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Bonus Writing Prompts

Writing Prompt “The Trunk”

Theme: First Line Prompt.

Your story must begin with the following 27 words:

She lifted the hood of the trunk, bracing herself for the horror that would come. Her face turned white as his voice whispered: "Just let me explain..."

Word Count: 1,227 (the required 27 words plus up to 1200 of your own words.)

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28 thoughts on “Writing Prompt “The Trunk”

  • robtemmett
    Checking in.
  • So the story must be exactly 1227 words? I am neck-deep into my novel (60000 and counting!) with 3 weeks left to go before my first draft is due to be finished so I likely won’t have time to write a story here but will hopefully have time to read and vote! Love the prompt!
    • Carrie Zylka

      lol no, I should probably clarify….it just can’t be more than 1200 of your own words!

  • It’s about a masked elephant?
    Scary too. Hmm, some kind of wildlife reservation gothic, perhaps.

    – Confused Brit.

    • Hahahahaha. You must be psychic Andy. I was planning to write a story about a dentist who gets a call from an elephant trainer.

      ‘Just let me explain…”

      “I think this old pachyderm’s got an abscess, and will probably need a root canal.”

      Her darkest fears were confirmed. “Noooooooooooooo.”

      • “Wow, this elephant’s tooth has the largest cavity I’ve ever seen …. (~ largest cavity I’ve ever seen ~ ……. ~ I’ve ever seen ~…. ~ ever seen ~ …) …”
  • The Trunk: The Mystery of the Magic Mirror
    She lifted the hood of the trunk, bracing herself for the horror that would come. Her face turned white as his voice whispered,” Just let me explain”
    “You,Parker! Not again!” she barked, colour slowly coming back to her face. She then made a gesture of letting the hood fall back on the trunk.
    “No, Patricia, please don’t. Have a listen first.” There was a small cut on his forehead with blood oozing out. He continued, “ But before that, will you push the hood back low enough for me to get out? I’m hurting all over.”
    “Parker, no more games, OK?” she heard herself threatening him in mock annoyance.
    He finally came out from the monstrous trunk,wiping the blood with the back of his hand, gently rubbing the back of his head with his left hand over a bump, the size of a potato.

    Half an hour later, they sat on the opposite chairs across the table in Jimmy’s Kitchen.
    “So, you’re trying to tell me that whoever hit you from behind,must have drugged you at the same time before pushing you into the trunk?” Patricia continued.
    “Most probably. Now, why don’t you fill me in on what I might have missed out about the magic mirror so far?”
    “The mirror was stolen from Hazarduari, the palace with a thousand doors of the former Nawab of Bengal. Whether someone was the Nawab’s friend or foe, made to stand before the mirror, the Nawab would surely know. The mirror would give some tale-tell signals.”
    “ Cut out the crap, Patricia,” Parker put down his empty cup, looking spent.
    “No, that’s how it goes. It was quite expensive. Once the Nawab, Sija-ud-Daulah or something, while necking his begum, brought her deliberately before the mirror on the wall. When she broke into a smile, the Nawab felt that she looked like a bewitching witch in the mirror. The Begum was found dead on her bed the next morning under mysterious circumstances!”
    “So you’re trying to tell me that this magical marvel of the Nawab got stolen,shipped to our country for the London Museum? But it evaporated into thin air on the way, or so it would appear. How did you know I’d be here in Lady Diana Square?”
    “My lead again. She, I mean, he told me that he’d seen this huge trunk being taken out of a van and pushed into the lift on the right wing of the tower. It was the sheer size of the trunk that made him curious. The men who carried the trunk, had a stealthy look about them, as if they were expecting trouble sometime soon. The scar around the left eye of the shorter of the two, also didn’t escape his notice.” Patricia explained.
    “Let me check out from the net if anyone answers to that Scarry bit,“ Parker exclaimed while asking for the bill.

    It was at around 9 when Patricia received his call. “We seem to be in luck. A notorious drugs dealer called David, caught red handed last month, may be our man. He was arrested for illegal possession of narcotics. I’ve already talked to Detective Martin. Wanna come with me?”
    “No, tomorrow. At 3, meet me near the gate. Gotcha?”

