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Posted: Wed May 23, 2012 12:14 pm 
Catspaw knows all
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Here's a story I wrote a couple years ago. It's quite long. Enjoy!
Quote:
The Violin’s Secret
10:15am, New Mexico, United States, North America
Terry England inhaled deeply and blew a burst of air vertically. The air pushed against his bangs and pushed them back from his eyes. Pulling his violin back to his neck and placing his bow delicately on the strings, he began to play a jolly tune.
The small crowd of listeners soon grew louder and a few men and women put their hands together and clapped. Pennies rained into his violin case and he nodded thankfully to the givers of the change. The crowd slowly dispersed as Terry only continued to play the same song. Terry noticed that the crowd was leaving and wiggled his fingers, anticipating his next piece.
He drove down with the bow and played a piercing tune. It was played quickly and delicately, but had been written in a way that caused the hearers to jump and groan unless they were prepared. The crowd hurried away, unaccustomed to the loud and squeaky noise. Terry was just about to switch songs when a sack of change plopped into his case.
He looked up, surprised by the large amount of money. The giver’s face was tan and the eyes were a rich brown. The man was wearing a white tank top and loose jeans.
Terry took the violin from his chin and smiled. “Thank you sir.” He crouched to inspect the sack and found that it was full of gold dollars. Around eighty dollars was stuffed into the sack. Terry glanced up at the man, confused and wondering if he was being bribed to do or forget something.
“How’s business?” the man asked casually.
Terry said nothing, not sure what to say. He looked at the man’s thick arms and decided that running may be his only choice. The memory of his gymnastic classes that he had taken as a child filled him with renewed vigor and determination. Terry glanced up at a rope running from the flagpole to a nearby house. The rope was only attached to the house eight feet from the ground. With a good jump, he might be able to reach it.
The man seemed to catch Terry’s glance and reached to his jeans pocket. He pulled up the item enough for Terry to see the butt of a gun. Terry knew that he had precious little time. Grasping his violin and bow, he stood to his feet.
“You can have the violin case,” Terry whispered. “In fact, take all the money. I don’t need it.”
The man continued to stare at him as if he didn’t understand what Terry had said. The man spoke rapidly in Spanish, so quickly that Terry could only catch on word. He had said the Spanish word for Spanish. The man clearly did not understand English and had asked him to speak in Spanish.
Terry looked around, wondering if he could escape before the man grabbed him.
“You... parchments?” the man asked in broken English.
Terry recognized the voice. It was Republic Drake’s right had man: Leo Lure. The man had spoken in perfect English the last time that Terry had visited Republic’s mansion. Of course, Terry had gone there as a high-school student, not a lowly violinist.
“Parchments?” Terry asked. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”
Leo pushed past him and bent down to search the violin case. Terry jumped onto the man’s back and leapt for the rope. He grabbed it and hurried hand over hand for the top of the flagpole.
Leo tore through the violin case and scowled at finding nothing. He turned around and saw Terry with the violin and bow pressed between his neck and chest. Leo pulled the gun out of his pocket and hurried for him, lining up a shot as he ran.
The square was empty now, everyone had left when Terry’s music had begun to play. The only people were Leo, Terry, and someone hiding in the shadows of the furniture shop across the square.
Terry hurried up to the top of the flagpole and maneuvered to the other rope. In the process, the violin slipped from his grip. It dropped toward the pavement, but Terry caught it nimbly between his feet. Keeping an eye on Leo, Terry grabbed the violin bow and, reluctantly, slid down the rope using the bow as a zip line. He crashed into the roof of the furniture store’s porch and pulled himself onto the roof. He glanced over at Leo and kicked out a window pane.
Pulling himself through the window, his hand found its way to his belt and he pushed a silent alarm. In a few minutes, the FBI or CIA would be in the area to pick him up.
Bullets smashed into the ceiling and footsteps pounded through the house below. Another pair of footsteps ran out the front door.
“He has backup,” Terry snapped to himself. He heard footsteps pounding up the steps and, with nothing else to do, threw himself back out the window. He crashed onto the roof and ducked as shots flew out the window. A bullet narrowly missed his shoulder as Leo’s backup opened fire.
Terry faced the window and saw Leo burst into the room. Terry grabbed the drainpipe that ran at the corner of the wall and shimmied the dozen feet to the roof. He pulled himself onto the slanted roof and hurried around to the other side.
He was panting now and was glad for the slight rain that drizzled down from the dark sky. Terry slid to a stop on the opposite side of the roof. The rain was causing the slate roof to the slick, but at least the rescue helicopter would not be seen in the cloud cover.
The slight sound of helicopter blades could now be heard. The rain started to pour heavily and Terry knew that the helicopter would not dare to land in this area. He would have to get on the helicopter without it landing. A rope appeared out of the clouds in the distance. Terry stared out and pressed himself against the roof.
The rope was quickly moving forward, marking the presence of the helicopter. A gunshot suddenly broke a slate beside Terry’s head. He looked down and saw Leo aiming up another shot. Terry saw the rope and scowled as he ran to the opposite side of the roof. The rope hung over Leo’s side of the roof and Leo paused in his shooting.
The rope drifted over Terry’s side of the house, but Terry didn’t dare grab it. Then, just as the rope dropped away from the house, Terry dashed and leapt out for it. He grabbed it with his hands and wrapped his legs around it. His broken violin bow disappeared from view as he ascended into the clouds.



