Excerpt of Torn

Hello readers,

I want to share a small piece of my story with you.

In the past, I had posted too much of a previous work which I found through my time at SNHU, may have been overkill.

With that said, here is a small but exciting piece from Torn.

Enjoy and have a blessed day.

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September 13th

On the outskirts of town, police surround a rundown motel. Cracks in the windows and siding. Splotches of worn paint and residue color the doors and exterior walls. Inside a hulking black man sits in a wooden chair in front of a cracked window hidden behind pea green stained curtains. Blotches of booze, urine, vomit and other unknown substances stain the worn and hard carpeting and moisten the air around him. His hands fold together and rest on a rusted heater under the window. Empty, soulless eyes stare through a small opening in the window.

“Come and get me, boys.”

As if they could hear him inviting them in, the cops rush inside with their guns raised for action.

“Gene Carter. You’re under arrest for the murder of Rose Carter and the attempted murder of Lucille Carter,” A short, stocky man in a tweed suit tells him, his gun still raised.

The man doesn’t resist. He gets up from the chair and places his hands behind him. Two officers’ approach him on either side while the man in the tweed suit puts handcuffs on him, and they escort him out of the room and into one of the police cruisers.

September 27th

In a dark cell no bigger than a cubicle with a small barred window set in stone near the ceiling, there is a metal cot with a worn mattress. On the bed, there is a tall man with long jet-black hair his pale face to the ceiling above.

Caw. Caw.

The sound startles him. He sits up, turns toward the sound, and sees a red-eyed raven perched on the sill. It glares at him.

“What the #$*&?”

Caw. Caw.

“I’ve got to be dreaming,” he says before lying back onto the cot.

Caw. Caw.

“Shut up, you stupid bird!”

“Why the #$*& am I talking to a #$*& bird even if it is real?”

Caw. Caw.

Frustration boils inside of him. He throws his only pillow hoping that it will knock the annoying thing out.

Silence.

“Finally,” the man says as he closes his eyes.

The raven lands on his chest.

Caw. Caw.

“What the…” the man begins to say but stops when he notices a small piece of paper in the bird’s mouth.

He carefully takes the paper out of its mouth, unrolls it, and the crow disappears.

“What the #$*&! This $#&* is like the #$*&%@ twilight zone,” he says throwing the paper down onto the floor.

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