Corpse: Submission #10

This, of course, is submission #10 of my story, Corpse. I liked the way the story was flowing up until this point. I've read over the additional 15 or 16 pages I have and decided I am going to a rewrite as I really don't like the next chapter. I am also looking at changing my writing style a bit (thanks Mary B. for the suggestions and candid criticism). That said, it may take me a bit of time to get the next sections written. I really hope you've enjoyed what I've written up to this point. I know I had a good time writing it and hope to continue with it. I really don't think that this is going to end up a book that gets published, but I certainly hope I can learn something about the process and use it to further my writing abilities with the overall goal of eventually having something put to print. Okay, that's it from me. Hope you enjoy this most recent submission and as always, feedback is welcome.

Jonathon put the car in reverse, and backed blindly out of the parking spot. He put the car in drive and hunching forward, peeked out the small defrosted spot in the glass before punching the gas and roaring out of the parking lot.

He decided he would take the back roads home, figuring he could get the car up to speed without worry about police and avoiding the heavy truck traffic that cursed this particular stretch of the expressway between here and his place.

The little sports car hummed along at seventy-five along the tree lined road, fence posts and farm house zipping by as he headed east. There was relatively little traffic on the county roads and that which got in front of him was quickly passed and left in the rearview.

The window was starting to defrost pretty well when he eclipsed a hill and saw the lights of an oncoming cargo van. Pressing the brakes slightly, Jonathon wrinkled his brow and wondered what the opposing driver was all about when the guy flipped his headlights on and off.

Jonathon looked down to see if he had inadvertently left his brights on as he had come up over the hill but immediately noticed that the little light green in the corner of the control panel was off. He barely had time to look up when a small herd of deer numbering eight or nine crossed the road in front of him.

The little sports car slammed into a small doe at seventy miles and hour, the aerodynamics of the car throwing the animal into the air. Jonathon tried to avoid another one, a much larger buck that had simply stopped in the middle of the road. As he twisted the wheel to the left, the back end of the car came around and he began to spin out.

While the accident seemed to take forever to play out, it was a mere second before the little car crossed the center line, went down into the ditched and started to roll. The tumble was very short lived when while upside down, the driver’s side door slammed violently into a great oak tree growing beside the road. The car twisted around the tree and Jonathon’s body absorbed the impact. Glass from the broken windows exploded all over him and a great pain erupted from his left hip as a shard of twisted metal stabbed into his hip. The crumpled roof slammed down into his head when the car had flipped over and it didn’t take long for Jonathon to lose consciousness, bleeding profusely while still strapped in and hanging upside down inside his now unrecognizable Crossfire.

A passing motorist saw the results of the accident and immediately called 911 to report it. It took about fifteen minutes for the responders to actually reach the crash scene and many more to cut Jonathon out of the wreckage. When they finally got him out and laid him out on a sheet of plastic on the side of the road, Jonathon was barely alive, blood having poured out of the deep puncture wound on his left side.

“This guy is a mess Pete,” a female paramedic in her fifties told her partner. “I’m not sure he is going to make it, he’s lost a ton of blood and we still don’t know how serious this head injury is.”

“Well, let’s get him into the wagon and back to U of M,” her partner responded, adjusting a gurney that the attendants had just pulled from the nearby ambulance.

Within moments Jonathon was strapped down and loaded into the back of the bright yellow emergency vehicle. Traffic in both directions was stopped and curious onlookers stood beside their cars trying to get a glimpse of the scene. A bloody body of the unlucky doe had been dragged to the side of the road, secondary to the crumpled remains of the speedy sports car that still lay twisted around the unyielding tree.

Inside the ambulance, the attendants went to work on Jonathon, trying to stabilize him and staunch the prolific flow of blood. The heart monitor beeped steadily, evidence that their patient was still holding on to life. In the background the scream of the ambulance sirens blared, the vehicle bounding back down the same road Jonathon had just careened down on his dash to get back home so he could make it in to work on time.

Two minutes out from the University Hospital Jonathon flat-lined, his heart stopping leading to a steady tone from the ambulance heart monitor. The attendants flew into action, beginning CPR and trying to bring Jonathon back. He was dead, but they weren’t going to call it until they did everything they could to bring him back.

Corpse: Submission #9

This is submission #9 of my story called Corpse. It looks like I am going to have to start writing again as I am getting fairly close to a portion that I want rewritten because I'm not happy with the visualization created in the first draft. Hopefully I can get cracking on that soon. If and when I do, I think it will make the story flow much better in the future and add a lot to the book. As always comments and criticisms are welcome.

CHAPTER 3:

Jonathon decided that rather than go home he would just spend the night with Amy. He usually didn’t like to do so because it meant he had to get up extra early and head back to his apartment before heading into work. Before he knew it though, it was eleven o’clock and with a forty-five minute drive back to his place, it was easier just to give in to his rare moment of laziness and stay the night.