11:03am, New Mexico, United States, North America
Terry sat in the temporary office of George Cold. “Yes sir, I have the information you want. It is with my violin.”
“Where is your violin?” George asked.
Terry paused for a moment. “Well, I had it with me when I ran from Leo. It must be in the helicopter.”
“That has been investigated,” George replied. He leaned forward. “Where is it?”
“My violin must still be back in the square,” Terry muttered.
“Where you left it for Leo and company to find,” George snapped.
Terry was taken aback. “What? No! I don’t have anything going with Leo and his cronies! I want Republic busted just as much as you.”
“Then why don’t you have the information?”
“I must have dropped it when I was escaping.”
“A likely story, but I won’t hold that against you. I have decided to give you another chance.”
“I’ll get that violin back.”
“Of course you will. Still, it may be tricky and I can’t afford to have you fail this time.”
“This time? I’ve only failed once before and that was on this mission! Otherwise I have done everything you have asked and more. When you get that information that is on the violin you will find out that I have come through this time as well.”
“If I get the information.”
“You will.”
“Don’t be so sure. My scouts told me that Leo’s helpers took it back to Republic’s fortress.”
“I can go in as a student.”
“Sorry, but that won’t work. No one is allowed to go in or out. No tours, no bribes, no nothing. We can’t even get a fly in there let alone a human.”
“Then how am I getting in?”
“Patience, Terry. I have a plan.”

12:00am, New Mexico, United States, North America
Terry dropped silently through a cloud, his hang glider barely making a sound as he floated above Republic Drake’s fortress. The fortress was marked out with security all around. Giant walls surrounded the outside, by land it was nearly impossible. By air, it was merely unlikely.
Terry grabbed the pole to the left of him which held the ‘eject’ button. When he pressed that, he would fall to the ground with nothing to keep him up. Still, there was a plan for that. Terry glanced behind him and saw Frank Plop holding his rope tightly. Terry gripped an identical rope in his right hand. Then, he threw the end of the rope and felt it tighten around an electrical spike at the top of the fortress’s main building. A searchlight passed over him, revealing nothing except a slight gleam that came from both men’s eyes. Other than their eyes, they were completely covered in black.
Terry pushed the eject button and swung on his rope. He swung toward the building as his hang glider floated away on the wind. Terry slammed into the side of the building and the air was knocked from his lungs. He hung there for a second, breathless, then slowly opened the window. No alarms went off.
So far, so good.
Terry opened his pocket knife and cut a large enough hole in the screen for him and Frank to fit through. He squeezed through and rolled forward. Frank jumped through and dashed down the hall. Terry followed. Frank entered a room and came back out with the violin.
Terry snatched it from him and hurried down the hall. He came to a place where the hall split to the right and to the left. He turned to the right and saw motion back where Frank stood. He turned and saw Frank raising his pistol, ready to shoot.
Terry jumped to his right and the bullet smashed into the window, shattering it and raising the alarm. Terry charged down the hall. He heard Frank behind him and spun around, his pistol to Frank’s head. He shoved him against the wall and glared at him.
“You work for Republic?” Terry snarled.
“In a manner of speaking,” Frank replied.
“Where is Republic?”
“Not here.”
“What do you mean?”
“He never lived here.”
“What?”
“Republic never used this place, it was a decoy!”
Terry stared at Frank. A guard dashed up the hall. Terry hurried away, leaving Frank behind. Fleeing down the hall and crashed out a window and grabbed his hang glider. It wasn’t his. It was Frank’s. Terry’s hang glider had never returned to pick him up. Somehow, Republic had a mole other than Frank.