    The meeting with David in the cell proved less strenuous than they had anticipated. It transpired that David did transport the trunk to 38 Tower as per the order of a client along with some drugs, but he couldn’t tell what was there in the trunk or who paid the bill. He remembered having picked it up from the station.

    When you are in luck, things are handed to you on a platter. Parker saw this advert in a corner of The Evening Telegraph about a mirror to be sold at a price less than the original. Parker called Patricia in case she would like to join them in quest of the missing,magic mirror. The owner of the antique shop, one Alicia Petronova, ran inside the store and was back in a flash, shoving it across the counter without so much as a fuss. Her vivid recollection of the seller, the photos of the most notorious criminals in the IT section, led to the subsequent arrest of Ibrahim, the prime suspect with a history of criminal records. The Interpol had sounded the warning bell for him long ago with offers of rewards.

    “So it’s Ibrahim, who had the Magic Mirror stolen from the port before it could reach its destination. He had it despatched to Room 18, rented under a false name. After you stumbled upon the trunk the day Ibrahim wanted to sell it to a foreign buyer, he asked his partner, Dilli Ram, to finish you off. The goon hit you with a vase on the back of your head while you nearly got your hand on the mirror, drugged you with some inhaler from behind, and had you trunked in. The mirror couldn’t be sold to the foreign buyer as they expected trouble. Ibrahim felt the need of getting rid of the mirror at the earliest. He decided to sell it to the antique dealer. His plan was to pick it up from the dealer at a higher price, later. If it got sold somehow, the buyer would be easy to trace..
    All thanks to you, Ms. Murray, Private Detective Parker got rescued, and you know what happened after that. We’re also obliged to both of you for the recovery of a very rare and precious artwork. We’re trying to send it back to the Meusum at the earliest. Despite your reluctance, your contributions will be noted down.”
    “Inspector Martin, may I ask for a favour?”
    “You want to have a look at the mirror, right?” Inspector Lawrence countered without any preamble.
    “Yea. If it’s OK with you,” Patricia replied.
    The inspector led them through a back door into a small cabin. Parker whispered from behind into Patricia’s ear,” You haven’t told me the name of your lead yet.”
    Patricia smiled,” Some one close to you.”
    “O, I got it. My sister, Pommy,” Parker grinned. “But how did she spy on them, I mean, the trunk and Ibrahim?”
    “She was in the opposite room for maintenance. She saw through the keyhole. It was a holiday and no one was anywhere nearby.
    Entering the lost ceilinged cabin, they found there wrapped in color papers with ribbons tied with a plastic red rose in the centre, was the curio, the Magic Mirror. Patrick could feel Patricia getting tensed up standing next to him. Inspector Martin, after unwrapping and throwing the ribbons, held it up in front of him for her to look in. In the fading light of the room, as she shot a look at her reflection in the silvery glass with exquisite wooden curves all around the rectangular frame, she couldn’t help uttering: Amazing!
    Parker bent down to pick up the plastic rose in between the Inspector and Patricia. And as he did so, for a brief, very brief while, Patricia had an uncanny feeling of seeing in the mirror their reflections, of Parker kneeling down on one, with the most beautiful red rose she had seen in his hand!!
    The End.
    (1213 Words)

  • Ilana L
    Interesting. Been so busy and such good prompts. I am about to be a grandmother again five times over so…
    • Congratulations, Ilana.
      I took a wine and cheese tour last week and met a group of goats. They’re very intriguing animals. Couldn’t help but think of you.
      • Ilana L
        LOL I hope they had a bit of colour. I like the black and whites and the Black and Tans. White goats ate boring!
  • LA73
    By Lisa Cowan

    She lifted the hood of the trunk, bracing herself for the horror that would come. Her face turned white as his voice whispered: “Just let me explain…”

    The contents of the trunk revealed a truth that Charlie refused to face. She slumped down on the gravel driveway, legs stretched out straight, leaning her head against the bumper.

    “I am so sorry. I tried, I really did,”
    said Brett

    “I made an irreversible mistake,” Charlie choked out, finding it too difficult to breathe.