As always, Amy was ecstatic. She loved when he stayed over because she loved to pretend that they were already married and that “this is how life will be like once we are together forever,” she would swoon.

Jonathon took it in stride. “Let her believe what she wants,” he thought. “It isn’t going to be all fairy tales and wonderful times.” She had no idea that he had no intention of changing the way he currently did things. As he had told his brother over beers one night when the Josh had accused him of being under her thumb once they tied the knot, “No way man, there is nothing to worry about. This just means that my consistent stickin’ is a lot closer than Ann Arbor.”

When the alarm went off at 5:00am, he made her hit snooze twice before he rolled the sheets back and sat up. It was way too early, but he had to get to work.

Jonathon stood up and slipped his jeans on as Amy rolled over. “Why don’t you get a shower here,” she asked him, “maybe I’ll give you some company, you know, wash your back, and stuff…” she trailed as she gave him a little wink.

“Knock it off Amy,” he snapped at her. “This is what I’m always talking about. Every time I stay over you play like this is a slumber party or something. I have to get to work, you know that. I can’t be screwing around. When are you going to grow up and realize that I have commitments besides you that I have to deal with?”

She looked flabbergasted. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it. I just thought maybe we could have a few minutes together before you left.”

“You had your few minutes with me last night,” he growled. “I canceled my plans so I could be with you. If that isn’t enough then you better rethink the sacrifices we both need to make so that this relationship can work. I’ve given a lot of myself so I can make you happy, so you better start thinking about that.”

“I’m sorry, you’re right. It’s just that I love being around you all the time. I just want to make you happy.” She looked up from her pillow, her eyes tearing, “I just want to be married to you so bad. It is all I can think about. I know it will be so wonderful. We’ll be so happy together. I wish June would get here sooner.”

Jonathon rolled his eyes, “Well, this is November and I’m not about to throw my job away because you want to play house with me. Right now, I have to get back to my apartment and get ready for work. I’ll see you on Saturday.”

With that he walked out of the bedroom, muttering under his breath. “I never should have stayed last night,” he said to himself. “I knew this was going to happen.”

Without much fault Jonathon slipped on his loafers, grabbed his jacket off of the coat rack by the door and walked out the door, leaving Amy alone in her bedroom crying in the bedroom.

It was cold outside, and the result was a nice layer of frost on the windshield of the Crossfire. Jonathon slid into the driver’s seat, turned on the car and flipped on the defrost. He flipped open the glove box and found that the scraper wasn’t in there. “This whole staying the night is turning into a real pain in the ass,” he thought.

Getting back out he walked over to Amy’s car to get her scraper only to find the car locked. “There’s no way I’m going back in there and dealing with her again,” he muttered under his breath.

Climbing back into the car Jonathon just sat there in the dark looking at the illuminated dash, waiting for the warmth to kick in and his dashboard to clear.

It took about three minutes for him to get impatient. The defroster had just started to work and two small half moons of clean windshield slowly grew from the dash. Jonathon flipped on the windshield wipers, hoping they would help clear the glass faster, but it was to no avail, they simply swooshed back and forth with no effect.

“It will clear soon enough,” he said aloud, “I don’t have time to just sit here.”

Corpse: Submission #8

The story continues...

Stephanie nodded emphatically, fear threatening to overwhelm her. Her mind raced as she considered how she could escape this monster. Before she could fabricate any plan he continued, “I will be here, watching you. If you scream out, if you even take one step in a direction other than that car, your children will be dead before you can get to a phone to call the police. By the time they get here, I will be gone, and so will your children. I think you are a smart girl Stephanie; you’ll do what you are told. I’m correct, aren’t I?”

Again Stephanie nodded knowing she was going to absolutely follow his instructions. Once he got away from Michael and Cameron she could consider escaping, but not until he was out of her house, away from her babies.

He walked her to the front door, his thick fingers gripping her elbow through leather gloves she just now noticed. “Do not run to the car, do not do anything that will call attention to yourself. I will be watching, and if I see a neighbor’s light come on, if I see a window blind open up, if I hear a dog bark, I will kill your son. You need all the luck you can muster right now Stephanie, you need to be invisible.”

He spoke so matter of factly that Stephanie could do nothing but listen and when it came time to move, she would obey, there was no doubt.

The intruder went to the picture window to the left of the front door and pulled the curtains aside, looking out. It was quiet and dark, no lights on in any of the surrounding houses. It was a good time to take her, he knew that. “It’s time to go,” was all he said as he unlatched the door and opened it for Stephanie.

