Friday, May 26, 2017

Write What You Know, Part 27

Original Preamble

This is my first draft for NaNoWriMo 2016 novel Write What You Know. It's only a rough draft with very minimal editing and will, more than likely, contain, typos, grammatical errors, plot holes, or conflicting descriptions. It also includes notes to myself and excerpts from the novel the MC is writing that I try to indicate through various formatting that doesn't always translate well with my limited html skills. Furthermore, this particular novel is... there's no delicate way to put this... this novel is fucked up. So, especially in this rough draft crazed sort of NaNoWriMo way of writing, it may be difficult to read or follow.  I'm still posting it here because I want to shed more light on the process of writing to encourage and inspire other writers or readers who are interested. To learn more about this project, or my daily NaNoWriMo postings, please read Day 1-7.

Additional Preamble

NaNoWriMo 2016 ended 6 months ago and I never finished releasing my rough draft, for various reason but chiefly that I was without internet service on my computer for three of those months. I've debated a lot about re-establishing these postings mostly because I don't really think there were readers waiting with baited breath for the rest of this hunk of junk rough ass draft. But then I remembered that the point of me doing this isn't for the number of readers but to inspire and to finish things. The internet is forever right? Even if it means nothing now, some internet archaeologist could dig this up 200 years from and say . . . I don't know something. Or maybe there's that one other person out there right now and this is exactly what they need. Like Feida Kahlo said:
       --I used to think I was the strangest person in the world but then I thought there are so many people in the world there must be someone just like me who feels bizarre...I hope that you are out there and you read this and know that yes it's true I'm here and I'm just as strange as you.-- (Wikiquote)
This is for you, other weirdos.

Write What You Know, Part 27
By Stephanie Thompson,  1, 651 words

Read: Part 1Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23, Part 24, Part 25, Part 26

“No. She didn’t say anything. But she’s a very good actor.”
“Okay, this is a very good start. I’ll get my team trying to track down Helen. We’re also going to work on finding your phone, and I’ll bring you a copy of your itinerary and maybe that can help you cut through the travel fog to remember what you did when and who with. Then tomorrow. . .” She paused for a moment. She looked up from her notes and scheduling. She looked at Christie and patted her hand. “Tomorrow we’re going to talk about how we approach your past in court.”
Her sincere desire to help, the touches of caring almost made her feel better for a second. But then she ripped it all away. How to deal with her past in court? She didn’t want to deal with it. She didn’t want to mention it, bring it up, tell anyone. Her center froze like her core being had been replaced with a tube of ice.
“Is that really necessary, don’t worry we’ll be well beyond prepped for any implications, tactics, or cross examinations they might try”
“No I mean, why does this have to come out? Shouldn’t all the doctor stuff be private? Shouldn’t my old name, my past actions be irrelevant? They are all juvenile records.”
“I’m sorry Christie but the cat is out of the bag and we can’t put the genie back in the bottle. The prosecutor is no fool. He’s definitely going to bring it up in court, even if we can get it suppressed for being prejudicial (or whatever) HE’ll hint at some or or some other type of fancy legalese footwork to mention it and we will have to deal with it in whatever form it takes.”
Christie was listening and not listening at the same time. A  loud hum filled her ears and the thump-thump of her heart almost drowned out Sawyer’s words. No matter what happened now, it was all over. Christie Fields was dead and Cassandra hasn’t even need a shiv (OR SOMETHING ShARP) this time.

“God, I really thought I’d never see you again.”
“Yeah, well. . .”
“I can’t tell you how sad that made me.”
The bitch didn’t look sad. She looked happy as a mother fucking clam. Cassandra want to jump on her, just like the time they were together, and rip her scalp off. There wouldn’t be any burly orderlies to save Jennifer this time. She had switch blade in pocket this time not a (WHATEVER SHARP THING), she was sure she could cause real damage this time, get her blade deeper than the liver, maybe even actually kill her. She could see it all in front of her more real than the actual reality. Jennifer’s bloody scalp flapping ath back of her skull blood dripping down her face as she said whatever disgusting platitude she was saying now. Blood splattered on the guests around them. Blood soaking in to the table cloth as she reached across and took her hand. Jennifer smiled and blood poured out of her mouth. Cassandra smiled back.

She didn’t expect to be holding hands with Cassandra today. She didn’t expect but it felt so natural, just like that first time. It just happened and then it was and Christie couldn’t imagine the reunion being any different than how it was.
“So tell me everything, tell me all you’ve been up to.”