    Charlie had always battled feelings of insecurity and inferiority. Most times, she was able to push the emotions deep down inside but occasionally acted irrationally based on her feelings. Never had she made a decision such as this with such severe consequences.

    When she realized what she had done she jumped in the car circling the neighborhood high on the hill. She wept when none of the houses looked familiar. With determination, Charlie pulled the car over and got out and walked. Her eyes were so swollen she could barely see and the terror of never being with her little girl again made her heavy heart shatter in a million heavier pieces.
    What made her think that her daughter, her baby girl would be better off with someone else?

    She was freshly separated from a dead beat and without a clue of how to hold anything together. She had two jobs which she had an intense hatred for both. Working all the time made her feel absent and discouraged because she still couldn’t make ends meet. She didn’t know how much more she had left to give. Exhaustion, desperation, frustration and now regret had taken over.

    She glanced up at a beautiful, happy looking home with a manicured lawn and an enormous playscape in the backyard that could be seen from the street. “This is so much more than I can give her,” Charlie thought trying to muster enough courage to climb the steps and ring the bell.
    A slim, attractive woman, barefoot in running pants and a racerback tank opened the door.
    “Hi,” the woman greeted Charlie from the simple yet elegantly decorated entrance way as if she had been expecting her. There, peeking out from behind the woman’s legs was Charlie’s little girl. Charlie wanted to reach down and scoop her up. She wanted to hug her and perhaps take off running. The little one smiled at Charlie but didn’t seem to recognize her. Charlie felt an incredible sadness. The little girl ran off playfully, Charlie noticing the whole time how happy she was.
    Charlie pleaded with the woman to let her have her daughter back and told her that she realized that she made the worst mistake. The woman seemed cheerfully unsympathetic. She had a very light and matter of fact way about her. She explained that they were all very happy together as a family and that Charlie could not take the little girl that they had grown to love away from them. Charlie wondered how this woman could remain so upbeat while her initial welcoming demeanor was turning into the most unwelcoming vibe.
    Charlie tried to recall if there had been any clauses in any contracts that may give her the legal right to regain custody but there had been no contracts, no legalities involved. A kind family, who wanted a child, helped out a struggling mom at the end of her rope. That was all it was, simple as that. All Charlie knew was that the thought of not being with her little girl was unbearable but tearing her away from this family that she obviously loved created a painful war inside of her. She was being selfish. Maybe being with her was not in her daughters best interest. Charlie was falling apart after all. The family that had her daughter had it all together. Maybe being with them was what was best for her. Thinking this way made Charlie sick inside.
    She needed to talk to Brett. Brett was the most level headed person she knew. He could help her come up with a rational plan, a plan that wouldn’t get her arrested for kidnapping. She should have consulted him from the beginning. He alway had the ability to smooth over the toughest of situations. She valued this quality of his, especially when it came to maintaining their friendship.
    Brett would go and talk to these people. He would make them understand that Charlie is a great mom who made a terrible mistake. Brett would make them give Charlie her daughter.

    “I don’t know what else to say, they wouldn’t budge,” reported Brett.

    Charlie looked inside the trunk which held a toddler car seat and the little girls favorite, fuzzy white blanket with satin trim. A hopeless dread filled her and not being able to hold herself up, she slid down the car until she was sitting legs stretched out in front.

    “I wanted her to at least have her blanket, she can’t sleep without it,” Charlie could barely speak.

    “They said they’re fine without it,” said Brett.

    The hood of the trunk slammed shut startlingly Charlie. She opened her eyes to see she was in the playroom, propped up against the toy chest.

    “Did that scare you, Mommy?” Olivia giggled lifting the door on the chest back open.

    Charlie hugged Olivia, who wriggled trying to get free. Charlie didn’t want to let go.

    Brett was in the other room on the phone with his business partner.
    “I just wanted to fill you in, see you tomorrow,” Brett said wrapping up the conversation.