12:28am, New Mexico, United States, North America
Terry stormed into George’s office. George turned around and looked up at Terry. “Your back.”
Terry laughed. “Yeah, I’m back. I want to know why Frank is bad.”
“Frank? What do you mean ‘he is bad?’”
“He tried to shoot me.”
George looked at Terry in shock. “He put a gun up to you?”
“Yeah-” Terry froze. “No.”
“What?” George asked.
Terry started to back out of the room, but was stopped by George pulling a gun on him. “Don’t leave just yet.” George smiled coldly.
“That’s what he meant.” Terry bit his lip.
“Toss me the violin.”
Terry threw it at him and George caught it with his free hand. He placed the violin on the table. “I have to admit, I couldn’t find anything on this violin. I searched the case, I searched the violin, I even searched you! No parchments. Where are they?”
“Burned.”
“What? I went to all this trouble to get some destroyed parchments?!”
“Yeah, sorry to disappoint you.” George, or Republic, walked toward Terry. “If the parchments are burned, then why is the violin so important?”
“Figure it out.”
“Terry, you seem awfully smug for someone about to die.”
“Me? About to die? Whatever do you mean?”
Republic stared at Terry. “I’m going to shoot you. You are not going to survive this encounter.”
“Better shoot me quickly then,” Terry replied. “I’d say you have about fifteen seconds.”
“What?” Republic stared at Terry. Terry crossed his arms instead of holding them down at his sides. Republic looked closely at Terry’s grinning face, then felt dread creep down his spine. “You pushed the emergency button.”
“Freeze!” fifteen FBI agents shouted. “You, Republic Drake, are under arrest for various crimes.”
“Bingo,” Terry grinned.
A few minutes later, after Republic had been taken away, the leader of the FBI agents turned to Terry. “Where did you hide the manuscripts?”
“They are burned, as I told Republic,” Terry replied.
“Why was the violin so important?” the FBI agent asked.
Terry stepped over to the violin and carefully removed the bottom. He pulled the hollow inside and showed the inside of the violin.
“I don’t see anything,” the agent remarked.
Terry pointed to small, dark, glittery things that blended in with the violin’s darkness. Only if it was held in the light could you see the microchips that were fastened on the inside of the top of the violin. They had been inches away the entire time and nobody had ever noticed. “These microchips hold all the information.”
The FBI agent stared at Terry, amazed. “You are one good agent, England.”
“Thank you,” Terry bowed.
The End

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My blog: http://www.jessericebooks.blogspot.com Where I talk about stuff and the book(s) I've published.


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 Post Post subject: Re: Story
Posted: Wed May 23, 2012 12:40 pm 
Blissfully Oblivious
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Gripping. Once I started this piece, I had to finish. The descriptions and actions were quite vivid. The first paragraph was particularly well-written. Bravo.

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 Post Post subject: Re: Story
Posted: Wed May 23, 2012 12:46 pm 
Catspaw knows all
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I'm going to stop living for God and start living with Him.

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Seriously? I wrote a gripping piece? Awesome!
This makes me reconsider being a writer for a living... \:D/

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 Post Post subject: Re: Story
Posted: Wed May 23, 2012 3:51 pm 
Country Girl
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Passed her drivers test! Whoop!

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That was really good! I really like the plot twist at the end, and like OTR said, I had to finish it \:D/

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