“You’re doing the right thing Stephanie. Your kids are going to be all right. You are a smart girl; don’t get stupid all of a sudden.” With that he opened the door and stepped back. She reached for the handle of the screen door and the man said, “You go get in the car, I’ll be in Michael’s room.” With that he retreated through the house and down the hallway to her son’s room.

For an instant Stephanie considered going after the man, but she knew that he would get to Michael before she could get to him. She was going to have to listen to him if she was going to protect her children.

With great trepidation she opened the screen door and stepped out onto the porch stoop. Her hands shook as she closed the door, making sure it didn’t slam. It was if every sound she made was intensified. Her biggest fear right now was that a neighbor’s light would come on or some random noise would rouse the people from their sleep.

The stone of the porch was chilly on her bare feet, but she hardly noticed. Her focus was on the sedan parked down the street. Glancing side to side, to make sure no one saw her, she crept down the steps. Rather than walk along the sidewalk, Stephanie quickly cut across the grass. The lawn was dewy and cold, chilling her physically to go with the bitter cold of the terror she was current living.

After what seemed like an eternity, she finally reached the car parked unobtrusively on the side of the street. It was a dark blue Ford Taurus, just like her dad used to drive. Stephanie grabbed the handle of the passenger back seat door, just like she had been told when she ventured a glance back at her little house. From where she stood she could see the window of Michael’s room and what she saw chilled her to the bone. Standing in the window was the man, watching her as she followed his instructions. She knew that no less that two from where the man stood was her little boy, sleeping the night away as if there was nothing wrong.

“What would Michael do in the morning when he woke up,” she thought. In her mind she knew that she wouldn’t be back. She had read the news reports about the killer stalking the outskirts of Chicago and she had no doubt that this was the same man. She had already allowed herself to wonder how he had gotten into her house and frankly had no clue. It didn’t really matter anymore, he had gotten inside and he had gotten her. All she could do was go along with his plans and hope that he stayed true to his word and leave her children alone.

She opened the door to the car and was relieved when the dome light didn’t come on. She had feared that someone, somewhere in one of the homes along the street would notice her. Glancing around, she guessed that this was not the case. Getting in the backseat, she closed the backdoor, cringing as the door made the recognizable slam as she pulled it closed.

Fearing that someone heard her, she ducked down behind the seat and stayed that way for at least a minute. When she poked her head back up she saw him still standing in Michael’s window, just watching the car she was now inside.

The backseat was empty, not even a hint of dirt on the floor or seat. There were no papers on the floor, no pop cans rolling around, no nothing. This guy was meticulous. She wished she could venture to reach into the glove box, but she knew he would see her. There was nothing she could leave for the police to find that would tell them where she was.

With nothing left to do but obey the man who right now stood over her son, Stephanie Gimble opened the seat, crawled into the trunk and shut the seat behind her. With a quiet click, she sealed herself within a coffin of steel.

Corpse: Submission 7

This is submission number 7 of my story Corpse. As always, I hope you enjoy it...

Instantly he retreated to the boy’s room and waited there for her, making sure he hid himself behind the door. Shortly afterward he heard the water turn off and the woman padding down the hallway, first checking on the daughter, and then opening the door to the boy’s room.

Through the crack of the door he saw her, hair bundled up under a towel just like Janice used to wrap hers when they had been together. I took everything he had to keep from springing out and grabbing her. His patience held check and he waited as she returned to her room. After she had closed the boy’s door the killer simply stood there watching the boy sleep, a drop of cool sweat rolling down his cheek as he thought about what he was about to do to the five year old’s mother.

The first thing Stephanie noticed when she opened her eyes was the bright glow of the clock radio sitting on the stand beside her bed. It read 2:38. She gasped as she awoke because she knew something was wrong. A moment later a voice whispered in her ear, “If you make a sound I will hurt Michael…badly,” he let the last word hang so she would get a clear message. The voice sounded familiar, but she couldn’t place a face with it. He felt his hand on her shoulder and effectively holding her down against the mattress.

His grip was extremely strong, and his fingers dug into her flesh. Once again the voice spoke, “You’re going to get out of bed, and get dressed. If you do that, little Michael will be fine. I don’t want any questions, I don’t want any crying. If you try anything, if you scream, I will cut you, and then I’ll cut your kids. Do you understand?”

Stephanie could do nothing but whimper but managed to nod. She felt the hand release her shoulder and turned to look at her attacker.

“Oh no, we’ll get to know each other later,” he said, grabbing her by the hair and yanking her head back around and away from him. “You get yourself dressed or we’ll be taking a walk down to Michael’s room.”

Stephanie obeyed, reaching down to the pile of dirty clothes she had left on the floor earlier that night. Quickly she began to dress, trying desperately to stifle her sobs. She didn’t bother to change out of her night shirt; instead, she just pulled on the grungy jeans she had worn to work that day, and tucked her long t-shirt in to it.