  • Roy York
    Checking in so I can get all the comments and stories. Almost forgot about this one. Will catch up later.
  • robtemmett
    by Robt. Emmett ©2018

    She lifted the hood of the trunk, bracing herself for the horror that would come. Her face turned white as his voice whispered: “Just let me explain….”

    That was fifty-five years, two months, and seven days ago. And things have only gotten worse.

    Worse, you ask, worse how?

    We had it all planed out. It was going to be a fun filled exciting day. Bob and Carter were going steady with Kat and Ely, so of course, they would be joining us for the festivities. Bill and Kenny would be coming in from Beaver Lake. They had asked the teaser twins to be their dates. Big surprise – the girls accepted; women, go figure.

    I’d asked Cookie. I had a good reason for wanting her with me. I had a special question to ask her. I was almost positive she would say, yes. I’d done the three things she’d asked of me.
    I had a job. It paid well, had great advancement opportunities, and job security; what’s more stable than a government job?

    She insisted I have a car more like normal people do. I sold my dragstrip queen. With the money, I bought a low mileage, three-year old ’59 Chevy. My next-door neighbor, according to her daughter, was, getting to old to drive. She cut me a great deal, if I promised to take her mother to church every now and again. The car had class. It was a jet-black Chevy four-door hardtop Impala with a red interior.

    The last item on which she insisted was the hardest, a bank account. Well that’s another story. I could never accumulate money. I told her it was because I spent my paychecks on her, which was true – mostly. I lived a day at a time.

    She, on the other hand, planned. She plotted out her future with the skill of a great general.
    We all met in late afternoon near the recreation center located half way down Minnesota Point, at a place called Park Point. All that remains of the amusement park is the weedy, over grown parking lot. There were a few other people there at first, but it wasn’t crowded. We built a small bonfire on the shore. The girls broke out the graham crackers, Hersey chocolate bars, and marshmallows and we took turns making S’mores. We washed them down with Fitger’s beer. As darkness descended, crowds gathered on the minimal stripe of sand beach. The once deserted parking lot filled to overflowing. Cars had to park on the access road and in the grass. I hadn’t quite popped the question, but her replies to my hints built my confidence; I was positive she would say yes.

    The western sky partially stripped with streaks of golden orange clouds suddenly exploded in a red, white, and blue starburst. We drank a toast. More bursts followed. The harbor’s calm water reflected the fireworks of every color exploding in the sky. The multiple concussions reverberated off the water. We partied on. I was enjoying myself too much and passed out.

    I awoke … alone and cold. If I knew what the bottom of a birdcage tasted like, I think that’s what my mouth tasted like; sandy, dry, and shitty. Standing – sorta, I stumbled toward the water’s edge. Something tripped me and I did a face-plant in the water of the harbor. No matter, it was wet and revitalizing. I checked my pockets. My wallet was in place, but my car keys were missing. Cookie had left me to ride shanks-mare. Oh well, the car was safe in her driveway. I’d hook a ride to her place from someone.

    Refreshed – sorta, I looked to see what caused me to stumble. It was the corner of a small trunk mostly buried in the sand. What was in the box? I wondered. Visions of a brass lamp, and a genie popped into my head, in a gilded turban, red vest, and baggy green pants. Then I had another vision; Barbara Eden from the TV show I dream of Jeannie. Or the box might contain a map to some long buried treasure on some desert island. However, with my luck, it would be a note about an overdue car loan with my name on it.

    After pulling the ironbound wooden trunk from the sand, I turned it over. The hasp held the hood shut by a small rusty nail through the loop. I twisted the nail a few times and it broke. I opened it up and much to my surprise – I discovered a … right before my eyes. I picked it up and ran to town as happy as a king.

    I now had the means to fulfill the third item on her list. I should get more than a few bucks for this if I play my cards right. I took it to old man Fox. I knew he’d buy ’most anything. Every time I’d brought him something I thought was worthless, he’d always given more than I’d hoped for.

    Ready to deal and dicker if I had to, I walked up Lake Avenue to Second Street. Old Fox loved to dicker as much as much as I did. His store was in between Lake Avenue and First Avenue East. The bell over the door tinkled as I shoved the door open. He squinted at me, shoved his wire-rim spectacle onto his forehead, and hollered at me as I walked into his shop, “Oy gevalt! Get out of here with that … before I call a cop!”

