos down, sad and depressed; he then picked up the four folded notes. Each done with a black thick marker, one read, HELP the other I’M IN TOO FAR, the next read PLEASE HELP ME and the last was LORD SAVE ME. James looked at them all flicking through them all.

    “What the hell is?” He finally asked. Sarah dropped her biro, she had been drawing as he looked through, taking the better time of half and hour. “Sarah?” He asked holding everything. She sighed chewing on the end of the pen.

    “Right, you have the gist then?” She asked him, James nodded knowing little. “Ok,” she leaned over and spread the photos out across the table. “This isn’t what it looks like, I’ve checked through and if you’re the husband then, oh basically she wasn’t fucking this guy.” Sarah said annoyed about having to tiptoe on eggshells. She found the third photo and shoed him them holding hands. “Find anything odd?” she asked handing it to him.

    “No, they hold hands and walk to the van, simple.” James replied throwing it down. Sarah stood up and bent down picking up her leather bag. She rummage for a while and came back out holding a large black magnifying glass.

    “Look at their hands,” she handed him the glass and he held it to the photo focusing in and out until it jumped out at him.

    “What the hell is that?” He asked pointing to a small loop chain coming out of Amanda’s thick coat and going into the guys black jacket.
    “Exactly, also look at their hands, that’s a forced clasp.” She took his hand; she wrapped her hand around his. “This is not a very common motion now, some still but does Amanda?”

    “No, not really, she was more his new one.” Sarah changed their hands to linked fingers.

    “She really didn’t want to be with him,” Sarah said looking into his eyes. They locked this for a moment.

    “What about the notes?” James asked shaking her off.

    “I don't know, every month a new one would appear at my door, addressed to me, but no stamp or actual address, just my name. I think it was Amanda, but I’m not too sure.” James looked at the photos. His dead wife was chained to a big guy and she had sent letters to a young student. He studied them some more.

    “When did you start getting the notes?” He asked looking up to her holding one in particular; it was just as they got to the van.

    “I’d say December, three weeks before Christmas, yeah because I thought it odd to be getting a card now.” Sarah glanced at him confused. “Why?”

    “If you look at this photo there are three things that tell me that sounds about right.” He held the photo up for her to see. “One, Amanda is wearing her brown thick fur lined coat, if you look at their feet you’ll see them to be wet and finally if you look closely at the big guy he’s breathing making water vapour stuff.” Sarah looked at it and seemed amazed at how he noticed all this. “But what I’d like to know more than anything is how you came about these.” Sarah blushed slightly.

    “Ok, the truth, I used to work for this business, office block down the main street. I was a cleaner so when I empty bins I find useless crap and keep it if it’s valuable, like dead watches or crap people throw away because it’s broken. But I found these photos, but they weren’t bundled and thrown into the bin. They came in an envelope with my name on it, thick writing like the one on the notes.” James slouched back into his chair, twiddling the magnifying glass in his hands. “Then the notes appeared, and then I read she’s dead. So I just put it behind me, try to move on. But recently I felt you should know.”

    Sarah trailed off, she fell silent watching James fidget the glass in his large bony hands. He was breathing deep and was focusing in on nothing; she could see the clocks and gogs ticking painfully in his mind. Slamming down the magnifier he sighed heavily.

    “I need a drink, food, shower and a good night’s sleep.” James stood up, he looked to the dead kitchen, pathetically large living room and though to the huge vast bed in the empty bedroom. “I’ll check into a motel or something shit like that.” He then stood up and plodded off into the living room. “Sounds like a mad idea but would you like something to eat?” Sarah was taken aback.


    “I’m fine if you don't but I haven’t spoken to anybody for a month, nor been outside.” She looked into his dead sunken eyes and nodded.

    “Sure, go on,” Sarah replied enthusiastically as she could.

    “Right,” James walked into his bedroom and got a black posh over the shoulder bag and threw a t-shirt, clean underwear, socks and toiletries. He shook his jeans out a bit and fixed a leather belt to them as all they did was fall down. He grabbed his black blazer and put socks on. Just as he was about to lace his grey trainers up Amanda appeared at the mirrored dresser. Lacing the shoes up, he threw a blanket over her and shook his head in disbelief.

    “Spruce up nice don't you?” Sarah asked picking at her black nails standing by the door.

    “I still need a shower though.”

    “I’ll stay upwind then shall I?” Sarah asked as they walked out of the flat into the small porch. He keyed in a code to the elevator and it pinged open. Stepping in she laughed some what.

    “What’s so funny?” He asked as she held it in, turning red.

    “The fact that you really smell bad and I’m stuck in a small space with you.” She sniggered and he puffed a little bit of air.

    Walking along the main street of town made James feel happier, he was outside, the sun stung his eyes a bit but nothing that looking at Sarah wouldn’t cure. She was a beautiful woman, different to Amanda. Sarah was simple in her beauty; she didn’t wear excess amounts of make up or totter about in skimpy dresses and heels. She wore sneakers and punk sort clothes.

    “Ok, McDonalds or Pizza?” James asked as they came to the junction.

    “Lucky I don't care about my hips, pizza.” Sarah replied. James laughed as Amanda would have thrown a fit and made them trail until they could find a salad bar or something crap like that that made him feel sick. They walked on until the small pizzeria came into sight.