“Don’t worry about shoes, you won’t need those,” the voice came from behind her as he watched her dress. “And don’t ask where we are going, it shouldn’t really matter to you. The only thing that you should be thinking about is ‘how am I going to keep my kids safe.’ I can answer that for you: just do what I tell you to do.”

The voice held no waiver, no remorse. It was simply dominating. She cringed every time he spoke to her, like a dog shrinking from the strike of an angry master. She knew that she was in a great deal of trouble, that she was backed in to a corner she couldn’t get out of. It was all because of her children, still sleeping thirty feet away, unaware of what was happening to their mother. She prayed that they would stay asleep; she certainly didn’t want them walking in on this horror that she was living. In her mind’s eye she could see her innocent little girl slashed but whatever knife this stranger claimed he had. From the tone of his voice, she knew he was capable of such and atrocious act.

After dressing, Stephanie turned and caught her first glimpse to the man who had invaded her home. He was tall, about six three and was heavily built. He was shrouded in a dark trench coat and beneath wore a hooded sweat shirt which he had pulled up. In the darkness she couldn’t make out his features but could see his eyes, dark and glaring. As she stared at him, he moved his index finger to his lips and reinforced that she was to remain quiet.

The man walked over to Stephanie and whispered in to her ear, “Now, listen very closely to me and follow my instructions and your children will not be harmed.” His breath smelled of mint as he continued. “There is a green car parked out there about a hundred feet up the street. The back, passenger side door is unlocked. I want you to go and get in the car, through that unlocked door. When you get inside, you’ll find that you can pull down the backseat to get into the trunk. I want you to crawl into the trunk and pull the seat back up behind you. You will hear it latch. You will lay still and not make a sound. Do you understand?”

Corpse: Submission 6

Here is the next installment of my story Corpse. I would love to hear your comments thus far, otherwise I'm basically just stumbling around in the dark here. Thanks.

With her eyes closed her other senses became more acute and she was sure she heard something. It sounded like the door had been pushed open and slammed against the wall. Sticking her head out of the shower she called out, “Michael is that you?” There was no response. “Honey, mommy is in the shower, what do you need?” There was still no answer.

Michael was known to get up out of bed and come in to her room at night. She really wished he wouldn’t do that. He was a terrible bed hog and she never got a good night sleep with him snuggling up to her.

“Michael, you need to go back to bed honey. I’m going to be up for awhile and the light will keep you awake,” she lied, “you need your rest for school tomorrow.”

She wasn’t terribly surprised that he didn’t answer her. He was stubborn and knowing him, was probably back to sleep already. Oh well, she would just pick him up and take him back to his room once she was done with her shower.

Ten minutes later, with her head wrapped up in a towel; Stephanie emerged from her bathroom, expecting to see Michael curled up on her bed. She was a bit surprised to find that her room was empty. “Huh, I wonder where he is?” she thought to herself. Walking along the darkened hallway she poked her head into Cameron’s room. In the darkness she saw the silhouette of her three year old daughter as she slept in her little toddler bed.

Closing the door she moved to the end of the hall where her son’s room was. Peeking her head in, she looked in on Michael. There he was, buried under his Spiderman comforter just like he was when she had put him to bed an hour ago.

“I wonder what that sound was,” she thought, returning to her room. “I’m sure I heard something. I must have been imagining things.” Just for her own sanity she walked through the house, checking each door and assuring herself that the house was sealed up nice and tight. Finding nothing she returned to her room. Once there, she pulled down the blankets, shed her bathrobe (adding it to the pile of clothes on the floor) and climbed into bed. The bed felt so good. Reaching over, she turned off the lamp on the bedside table and in no time, was fast asleep.

The key to cooperation was to get close to the children. A mother will do anything to protect their kids. He chose the boy’s room because he was older and therefore more likely to react in a way that could cause him trouble if the boy discovered him. Anymore the schools were teaching kids about strangers and 911 early on, so he knew that the boy was his biggest threat. By hiding in the boy’s room he could make sure that he would not be surprised if the boy was to wake up and discover him, there was no way he could have made it back to the basement without being heard.

The woman would be no problem; she would do as he asked simply because he had the leverage. If worse came to worse, he could snatch up one of the children and threaten their life, as he knew how women thought. They would gladly sacrifice themselves for their children and he was more than happy to use that against them.

He had been stupid to try to go into her room while she was in the shower. He had thought he could get closer to her and that was his mistake. In the other three he had simply stayed put until the house was quiet and everyone was asleep. This was always the worst time for him because all he could do was stay still and think. It was this downtime that frustrated him, angered him to the point that he began to blame the woman for making him do this. He hated the wait. It was always dark and he always ventured back in thought to the day when his wife had left him, taking his kids with him. She didn’t love him anymore; she didn’t want to see him anymore. Most of all it angered him because she was taking the kids and if she had her way, he would never see them again.

