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One Drama After Another

“Sometimes life just loves to heap manure on you right after dropping mud on you from a great height. Thanks can only get better right?”

I wrote this story for the following prompts.
Sadje’s What Do You See – Image credit; Carter Saunders @ Undplash
Ragtag Daily Prompt — Rhetoric
Pensitivity’s Three Things Challenge — Grin – Frown – Wrinkle
Word of the Day Challenge — Breaking
Your Daily Word — Spoor
Fandango’s One Word Challenge — Rotund

One Drama After Another

“This’ll do, Rusty.” Ed nodded beyond his swishing window wipers to the red ‘Vacancy’ sign on the motel wall. Then looked in his rear-view mirror. “Told you we’d find a place.”

Rusty gave a small bark in answer. He was a rotund golden retriever. Perched on the back seat with his tongue out, he gave a doggy grin.

“Ha! Yes, I’m sure they’ll have a steak for you too.” Ed’s eyes flicked to the suitcases in the boot behind the dog and he couldn’t help but frown and sigh.

Just hours ago he’d grown tired of his wife’s usual rhetoric about who did what around the house. He couldn’t even watch an entire TV show or go down the pub one night a week without breaking Angela’s rules. Even Rusty got nagged for leaving his fur and spoor about the house. Like he could do anything about it.

Today he had enough. He told Angela too. She never replied, she simply picked up his suitcases and handed them to him.

So now here he was looking for a motel to spend the night in. At least the weather was being sympathetic. The heavy rain seemed to be nature’s sadness for him losing his home.

Clicking on his indicator, he steered his old Ford Fiesta Zetec through a large puddle and into the potholed car park. There were few cars about indicating the place was quiet. He reversed in beside a black van close to the reception door.

“Right, you stay here, Pal. I’ll see if I can procure us a room.” Ed stepped into the rain and groaned.

Rusty barked his disapproval and laid down with his chin on his paws.

“Yeah, no kidding! It’s a miserable night.” Ed closed his door and dashed to the dully lit reception. He glanced at the ‘Vacancy’ sign glowing red in the rain. ‘Even an empty motel has less vacancy than the hole in my heart,’ he thought as he pushed through the glass door daubed with circus posters. At once he noticed the bell above was hanging off as he dripped inside. ‘Not a good start for a fine establishment,’ he thought.

Reaching the dirty white-fronted counter, he looked about but could see no sign of anyone. There was no bell here, and with the doorbell broken how was he supposed to summon somebody.

“Hello!” he called.

Only the heavy patter of rain on the windows answered back.

A yawn escaped him and he rubbed his forehead. The lines gave an impression of one big wrinkle. “Bloody hell, what a mess!” He murmured before calling for help again.

The silence pressed upon his shoulders, broken only by Rusty barking twice and then falling silent.

“That’s it you go quiet, Pal,” Noticing the office door behind the desk was open ajar, he decided to investigate.

Coming around the counter, he noted the twenty-year-old proof of sale system computer and line of keys hooks beneath. Considering the motel was supposed to have vacancies, there were no keys here, only a single empty key ring.

“Perhaps they store them elsewhere for security these days,” he mused as he arrived at the office door. It was there the smell of iron assaulted his nostrils – blood — he’d know that smell anywhere.

“Hello! I’m Ed, I’m an off-duty paramedic. You need help!” he called although instinct told him something was deadly wrong around here.

Pushing through the door, he never saw the shadow pass across the glass entranceway.

Ed gasped as he took in the wrecked office. Paperwork had been tossed everywhere, desk drawers thrown askance on the floor, both the computer and an old TV were smashed. Amid them lay a man in jeans and a white T-shirt. Blood had pooled around his balding head.

“Looks like today’s going to be one drama after another!” Ed dropped to his knees as he pulled his phone from his pocket. Dialling 999, he engaged the speaker and dumped it on the desk. “Sir, can you hear me?”

“Hello, you called the emergency services how can we help?” answered a female voice on the phone.

“Hi, I’m paramedic Ed Galloway. I need an ambulance at the —” Ed groaned as he eased the man into the recovery position, “Oh, shit …” He uttered — the man was a stabbing victim.

“Sir, state your emergency please,” asked the dispatcher.