    Stepping in it was like being transported, you felt like you were in Italy straight away. From the reds and greens to the fat moustached Italian in the back screaming about, it was just like Italy.

    “Good evening, may I take you coa-“The woman stopped in mid sentence, noticing who she was talking to. Even in the dim light of the red candles James’s sunken eyes could be seen.

    “Table for two, away from everybody if you please.” Sarah said proudly, glancing to James’s scared and sullen eyes. The woman nodded and thrust the red leather menus into their hands guiding them along into the back. “Thank you, we’ll grab your attention when we’re ready.” The woman, still gaping nodded again and tottered off to tell every person in the place.

    “I don't feel comfortable, here; I’ll leave my part and be on my way.” James placed forty pounds on the table and began to get up. Sarah heaved him back down and gave him the money with the menu.

    “You’re eating with me understood?” She asked looking though she was going to kill him if he didn’t sit down with her. She then looked through the menu and twisted her little mouth playfully, thinking. It took James a while to figure out what he wanted. “Pizza? Spaghetti? Something Italian?” Sarah asked after a while.

    “What are you having?”

    “Chicken spicy pizza and a beer.” Sarah replied still looking at the menu. James looked on and nodded.

    “Same then,” he finally said much to Sarah’s annoyed look. She smiled and snapped her fingers towards the woman. James hid behind the menu as she ordered very snob like.

    “yes Miss, we would like a spicy chicken pizza and two beverages in the form of beer.” The woman did not look to happy as she scribbled down the notes.

    “Thank you for ordering,” she smiled her thick red lipstick smile and trotted off head in the air and butt wiggling on.

    “How can you do that?” James blurted out through a laugh.

    “Comes naturally, sticking up for myself.” Sarah slouched in her chair, arm over it elbow sticking out far.

    “I’ve always caved under pressure, that many eyes on me. If you weren’t here I probably wouldn’t have even got as far as the bar.” He sighed. “Guess that’s life’s torment. Shoot me in the foot fantastic.” Their beers came and their talking went on through and through just about movies, jokes and the sad things life brings.

    As their pizza came James was enjoying himself. He ate as though he hadn’t for three years, never mind three days. Sarah didn’t mind, she enjoyed his sad and pathetic company in good way. As they ate the place emptied out, it was now dark out; James checked his watch, nine O’clock.

    “Thought anymore on it?” Sarah asked finishing her third piece, drowning it with the beer.

    “It’s all I can think about. I’m trying to piece it all together. I mean Amanda worked at an office as a secretary, probably where you used to work, so that’s where you and her link further. I keep on thinking about the police too, if I took this to them would they help me?” James finished his fifth piece wiping his hands on a napkin.

    “True, I mean I never saw her but it is possible. There’s only to office blocks so fifty-fifty.” Sarah shrugged her shoulder making the jumper slip a little further down. “As for the police, they’d take it and never get round to it. Having to dig up old files, pointless for them.”

    “I know, but none of this is making any sense, this is Amanda, mousy Amanda.  She didn’t even hurt a fly, unless it bugged her.”

    “Exactly, what if somebody was that fly? What if somebody was bugging her? So much so that she…” Sarah squished the table cloth with her thumb like a fly. James’s stomach groaned with fear. “Look at the facts will you? Those photos, the notes and the creepy murder in the tree, not an average life is it?” Sarah asked, tucking her knee up to her chest and drinking the last of the beer.

    “What can I do about this?” James held his head in his hands, running his fingers through his hair. He then got up; throwing two twenties down on the table he quickly walked out. Not bothered if Sarah followed him or not. She watched him walk out of the door, sitting there she twitched her nose and then stormed after him, bashing into the woman as she held a plate of drinks. Hearing the angry voices and crashing Sarah stuck a finger up at them and checked the name of the restaurant; another she was never to back to.

    James was walking slower than normal, thoughts ticking over. He went into a nearby newsagent and bought a pack of cigarettes. Lighting up he sat on a bin smoking. “Sorry Amanda,” he said breathing the thick toxic air out. She had always hated smoking, drugs and anything like that. All an act no doubt, James thought to himself. She was this sweet and innocent for him but anybody else she was a hell bitch.

    “James,” Sarah had caught up to him. She was panting a little but strolled over calmly, aware her face was red as a tomato.

    “She always hated me smoking, old habits die hard I suppose.” James thought aloud to Sarah. “Sorry, I’ll stub it,” he went to stub the cigarette on the bin when Sarah took it from his fingers and took in the smoke her self.

    “I’m not Amanda,” she breathed out the smoggy air. He lit up another and they both just smoked on, he was on the bin while she leaned against its cold black frame. “Well, you want to back to mine? It’s a half a mile before we get to a cheap but nice hotel. And I have no idea where your flat is.” James knew perfectly well where his flat was, he finished the cigarette and stubbed it on the bin.

    “Yeah me neither.” Jumping off the bin he realised he had never had a woman that came up to his neck, Amanda was small but she lived in heels, Sarah had to actually look up to his five foot eight frame. Smiling they walked, he was following her as she tried to remember where she lived in the dark.

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