It was these thoughts that caused him to leave the basement to creep up to her room when he heard the shower turn on. He knew that it was stupid, but he couldn’t stand it any longer, he needed to get out of there, do something. She wasn’t going to dictate what he was going to do, not like that bitch he had married. He was in charge, and if he wanted to come out of the basement, then that was what he was going to do.

Then he had opened the door and without thinking, let it bang against the wall. That had caused her to call out, and instant sent a shiver up his back. In a moment he began to panic, and then remembered his plan: get between her and the child. She’ll do anything to protect the child.

Corpse: Submission 5

My story submission continues. This time, submission number 5:

CHAPTER 2:

Finally. It had been such a long day and the kids had been crazy tonight. It was like they had been caged all day. Stephanie wasn’t the type of mother who yelled at her kids, but tonight she couldn’t help it. She hated herself for being so harsh. She knew that the kids measured her reactions against that of their father and while she had custody of them, she always worried that Scott would make a move to take the kids away.

At this point in her life she couldn’t handle anything more than working and raising the kids. It was so difficult being single again. Since the day she had signed the divorce papers she had felt regret for doing so. Scott was a good father, a hard worker and a good provider. “Why the hell did you have to cheat on me,” she thought for the thousandth time since she had discovered his infidelity.

Stephanie knew that she had done the right thing divorcing Scott even though she wrestled with it everyday. She imagined what life be like right now had she forgiven him and taken him back. Sure, he slept with a skank from the gym, but when he left he took so much with him. The kids were always asking her why daddy had to leave. The bills continued to pile up and the worst was that the house was so quiet at night. When Scott was around the television would be on, or he could be heard out in the garage, working on some unfinished project, singing to the music on the local classic rock station.

Now the house was silent, the kids having had gone to bed an hour earlier and Stephanie was heartbroken. She went into her bedroom and sat down on the bed and cried. It was so hard being alone. She needed someone, someone to help with the bills, someone to help fix dinner, someone to give the kids a bath at night. It just wasn’t fair; she had been a good wife, and a good mother. She listened, just like Dr. Phil said you needed to in a successful relationship. She was always there for Scott and always provided (or so she assumed) for every one of Scott’s needs. Yet he had looked for another woman to provide the one thing Stephanie had made sure she was attentive to and that was the thing that bothered her the most. She truly felt that she had failed as her most basic “wifely duty” and for that she had lost her husband of eight years.

Stephanie cried for about ten minutes, throwing herself down onto the bed, her head buried in her pillow. She allowed herself to complete what she called her “sob cycle” before she started to feel better. It always helped to let it out. Now she felt exhausted and was ready to sleep.

There was no way she was going to crawl between the sheets before taking a shower. Working in that factory all day had covered her with the stink of oil and coolant and while her body begged for her to rest, she wasn’t going to before cleaning up and brushing her teeth.

Stephanie stood up and started undressing, throwing her dirty jeans, blouse and underclothes in a pile beside her bed. She would wear the jeans again tomorrow and sort through the rest of the dirty clothes in the morning. She didn’t have the energy right now.

She went into the bathroom and turned on the shower. As she waited for the water to warm up she looked at herself in the mirror. She couldn’t help but think how old she looked now. At only twenty-nine years old these last few months had really worn on her. Quitting her part time job at the Dr. Warren’s dentist office and getting a full time factory job hadn’t helped, but at fourteen dollars an hour and a guaranteed forty hours a week made it a no brainer.

Her brown hair was matted and oily, and a small grease smudge started at her right ear and ran down her jaw line to the edge of her chin. She wondered if anybody would ever find her attractive again.

She climbed into the shower and let the hot water cascade over her body. It felt so good on her and allowed her to relax. Closing her eyes she simply breathed deep and forced her mind to clear of all her worries.

Corpse Submission 4

And the story continues...

To him this was a great accomplishment and while he normally used the women he dated and then moved on, this was different. There was a lot to gain from being around Amy. She was beautiful, but beyond that she had a charisma that made people take notice. She was the perfect accessory for Jonathon and while he didn’t consider her a trophy wife that was exactly what she was. She would do the one thing he wanted her to: she would make him look even better.

He also found that she had other things to offer. She was a motivated student and had plans of her own, wanting to go into physical therapy. She came from an affluent family herself, so she had an appreciation for money. She understood the importance of hard work, being well taught by her parents and that appealed to Jonathon. The most important trait however was as much a bane as it was a boon.

Amy was madly in love with Jonathon and this simply annoyed the hell out of him. On the other hand, this infatuation made her completely subservient to him. He knew better than to openly exploit this however. He knew he could make demands of her (like the time he made her cancel her vacation to the Bahamas with her parents in order for her go to his five year high school reunion with him) and while she whined and fussed about it, she always gave in to his demands.

