Impromptu writing session with the letter V. I was given 10 random V words, and 2 hours to come up with something. This is what I wrote. All the V words given will be capitalized.
In a hot and sticky motel room, a man lays on the bed staring at a blank TV screen. He lights up a cigarette and smokes it as if it’s his last. His face dripping sweat, beading on top of his 5 o’clock shadow at half past 9. It’s a muggy night, and the ceiling fan pulsates over top of him, but does nothing to cool the room. The sound of it, each time it spins around, acts as a timer for Tom. He knows the call is coming. Tom ashes right onto the motel floor; he doesn’t give a shit. He’s been a zombie, a living VAMPIRE for years now. Death no longer scares him. He is death.
He pulls out a little notebook and begins to write down a few words. Right underneath his last journal entry called “Femme Fatale” He writes the title “VALOUR”
“I chose darkness over light. Cold instead of warmth, yet it feels like hell. I am that mad man amongst mad men. It wasn’t always like this, but the trials and tortures of my existence, both in life and racked in my mind, have led me to a crossroad, that feels more like a cliff. Is there anything further down from this hell? If I jump, do I die? And if I don’t do anything, do I still fall, and eternally drown in a sea filled of my own regrets? This is the choice I make tonight. I choose her.”
Tom takes another puff of his cigarette and the phone rings. He picks it up after the second ring. He doesn’t even say hello. Faint words, but words of his fate don’t phase him. He puts the phone down, and drop the cigarette on the floor. Extinguishing it with his shoe. He opens the night side table and touches the bible and shuts his eyes, then slams the drawer shut. He walks towards the dresser that has a box on top of it. He opens the box and rustles through it. It has bundles of cash inside. He takes a gun from his jacket and places it in the box, careful to empty the bullets from it first. The box is wooden lined with VELVET. He covers the box with paper, taping it up and writing down an address on top.
Tom walks out of the motel, and sees a red post box. He walks over, takes a look around to make sure no one is watching and slides it in. Tom continues to walk down the street. Time to meet his maker. The city sights and sounds were dizzying, as he squints and lights another cigarette. Maybe this will be his last. He walks down the streets and alleys, seeing drug addicts inject themselves with recreational VACCINATIONS, prostitutes VOLUNTEERING their time in the late hours. How generous of them, as he pushes a few aside when they approach. Tom needs a permanent VACATION. One way or another, he’s going to get it tonight. And we’re not talking the VANCOUVER or VENICE type VACATIONS. No his VOTE would be to go to the middle of fucking no where USA. Exactly where that package is going.
He turns a few alleys, dark, isolated, and finds the place. Two men stand outside. One approaches him and says “we gotta check ya Tom”. Tom puts his hands up and spreads. Both men in long coats on check over Tom and pat him down. As they do, their jackets open up and Tom sees the guns they are carrying. “He’s clean” one says. The other turns and knocks on the rusted metal door that has a small peek window. Latch opens, a pair of eyes look out, and quickly shuts again. Locks, and latches, and deadbolts unlock for a few seconds before the door opens and they all walk into a dark room. One light bulb partially illuminates the room. “Sit down Tom” a voice says across the room. Tom walks over to a wooden chair underneath the light, and sits down slowly. He hears the door lock up and the two men who greeted him outside are now inside standing on guard, with hands underneath their jacket. Tom takes a quick peek with his peripheral vision and then looks ahead to pure darkness.
“Tom, where is she?” a voice asks. “Butt fuck no where boss, you won’t find her” he replies.
“Tom I asked you to do a job for me, and you didn’t follow through. I should have known the only time you would fuck up would be over a woman”. The voice rises in volume and sounds frustrated.
“I need a VACATION” Tom says.
“There are no VACATIONS in this fucking job!!!” the man screams as he slams a desk. “You are in or you are out!” Now where the fuck is she!?” the Boss yells. A moment of silences passes, and then a cigarette lights up and you can see the outline and features of a face across the room. He’s old, a lot of years on that face. Stocky in build with a bit of gut. Years of delegating has not kept him in the best of shape.
“You’re not going to tell me?” the Boss asks. Tom simply shakes his head. “No, I’m not”.
The frustration grows in the Boss. “Tom, I rescued you. You were a rescue. An orphan. A fucking nobody and I took you in. I gave you a life. And this is how you’re going to repay me?” The boss pleads as a few guns start to cock and click.
“I did everything you asked, I killed when I didn’t want to kill.” Tom exclaims.
“Bullshit! Tommy, you were already a killer, I gave you an opportunity to do it in a way that wouldn’t get you the chair. And now look, you’re in the chair any way” he sucks on the cigarette longer this time with a heavy exhale. The smoke masquerades his face momentarily.
“Enjoy hell” the Boss says..
“I’ll see you there” Tom replies.
“..but not today” The Boss quickly rebuttals.
“The very least you could do is let me have one last cigarette” Tom pleads. The Boss stares at him for a moment, and nods to his associate. He gives his henchman, one of 5 in the room, a lighter and cigarette. Tom stands up and takes a cigarette into his lips, as a man lights it up. And walks back to the boss and hands up back the lighter.
“You’re right Boss…not today…” Tom says, and suddenly strikes the bulb with his forehead shattering the light and darkening the room. “Shoot him!!” as bullets fly across the room in pure darkness. Only the light from guns blowing off give any indication of where anyone is. “Ahhh”” screams of agony and pain fill the room along with bullets ricocheting of the walls, and empty shells littering the ground. “Get him!” the Boss screams.
You hear heavy breaths…
“Where is he?” someone whispers.
“Shut up!” someone else whispers.
“Did anyone get him?” another whispers.
“Shut the fuck up” another whispers.
More silence… Seconds feel like minutes…
“You missed me..” Tom whispers
More bullets fly out across the room! “Ahhhh!!” The sound of walls being littered with bullets is accompanied by bodies falling to the ground and breaking tables and glass.
Finally, the silence is broken by the flick of a lighter. It’s the Boss trying to see in the darkness. He’s hiding behind a desk, scared shitless. He takes a gulp, and peeks around the desk, looking for any sign of life. Finally he manages to spot a lit cigarette. He goes back behind desk and opens the drawer slowly and quietly. He pulls out his gun and slows cocks it. With the lighter still burning, he takes a deep breath, stands up quickly and tries to shoot where Tom is standing. But before he gets off “CRACK!” a shot rings out and hits the Boss in the knee. “Ahhhhhh” he screams in agony and drops to the floor. The lighter drops right by his face, illuminating the pain shown on his face. Writhing in pain, the Boss looks towards Tom. Tom unlocks the door and cracks it open. The moonlight brightens the doorway as the Boss sees Tom’s shadow. The wind rustles and blows his long jacket in the doorway.
“You gave me life when I didn’t have one.” Tom says with his back facing to the Boss but head turned slightly in his direction. “…So I won’t take yours now. Consider us even” Tom says.
“You’ll always be a killer Tom. Death will always be around you.” The Boss struggles to even say anything because of wound. Tom tilts his head down and holsters the gun. He looks back up and vanishes into the darkness..
The Boss still in agony, and squinting his eyes with tears of pain gasps out “VOL DE MORT.”
Vol de Mort: translates to flying from death or flying death.