“I’m at the —”

A leather boot connected with the back of Ed’s head.

He pitched forward over the unconscious man and crashed into the swivel chairs. Feeling like his head was split in half, he lay watching the room spin around him. A shadowy figure disconnected the phone call and pocketed Ed’s phone.

“Pity ya came in here. Now ya have to bleedin’ die as well.”

“What!” Ed rolled onto his hands and knees. “Nobody has to die. You haven’t killed anybody yet.”

“He’ll be dead soon —” A car door opened and closed loudly. The man put his head out of the office door. “— enough,” he finished.

“But he doesn’t need to. You don’t need life in prison for murder either. I’m a paramedic let me help him.” Ed pleaded.

“Nah. Then ya’ll both be able to identify me.” The man stepped forward. Reeking of alcohol and with four days’ worth of stubble spiking his scarred chin, he held a menacing figure.

“Stop! See sense —Aargh!” Ed finished with a fearful cry as the attacker lunged.

Grabbing Ed’s scruff, he hauled him to his feet.

Ed watched him draw an evil, curved blade known as a Kukri. Designed for stabbing around armour, this was a knife built solely for death. “Don’t!” He warned.

“And what if I do? Can’t do much …” Both men heard a clicking sound and glanced at the door “… with ya entrails spread all over the floor now, can ya?”

“Urgh, you’ve been watching too many horror shows!” Ed stated, hiding a grin from knowing what the clicking was. “Now put me down, and dropped that bloody knife!”

“Nah, I like usin’ my baby.” The man raised the knife.

Ed would have flinched if he hadn’t seen the nose.

The blade slashed toward his neck.

Rusty leapt onto the desk and threw himself into the air. Forty-five kilos of fur, teeth, and claws slammed into the man’s back.

Ed rolled beneath the knife.

“What the faaaaa—” the man screamed as he pitched off his feet, bashed his head on the desk and crumpled to the floor.

“Thanks, Pal,” Ed said patting his soft head.

Rusty looked pleased with himself; sitting on the man’s back with his teeth inches from his neck. Nobody hurt his best friend without him having something to say about it. “Ruff!” He said with his doggy grin stretching from ear to ear.

Ed swiftly removed the knife from harm’s way and again called the police and paramedics.

The hotelier was barely alive when he was carted off to the hospital. His attacker concussed and bleeding from a collection of claw marks down his back; shouted his innocence. He was dragged into the police detention van threatening lawsuit over the dog roughly apprehending him and promising to kill him and Ed.

Rusty followed, growling at him the whole way. He barked happily as the van doors slam shut on the criminal. The officers made a fuss of him and then he returned to Ed’s side.

“Well, I’m glad that’s over, Pal.” He said scratching his ear. “The only problem is we’ll have to go find another bloody hotel now!”

The End

Don’t forget Holly Ward investigates, Stolen Treasures is out on Amazon now!

A recent bank robbery. A saddened man. A coded message. Can they all be connected?
Young Sleuth Holly Ward is determined to help the man. It’s not long before she too comes under assault from a group of dangerous individuals. In the face of intimidation, abduction and even murder can Holly solve the clues and catch the criminals before she becomes the next Stolen Treasure?

Thanks for reading my friends.

There’s more in the Poetry CornerPoetry Nook, and the Short Story Collection

Have a great day!


77 thoughts on “One Drama After Another

Add yours

      1. I have a bunch of series I haven’t finished.
        I tend to not follow writing conventions… only because I really wasn’t taught them. When I was going to school there was a push to be creative. I write what sounds good to me and hope others like it too 😀

        Liked by 1 person

      2. I hope you do finish them.

        I learned bits of writing from many places but essentially taught myself. I think we have to write what we love for us. Publication and people liking our work is a bonus.

        Liked by 1 person

      3. I go by ‘If one person likes what I wrote – even if it wasn’t me…then it was worth writing.” Blogging gives me feedback that family and friends… can’t. Since maybe they think they always have to be gracious. But then I also try to follow the adage ‘If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say it.’ – When I visit others. 😀

        Liked by 1 person

      4. I like that.

        I got told my book was so bad I should never write again in two reviews. Editors tried to rip up and rewrite my work and 3 publishers nearly destroyed me. So I feel it essential to point point out the good things and maybe offer advice in a nice way if you have to for something not so good.