She was also very accepting of Jonathon’s career. She knew that he was serious about making a good living and openly accepted it. This made it easy for Jonathon to have women on the side because he could use his job as an excuse whenever he needed to and Amy never questioned him.

The relationship with Amy worked out well and Jonathon found that he could certainly live with the arrangement. He lived sixty miles away from her so his independence was never really in jeopardy yet she was close enough to him that he could go down and see her when he felt like it.

Everything worked out well as Jonathon graduated and got his job as a design engineer. He worked while Amy went to school while she wished they could spend more time together, he insisted that their relationship could not get in the way of her education. She cried when he suggested they take some time off because he felt that with him moving back down to Detroit, that he would take up too much of his time.

This simply cemented Amy’s dedication to Jonathon. He made her a deal: he would visit her on weekends but during the week he would concentrate on his job and she would concentrate on school. “I am not a selfish person, Amy,” he remembered telling her, “I love you so much, but I could never come between you and your career. I know how much it means to you.”

With Amy out of the way, Jonathon could concentrate on work and not worry about having a boat anchor like Amy holding him back.

It wasn’t until two years later that Charles Gant, an executive in logistics hinted to Jonathon that every successful businessman had a wife. It made a person look more stable, less power hungry. Gant was a thirty year employee and told Jonathon in confidence that he understood what he was doing, but that he was losing his identity.

“Find yourself a good woman and marry her,” Gant had told him in the elevator one morning. “A woman at home, a few pictures of the wife and kids on your desk, a coffee mug with ‘I love Daddy’ on it makes people think you are working hard for something other than yourself. Right now you seem to be motivated by nothing more than power. You need to quit being so damned mechanical and start showing the big wigs that there is a person under all that intensity.”

That evening Jonathon drove to her apartment, took Amy to a nice Greek restaurant in downtown Detroit and proposed to her. He had been so intent on taking the advice from Gant that he didn’t even buy a ring. He gave her the excuse that he wanted her engagement ring to be perfect and that they would go out that weekend and pick one out.

“I’ve loved you since the day I met you Amy, and I realized today just how sad my life really is. I’ve allowed my job to dictate how we should live our lives and I know you’ve been thinking the same thing. I accept that you want an education, and you want a career, but I need you, and I need you to make room in your busy life for me.” He had rehearsed that speech a dozen times before he recited it to her.

Amy simply nodded and cried. When he asked her to marry him she burst into tears and threw her arms around him, repeating, “Yes, yes, yes,” over and over again until he had to peel her arms out from around his neck.

Since that day he had been annoyed by her constant prattle about the wedding. “What colors should we have? I’ve always wanted traditional colors but I really love a pale pink. Would you be upset if my bride’s maids wore pink dresses? I wouldn’t ask the guys to have any pink in their tuxes, although a pink rose corsage would look really pretty. What do you think Jonathon?”

In the end he just gave in to whatever she wanted. This was her wedding and frankly he didn’t really care, he just wanted to get it over with. He knew he couldn’t tell her that though, so that’s how he found himself pulling in to her apartment complex tonight. She wanted him to be there when a friend of her mother came over and talked to them about wedding cakes. So rather than go to the bar to catch the Wings’ game, he was going over to Amy’s.

Corpse Submission 3

Here is the next installment of my current story: Corpse.

At 7:00 pm Jonathon told the team to knock off for the night, that they could have the rest of the night off (it was not unlike Jonathon to make his team work until eleven or twelve, berating anyone who complained about the hours). “Make sure you guys are in here on time tomorrow, I want to go over the aerodynamics first thing tomorrow morning,” he reminded them as they left. It wasn’t necessary as everyone in the office knew that if anyone was going to be late in the morning, it would be Jonathon. First thing in the morning simply meant whenever Jonathon showed up, typically thirty minutes to an hour after everyone else had gotten their morning coffee and started with the days’ work.

While Jonathon refused to recognize them as so, his team was a very talented group. He drove them hard to meet deadlines, go beyond the norm to address issues and make every draft of an assignment as polished and professional as the final product. Jonathon was the driving force, refusing to accept anything less. He was a perfectionist and demanded it of his team. Once the man locked on to a project he made it his, and his team was responsible for getting it done the way he wanted it.

To a fault, Jonathon also refused to give up on anything. Many times designers were given a target and if they were able to hit the target, great. If not, they literally went “back to the drawing board” and started over. Jonathon was undaunted in belief that every problem could be overcome. He truly believed that time and effort could win out in the end, every time. It was this ideal that caused the most consternation for his team. Jonathon had no problem forcing extra hours, including weekends in order to figure out a problem facing the team. Failure to figure out a problem was not an option. You don’t give up, you don’t give in; you only give it more thought and figure it out. No exceptions.