    I was in shock. “But Fox,” I said, “I….”

    He grabbed the phone. I turned around and ran. Yes, I was a-running for my life. I don’t know what his problem was, but I realized the trunk might not be as valuable as I’d first hoped.

    I’ll take it to my long-time girlfriend, Cookie. She’d appreciated my find. Better yet, she’d know what to do with it. I took the trunk to her house up in Duluth Heights. She lifted the hood of the trunk, bracing herself. Her face turned white, her voice snarky as she yelled, “Get out of here with that … and don’t come back no more – ever!”

    There were people in the part of town called the bowery who were desperate; they’d take any kind of handout. I’d give the small trunk to the first bum looking for a handout. I found him in doorway off Michigan Street. He said he’d take ‘most any old thing. He was a desperate man. But when I showed him the … he staggered upright, turned around, and ran.

    I wandered on for many years. I was a victim of my fate. Now I’m facing Saint Peter at the Gate and I tried to take the trunk inside. He called God over to look.

    She lifted the hood of the trunk, Her face turned white.

    I whispered, “Just let me explain….”

    She looked at me, “Get out of here with that boom, boom-boom, and take it down below!”

    The moral of this story is if you’re out on the beach and you should see a trunk and it’s within your reach. Don’t ever stop and open it up, because you’ll never get rid of the…, no matter what you do.
    – Ԙ –

  • RM York
    Two different halves of stories. Like the first one, but the second half is an old song with a new take. Your writing is getting crisper and crisper, Robert, and I’d really like to see you take a chance on something new, and not a reminder from the past. Just to see where your mind is.
  • Roy York

    She lifted the hood of the trunk, bracing herself for the horror that would come. Her face turned white as his voice whispered: “Just let me explain …”

    A small blood covered hand was all that was visible from under the crumpled blanket hiding what appeared to be the body of a child. The whispered words tore through her mind like a sharp knife as she gazed at the scene in front of her. ‘Again,’ she thought? ‘But he promised.’

    She held her composure, knowing the man who had whispered those words was capable of anything. She knew it well because she had been married to him for twenty-eight years. During those years she had been exposed to bone chilling atrocities by his hand every year.

    “Gil, how could you? A small child? You’ve never done anything like this before. Oh my God. I don’t think I can take this. And the trunk. How are we going to clean this up?”

    “Not so loud. Do you want someone to hear you? Don’t make a big deal out of this,” the voice whispered again. “I will take care of it.”

    “Like everything else you’ve promised to take care of since our marriage began? Every year we go through this. You always promise it will be the last time. That there wouldn’t be this kind of horror again.” She whirled to face him. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out about this? I always do, you know.”

    “I wasn’t hiding this from you, my dear, I am hiding this from the neighbors for now. You know how they are. All the secrets, gossip and innuendo; constantly calling the police and not allowing their children near our house.”

    “Why do you do this to me? Each time it escalates, and then you promise you’ll never do it again. But I begin to see the signs. Covert trips to the garage in the evenings. The digging in the side garden at all hours of the night, sneaking in and washing up, then when I see the dirt and mess, telling me you were moving the rose bushes.”

    Elena closed her fists as if she were about to hit him. “You make me so mad. And then there’s always the visits from the police department. You ask me to help, and I always do. Well not this time, Gil. Not this time. I won’t help you do this.” She balled her fists and started pummeling his chest.

    “Hey, whoa. Don’t go all psycho on me.” He held her at arms length. His face brightened. “Psycho. What a great idea. Why haven’t I thought of that? Oh yeah, thank you.” He slammed the trunk lid shut and ran around to the front of the car, pulled open the door and hopped behind the wheel.

    “Gilbert! Where are you going?”

    “It’s all your fault,” he said. “There will be so much mayhem and death when I’m done, the neighborhood will go crazy.”

    “What are you talking about? Where are you going?”

    “Back to the store for more stuff. This is going to be the best Halloween display ever.”

