[Fiction Practice] Crimedog Motorbike Casino

Was it a knock that had woken her? She’d been out cold since we got the report. Even after security moved her to the backroom. Sunglasses, scarves; covered in black clothing. How she ended up in that condition, here at the Crimedog Motorbike Casino, was strange. Stranger still was what people said about the scuffle… apparently over something big. The strangest of all that was what happened after she had woken in the interrogation room.

“Here’s the tape, ma’am.”

The suspect was seated, collapsed over the table, in the interrogation room. Locked from the outside. Officer Stanley stood in the otherwise empty room and watched. The suspect shuffled at the knock and sat up in the chair. 

“You must find it before the others do!”

She waved her arms, fell out of the metal chair, and landed on her face. There was a loud crack. She jumped back up into the chair just as suddenly as she fell. One of the lenses of her expensive sunglasses was now cracked. 

“No! I must find it!”

Officer Stanley remained calm with her hand resting on her pistol holster. The suspect shook her head violently, then slammed her hands on the table. Blood spilled out from her bare hand and seeped through her singular glove.

“Calm down. Now tell us what happened out-“

The suspect jumped up from the chair. Her glasses fell, revealing bright purple eyes. Officer Stanley remained calm, not breaking eye contact or emotion, drew her firearm from the holster, but didn’t point it at the suspect.

“I must get out of here!”

The suspect waved her arms around. The bright lights in the interrogation room dimmed and what looked almost like a purple fog appeared around the suspect’s eyes. Officer Stanley pointed her firearm at the suspect.

“Not before you answer my questions!”

The lights turned off for a split second and when they returned the suspect had vanished. Officer Stanley stood still and pointed her firearm around the room. The door is reinforced steel. No movement. The suspect was… gone.

“Hmm… so she’s back from the mission.”

Top brass showed up at our humble desert casino. We’re miles off the main drag. We heard their helicopters about one hour after the event, followed by the footsteps of about ten soldiers and one decorated leader.

“What was that, ma’am?”

We all crowded in the security room when suddenly the woman in the tape appeared in a cloud of purple fog. She looked just as frazzled as she did in the tape, particularly, purple strands in her black hair stuck out.

“I found it! I got it!”

Everyone in the small room looked stunned except the leader.

“Really, now, you’ve got the Meaning of Life?”

The mild purple fog suddenly disappeared.

“You doubted me?!”

Everyone looked to their leader.

“Surprised. We heard you took quite the beating for it.”

The suspect wasn’t wearing the shattered sunglasses. Her hands were no longer bloody.

“It’s all good. Turns out the Meaning of-“



Inspiration thanks to Writing Exercises: [1] [2] [3] [4]

My big goal is writing. My most important goal is writing "The Story." All other goals should work toward that central goal. My proudest moment is the most recent time I overcame some fear, which should have been today. I'm a better zombie than I was yesterday. I'm not better than you and you're not better than me. Let's strive to be better every day.