She had been smoking on the patio ever since Sawyer left. The sun was set now. Her eyes and nose produced a constant stream of fluids because of the bitter, seething cold. Stella, who was sleeping on the couch for the second night in a row, brought her out a blanket and some wine.
“I really wish you would come inside, Christie. Lindsey made it sound like you guys had a really productive afternoon, what’s wrong?”
She shrugged in response and drank the wine like a thirsty man in the desert. Stella went back in side shivering.
You’re going to freeze to death out here.
It’ll be doing her work for her.
There isn’t much more for her to do. She’s got what she wanted, I’ll have nothing. I’l have no one. There will only be me and her.
You have me.
Well, you’re the reason I have no one else. You’re the reason I can’t be me in the first place.
Jeez, don’t take that tone about it.
Wine sloshed in the oversized glass as shivered, drank, and smoke in the freezing darkness.
Look, I know we don’t always get along but, you don’t deserve this. We loved her, we gave her everything, and it’s just like you told me, we did what we did to survive. To live. We deserve that as much as anyone, as much as Helen or Cassandra.
How will we survive this?

Hel-en. Hel-en. IT’s time to come out now. IT’s time for your reckoning too.
There was a small space. A tiny, hidey hole where she could scrunch down, become tiny herself and hide. She didn’t know what the original purpose was in the house, it had always been there, like it was made just for Helen to hide in. And as long as it was dark, she could stay there. Cassie hadn’t found her yet. But it wasn’t dark any more. It was bright, blazing hot. It was red all around her. The whole place was burning down.

“This is some dumb stupid conversation I should really write between Cassandra and Christie in this cafe but I really don’t want to figure it out or write it. I don’t know how many times or ways I can say that Christie was ignorantly happy and Cassandra was sullen and distant. I don’t really think the conversation adds much to the story but I know I want it to be there. I want it to be there I just don’t know what it is yet so like so many thing in this part of the book, this is just a place holder for future better words.” This is maybe even in the cell store. In fact yeah, that makes damn good sense like maybe something like this.

She filled out the forms without thinking anything about it. Writing her name was as automatic to her now as breathing.
“Who’s Christie Fields?” Cassandra asked.
“Um. . . Well I am.”
“I thought you were legit now, Jen. Straight and narrow. Normal.”
“Well, I mean it’s not anything illegal. It’s just that, well you know the,” she looked around for the sales person or any other shoppers nearby but they were all busy doing something else. “With the drugs and arrest reports it was hard to leave that all  behind without, without anew name. So I legally changed mine. It’s no big deal. Well, except all my money is in that name,” she laughed but it rang false in her own ears. It felt weird to explain it to her, like it was a lie. And she supposed on a level it was a lie. She was lying to her which she had never done before. And she didn’t know why she was doing it. Christie Fields was who she was. It was who Cassandra had had coffee with, It wasn’t just a stooge, a name on the legal papers, some empty facade. Maybe it started that way but she poured herself into it and it wasn’t empty now. So why was she pretending like it was?
“Yeah, I get it. A fresh start.”
“Yeah, sort of,” she shrugged a little. Filled in more information on the paper, hoped that Cassandra would let it drop now.
“I’m glad,” she lied. She was little surprised she could get it out right. She tried again just to make sure it was real. “I’m glad you were able to have the life we always talked about.”
She smiled at her and Cassie wanted to slam her teeth into the glass case she was writing on.
“You will have it too. You’ll see,” she said.
No, you will see. I will make you see.

Helen Richards had a warrant for her arrest (OR WHATEVER IT IS THEY PUT OUT ON LONG TIME FUGITIVES). Three years ago she escaped from the state facility she was kept in (you know, figure out where the hell all these hospital and institutes are for fuck’s sake).  She stabbed two people in her escape. Stabbing was her favorite form of violence it seemed. Both survived but she add more agg assault charges to her rap sheet.
And after that she vanished. For awhile anyway. Until earlier that year. What did she do with that phone in the mean time (I mean how long can they trace or track GPS data from cell phones? Did she maybe keep it turned off until she need the trail to implicate Christie? Was that even purposeful?)
Now his perspective shifted. While her arrest file was thinner than what he could get on Christie, the charges matched the current crimes better. Basically stabbing after stabbing. Frenzied repetitive stabbing. She had been in all the same places but Helen was already a ghost, like a shadow following her. Whatever name and money she traveled on he had no way or idea of tracking it down. AT least, not with what he had now. Not until he could bring Helen in for questioning. Or arrest her on her outstanding warrant. But he had no idea where to go to find her or what she wanted out of following Christie.
HE chugged down like half a can of Red Bull and a light bulb flickered on in the back of his brain. So far, as far as he could tell anyway, Helen was where ever Christie was. So if he followed her, he might spot Helen and close this case more conclusively.

Thanks for Reading!