  • sandra woolf
    She lifted the hood of the trunk, bracing herself for the horror that would come. Her face turned white as his voice whispered: “Just let me explain.” She turned on her husband with a fury that came out of a deep dark pit inside her.
    “What the bloody hell happened?” she said in a steely cold voice. “It’s ruined!”
    They both looked back into the trunk of his car at the chocolate and white mess that once had been their daughter’s beautiful three tiered wedding cake.
    “You had better have a damn good explanation. This is beyond repair Rob, what are we going to do? Our only daughter’s wedding is tomorrow and 100 people are expecting a wedding cake.”
    “I’m sorry, really sorry. I don’t know what else to say. Can’t you kinda fix it a bit, you know, smooth out the icing, put something over the big dent in the middle. People will never notice.”
    She looked at him like he had lost his mind. “Put something over the dent? The whole cake is caved in. Really Robert, I cannot believe you are that stupid.”
    “You only call me Robert when you’re really angry, are you really that angry?”
    “Oh yes Robert, I really am that angry. What did you expect? Did you really think I wouldn’t notice our daughter’s wedding cake was destroyed?”
    She looked again into the trunk of his yellow, two seater, 2017 Ford Mustang GT convertible. She was sick to death of hearing him describe the damn car that way. When anyone asked what he bought for his 50th birthday he always told everyone, “a yellow, two seater, 2017 Ford Mustang GT, convertible” And don’t even get him started on what was under the hood.
    “It wouldn’t fit on the back seat of the car, see, so I thought it would be better in the trunk.”
    “Why didn’t you have them deliver it to the hall like I asked you? The delivery was part of the horrendous cost of this thing.”
    “Cause you said you needed it there by 5:00 and they bakery closed at 3:00 today. They had some kind of family emergency and called me on my cell to come pick it up.”
    “You mean you’ve been driving around with our daughters wedding cake in the trunk for two hours. OH MY GOD!! You really are totally insane”
    She started to stomp up and down the driveway, not knowing exactly how to vent her anger. An innocent garbage can just happened to be sitting there and was the object of her vicious kick.
    “Honey, please let me explain. You know I had to pick up my tux. You explicitly told me not to forget to do that, and I didn’t. You should be happy about that.”
    “Robert, you are not a child, why would I be happy that you finally remembered to do something I asked you to do? Jeez louise, you are the most frustrating man I have ever know. But go on please, I can’t wait to hear the rest of your excuse.”
    “Okay, so after I picked up my tux I went for a quick drink with Jake at the sports bar. He’s in a bad way you know. His wife Stacy left him two days ago, right out of the blue. He’s devastated. The poor guy doesn’t know what to do. So I thought I would try and cheer him up a bit.”
    “Why the hell would you be concerned with Jake a day before our daughter’s wedding. You know how much I have left to do. You said you would help with the running around, instead you go for a drink with him?”
    “I thought, just one drink, then I would go. So I start telling Jake about the wedding. You know he always had a soft place in his heart for Lana. By the way, can we send him an invitation, he says he didn’t get one.”
    “No we can’t send him an invitation Robert, the wedding is tomorrow you idiot. But go on, I can’t wait to hear the rest.”
    “Oh, okay, so then I tells him I have the wedding cake in the trunk and would he like to see it. I kinda thought it would cheer him up a bit. He had been drinking ever since she left him and was really feeling sorry for himself. But in my defense I really didn’t think he was that drunk. You know maybe a little tipsy, but definitely not drunk.”
    “So you take a man, who was “a little tipsy”as you say, ignoring the fact that he had been drinking most of the last two days, out to your car to show him a wedding cake. Of course, only you would of done such an asinine thing.”
    “I thought it was a great idea at the time. Then when I opened the trunk I forgot the cake was inside the box, so he couldn’t see it. So I lifted the lid, and he started to bend over to take a closer look, and..and..”
    “And what Robert?”
    “And that’s when he overbalanced and fell into the cake. Face first, before I could catch him. But he says the icing tastes good, he thinks its ganache, his favorite type of chocolate icing.
    • Roy York
      The sign of a really good writer is to come up with something no one else is conceiving, and then, delivering. Good job. I’m just glad he didn’t throw up into the cake.

