I decided to take part in the StoryADay September 2015 challenge. The main reason being that I’m struggling to fully connect with my characters within the Morgan and Fairchild series. The writing is easier now, but it isn’t flowing as it should. Spending a month with the team, in addition to finishing the latest book, should help to iron out those kinks. The aim is simple – to write and finish a story every day in September. There will be a daily prompt to follow, but I will use that to continue a story, or stories – all related to Morgan and Fairchild. I’ve given myself a word limit of 600 words per day.
Prompt: Sept 1st – The Disappeared (write a story that features people disappearing).
Justin tapped his glass against Paul’s, tuning out the busy sounds of a thriving bar so he could concentrate on his friend. Paul looked better than the last time they met. But then it wasn’t hard – that time they had been in the emergency department. Justin had hauled him in off the street.
I’m glad you called,” he said, pushing aside the visual. “It’s really good to see you, Paul.”
“It’s good to see you too, man.”
When Paul broke eye contact and stared into his drink, Justin felt disappointment snake its way into his gut. He ignored it, irritated with himself. When had he stopped giving his friend the benefit of the doubt?
“I need your help.”
Those were the words Justin dreaded. Not because he didn’t have Paul’s back. He did. But he had learned the hard way that being a good friend meant refusing to feed Paul’s habit.
“A friend of mine, Olly, has disappeared.” Paul looked up. “He’s not the first, Justin. I think someone is targeting my friends.”
How many times had he listened to Paul’s conspiracy theories, he wondered. How many times had paranoia consumed his friend and caused a rift between them.
“Why don’t you stay with me for a few days?” Justin put a hand on Paul’s arm. “I’ll help you figure this out.” Justin watched temper flare in his friend’s eyes. There was also a healthy dose of fear, and that got his attention.
“I’m clean, Justin.” Paul put a hand over his. “You have to believe me, this isn’t the drugs talking. Olly had a good deal going at a shelter on Hastings. He was getting his act together too, but then he vanished. It’s not like him to leave without a word.” Paul took a swig from his beer. “I started asking around, and others are missing. Mostly street kids.”
“What is it you want me to do?” Justin asked, feeling something else snake its way into his stomach. It felt suspiciously like dread.
“I know you have connections. I just need you to look into it for me. Please, Justin. This is important.”
“Okay. I can’t promise anything, but I’ll ask around.” He drained his glass and stood. “Why don’t we get out of here. I could use something to eat, and you can tell me everything you know about this friend of yours.”
“Just give me five minutes.” Paul jumped off his stool and headed toward the sign marked toilets.
Justin watched him go, feeling like shit that he questioned his friend’s intentions and that he hoped Paul would still be clean when he came back out.
I’ll continue the story tomorrow (hopefully by working in the next prompt).
Thanks for stopping by.