It had been a short day at the office, not because there was nothing to do, but because Jonathon had promised Amy he would stop by this evening and spend some time with her. She was so demanding of him on the weekends that it infuriated him when she persisted on having him stop over at her place after work. He made note that he needed to have a talk with her about how things were going work once they got married. She needed to learn that he had to have his time and space. It wasn’t a whole lot for him to ask, or so he thought. There was nothing that frustrated him more than someone else dictating how he was going to spend his evening. She needed to understand that while he loved her, he had other things that he enjoyed doing and he wasn’t going to allow her to make demands that would keep him from doing them.

In actuality he didn’t have anything going on tonight. He was going to go to one of the local bars and watch the Red Wings game with his brother, but it had turned out that his brother couldn’t make it so it wasn’t a big deal. He wasn’t going to tell Amy that though. For all she knew he was still as pissed off now as he was on Sunday when she had insisted he swing by. He figured he could parlay this into something he wanted from her later on. Maybe he could use this to skip out on another boring meal with his future in-laws?

Amy would be considered a real catch for just about anyone but Jonathon. To him she simply served her purpose. She was beautiful, smart and independent, yet she was wholly infatuated with Jonathon. He had met her at a post game party when she was a freshman at the University of Michigan and he was a senior at GMI. He had never intended on starting a relationship with her. He had spent the night trying to get her to come back to his parent’s house with him and she had resisted. The farthest he got was having breakfast with her at 3:00am at a local greasy spoon before she gave him her phone number and made him promise to call her.

Normally he wouldn’t put that much of an effort into scoring with a girl, but Amy was different. She came across as the girl next door who was just starting to explore her adult life. That appealed to Jonathon’s sense of conquest and he decided then and there that he would have her.

It took six dates for Jonathon to finally attain his goal. She had given herself to him in the back seat of his Dad’s Cadillac and professed her love for him the same night. Jonathon had rolled his eyes as he was on top of her, thinking how sad it was that woman always had to relate love with sex. He didn’t feel any guilt telling her that he loved her too, knowing that this was just a game and he would do whatever it took to win the game.

Corpse Part 2

We continue with my story called Corpse. Comments are welcome...

Life was good for the twenty-five year old. He had a job that paid him six figures, a beautiful new condo in a great area outside the city and a gorgeous fiancé that was complete oblivious to the fact that she wasn’t the only woman who shared his affection. He truly believed that he was living the American dream and there wasn’t anyone who could stop him from taking it even further. He had worked his way to where he was and deserved every one of the accolades his position in professional and social life presented him.

Jonathon refused to accept that he was fast-tracked for success from the day he was born. His father owned a series of stamping plants in the eastern Michigan area and raised Jonathon and his brother Stephen in a palatial house in the upper-class suburb of Farmington Hills. Jonathon had been guaranteed a position in his father’s company, likely in purchasing or some mundane department but Jonathon had refused it. He had taken money for tuition (but that didn’t really count at least in Jonathon’s eyes) and went to college so he could began earning his fortune on his own.

Seeing his exit, Jonathon swerved across two lanes of traffic to get there. Ignoring the screech of brakes behind him, he turned off the highway onto the congested Detroit streets. Ten lights and fifteen minutes later he pulled into his marked parking spot in front of his building.

Stepping out of his car, he zipped up his brown leather jacket and smoothed down his pleated slacks. It had gotten chilly fast, realizing that just three weeks ago he had blown off two days in a row to play golf with at the country club with one of his associates. Jonathon hated winter, stating plainly that anything that forced him to slow down on the roads and put more clothes on “his ladies” was not for him.

The day went by pretty typically. There were plenty of meetings and phone calls. Jonathon had made a point of berating Alex, one of the project engineers, in front of the rest of the team. Alex was a guy much like Jonathon, young, smart and very ambitious. Jonathon also knew that Alex was willing to do anything to move up. So, whenever any little mistake was made, Jonathon would rip loose into Alex, making sure that everyone knew who was boss, particularly Alex. Jonathon wanted Alex on the defensive, fighting for his job at all times rather than fighting for a new, higher spot on the food chain.

Jonathon also made sure that he had someone to back him up if necessary. That’s why he had decided to start an affair with Candace while he was still a design engineer. Candace was a thirty-eight year old, average looking project engineer that worked on the team. Her husband had left her for a twenty-something looker, leaving her with nothing but bitterness. Jonathon had struck while the irons were still hot, moving in on Candace and making her feel as if he completely understood her anger (when in fact he didn’t blame the guy for dumping her and moving on to a young hottie).