      Nice story Sandra, and well done. Nothing too much in the way of criticism. Your dialogue is excellent and a big plus – believable – almost to the point of you having been involved in something similar. You have to be married, as there are too many references on your part to dialogue I have heard from my wife of 53 years. If not, then you did even better than I thought. I thoroughly enjoyed the story.

      • sandra woolf
        Thanks so much Roy, your comments mean a lot to me. I have been struggling with dialogue for a while, but that piece just flowed out. Yes, married a long time. lol
        • Roy York
          Write what you know.
  • Hang tight all, I’m working on the voting page now and will have it up shortly!
    • Houston, we have a problem. there are five (5) voting spaces, but only four *4) voteable stories.
      • Carrie Zylka

        I know. I’m just disregarding the 5th vote when I tally.
        Shouldn’t be a big deal.

        I wish we could’ve had 6 to even it out.
        I maybe should have extended it!

  • Carrie Zylka

    (Just for fun)
    Girl by Carrie Zylka
    564 Words

    She lifted the hood of the trunk, bracing herself for the horror that would come. Her face turned white as his voice whispered: “Just let me explain…”

    The child’s face stared up at her, lips pulled back in a feral grimace, eyes milky white. They tracked left to right, up and down as if they could see. But Lisa knew it wasn’t so. She knew the victims lost their eyesight once the virus ran its course.

    The little girl snarled and gnashed her teeth. Trying to bite the air around it, it’s brain devoid of all thought except the primal need to feed.

    “You’re supposed to kill them.” Lisa whispered, horrified. She looked at the blood spattered across the inside of the trunk and shuddered.

    “But listen Lisa, this is the first one her age. The first young child to be infected. What’s changed? Has the virus mutated? What’s changed??”

    Lisa turned to him, deadly calm. “I do not give a fuck. You are an asshole for bring it here.”

    Roy’s eyes softened realizing the child was probably the same age as Lisa’s daughter would have been. If she hadn’t been eaten alive by a pack of mutated humans that is. “No, not an asshole, just a man trying to help find a cure for the most awful thing that’s ever happened to him. That new virologist is here, what’s his name? Rathin? I think that’s what it was. People were saying he was close to a cure. Maybe this child can help provide samples. I don’t know…”

    Lisa shifted the gun to her other shoulder and hauled open the gate. She lifted the 2-way radio to her mouth.

    “Come in Robert, over.”

    A crackly voice answered. “I’m here, what’s up? Over.”

    “We need some…containment…assistance at the north gate. Can you come here? Over.”

    A pause. “Containment? Over.”

    “Yes, as in a crate strong enough to hold a rabid dog. Over.”

    “On my way. Over.”

    A short while later Robert arrived in a muddy jeep, Sandra driving white knuckled as always. They both hopped out and she went to lower the gate in the back of the vehicle.

    Robert whistled as he spied the cargo in the trunk. “Are you nuts man?”

    Roy shook his head. “Nope, not nuts. Hopeful maybe, idealistic maybe, but not nuts.”

    Robert motioned for him to grab the child’s arms, even though it was tied up, it squirmed and thrashed and the two men had a terrible time trying to secure it.

    “This isn’t going to work.” Sandra muttered. “Maybe we should see if the doc can come here and even make sure this thing is useful.”

    Lisa nodded. “Stay here, watch the gate. I’ll go get him.” She handed the rifle to Roy.

    A short time later Lisa returned with Dr Rathin in tow. “I heard you may have a specimen for me.” He said peering into the trunk. His eyes widened. “She’s so young! The youngest one I’ve ever heard of! The children have all been immune, this is a first!”

    “Do you need her in the compound Doc?” Robert asked.

    Rathin looked at him. “Yes, I’ll take my samples and perhaps her young immune system will be able to aid me in finding a cure. Perhaps the youngest will also be the first to be cured.”

    Roy closed his eyes and prayed this to be true.

    • 1. There are 5 voting slots and there are 5 stories and one of them is mine. How do i handle that?
      2. I voted any way is it there?

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