When Jonathon had finally taken Candace to bed during a business trip out to New York, she had felt some kind of satisfaction that she too had found the affection of a young, good looking toy. Jonathon had quickly turned that, telling Candace that he was engaged and had made a mistake. Candace felt crushed. She needed him and promised that she wouldn’t tell anyone if he would continue to see her on occasion. He agreed, explaining to her that he would make her life hell at work if she ever told anyone. Sure, it was sexual harassment, but Jonathon knew that Candace needed him beyond the professional level, that when Jeremy had left her, Candace was broken, her ego crushed. Jonathon soothed that ego, made her feel wonderful.

Candace went through her days yearning for the day when she and Jonathon could be alone together again and he knew it. She would stay quiet and while Jonathon didn’t find her all that attractive, Candace was good in bed and she would serve him where Jonathon needed her: at work.

Jonathon knew that if it ever came down to a fight against Alex, or anyone for that matter, that Candace would back him unequivocally. Candace may not be the greatest engineer, but she had worked in the same department for fifteen years and had a good reputation for being a good worker and an honest employee. She would back Jonathon and anyone who listened to what she said would take her seriously.

Book Attempt #2: Corpse Page 1

Okay, I failed my last attempt to write my story. The reason I didn't like it was that I really had a hard time getting into the storyline itself. This time I'm going to try continuing a story I've already started and really like. I'll post a bit of it on a daily basis for you to take a look at and give me your opinion. The story is called Corpse. I hope you like it.

PROLOGUE:

The body of Carol Hannity was found exactly one week after she had gone missing. There was no doubt when she was found that she was dead; her chest was a mush made so by countless stab wounds. Her staring eyes echoed the fear she had displayed in her last moments of life.

Like the two other victims before her, she was a single mom, living a quiet, yet stressful life in small town on the far outskirts of Chicago. The police found relatively few differences between this murder and that of Chloe Wilson and Audrey Babbit. Granted, all three were from different small burbs surrounding the city, but the rest was the same. They were taken from their small, unassuming homes in the middle of the night. All three had been divorced, left to raise there children on their own, during varying periods of time and all three were taken while their small children slept.

The deaths were violent: multiple stab wounds to the chest with a large knife. The first blade had been serrated, the other two smooth, but that was the only difference. It didn’t take long for the Chicago-land area to proclaim the presence of a serial killer who was stalking young single mothers.

The press was all over the matter and the police were trying, but getting nothing from their investigations. All they knew was that the killer had slaughtered three women in a span of six weeks and the constant fueling of the flames by the local media was making the pressure unbearable by the day. They needed a break, but without evidence there was absolutely nothing they could do but hope that the killer had made a mistake and given them the one thing they needed to find the trail.

It was November and it felt as if the oppression of winter had already set in. The city and its entire people within fifty miles found no solace even in their homes as the sounds of settling house, blowing wind or passing traffic set them on edge. It was going to be a long cold season, made so by the cloak of oppression brought on by the presence of the Windy City Ripper.

CHAPTER ONE:

I94 traffic was horrible, as it was every morning, as Jonathon G. Pitts drove his Chrysler Crossfire along his normal route into work. While it was a nuisance, it didn’t stop the young executive from gunning the engine and whipping in and out of the tightly packed cars. Countless times he flipped off the anonymous horn honker behind him as he pushed his way forward through the never-ending line of cars. He was immune to the glares he got as he quickly accelerated by his fellow Detroiters.

Like always, Jonathon was focused on one thing and no one else particularly mattered. He was what the white-collar world called a go getter and their blue-collar counter parts called an asshole. Part of that had to do with his upbringing and part from his perception that he was better than just about anyone. He owned the world and everyone else needed to pony up their rent or get off his planet.

Jonathon was an up-and-comer in the automotive industry. He had graduated from GMI/EMI (now Kettering University) and was a young hot shot in the engineering/design area as an intern for automotive industry during his collegiate years. It hadn’t taken long for Pitts to get a full-time offer following graduation.

He had bided his time, being cordial, making friends and learning as much as he could. It hadn’t taken him long to figure out who were the movers and shakers, allowing him to begin the slow, methodical process of ingratiating himself with the decision makers. By the time his third year was over, his relationship with the design manager was solid enough for Jonathon to begin his push for advancement.

An issue with a new product line led to tensions between the group supervisor and the design manager. The issue arose regarding some critical specifications that were not met by the design team. Jonathon had known all about the issue but failed to mention it to his boss, knowing well that there had been countless errors in the program and that the group supervisor was teetering on the edge. In the end, the supervisor requested a transfer out of the position.

Jonathon, always quick to make an impression, immediately recognized the mistake, and with little prodding, took control of the design team and pushed through changes that fixed the problem and allowed the project to meet the deadline by two days. The next day Jonathon was promoted, celebrating by purchasing the completely decked out Crossfire he now weaved in and out of traffic.