        Liked by 1 person

      5. I’ve had some editors try and change my poetry. You take out a line, word or verse and it just changes the flavor. So I pretty much ignore having to go through editors. But then most of what I’ve had published is in other folks collections and mostly poetry.

        Liked by 1 person

      6. Editors and publishers make me so mad! They say, ‘ We love and want to publish your work.’ then in the next sentence ‘However there is this list of changes we need to make.’
        They should be banned from being allowed to do that unless it is just in grammar, punctuation and spelling.

        Liked by 1 person

      7. Which is why I write under a nom-de-plume! And have yet to submit longer fiction or self publish. I’ve seen what some friends have gone through. I’d rather employee someone… to do that part of the process – when I win the lottery, after I buy a ticket. At the moment blogging seems to fulfill having the ‘public read’ me. And I’ve met some really wonderful folks too. 😉

        Liked by 1 person

      8. agreed, I think thats why Holly came to me, she got me through watching and losing my grandmothers to cancer to begin with.

        All that moving must have made your characters good friends.

        Liked by 1 person

      9. I didn’t start writing flash fiction until about 10 years ago. Poetry was my emotional release.

        Tough to lose folks you love. I’ve lost too many as well… May they rest in peace.

        Liked by 1 person

      10. I always loved stories right from school. It became a bigger hobby 13 years ago and grew from there. Short stories and poetry began in blog form very recently. I already have well over 600 in that short time too Crazy!

        Liked by 1 person

      11. Poems are just very short stories – at least to me 😉 Poetry is subjective. I write something…everyday. Some days more than one thing. I stopped counting poetry years ago. I’ll tell you in an email how I keep track. 😀

        Just keep doing what you enjoy!!

        Liked by 1 person

      12. I got to visit a cave in Maui that had cave art. But it was on private land.

        There’s a series by Aual (I think) called ‘Clan of the Cave Bear’ – takes you back to that time when Neadnertahls started to mix with other humans…

        Liked by 1 person

      13. Pele is on The Big Island

        “A legend, referred to as Pele’s Curse, says that visitors who take rocks or sand away from Hawaii will suffer bad luck until the native Hawaiian elements are returned. However, while Pele is the source of a number of legends, Pele’s Curse is a relatively modern invention.”

        Liked by 1 person

      14. I know that on Diamond Head in Hawai’i that folks are allowed to look for diamonds. Turns out a few years back I think a young boy found a very valuable one. I’m not sure about what you can keep. Apparently you can…:Visitors to the park search a 37-acre field, the eroded surface of a volcanic crater, for a variety of rocks, minerals, and gemstones – and any rock or mineral you find is yours to keep.”

        Liked by 1 person

      15. I’ve found new forms to play with at MLMM – Saturday Mix by Weejars. I’m not a fan of rhyme but I’ll try most anything at least once. 🙂

        Liked by 1 person

      16. Now I have about seven or so, though some double up on the same day. So I end up mashing prompts. Not everyone likes that – they want you to devote your time to their prompt. But I am not the only one. I didn’t start prompt mashing, but it is fun to puzzle the prompts together. 🙂

        Folks keep trying to get me to do more prompts… but I think a have enough for the moment that I enjoy. Some are more popular than others. But I’m not going to be forced into doing something I’m not comfortable with.

        Liked by 1 person

      17. I have to mash prompts these days. I might get an hour or two a day to write most times and so I just cant do prompts singly anymore.

        Never be forced to do more than you wish. Thats a sure way to lose the love of writing altogether. We must keep it fun.

        Liked by 1 person

      18. Oh… those series are up in the different pages. Some of them anyway. I’ve actually gotten far enough with some of them that maybe I could finish them … 😉


        Liked by 1 person

      19. No rush – just enjoy. 🙂
        I looked into your Holly. I like cosy murder mysteries. I also enjoy the Midsummer Murder series as well as Father Brown. Sometimes something I see in them ends up in what I write 🙂

        Liked by 1 person

      20. I’m going to have to update my ‘I want’ books links… Hopefully after my home is put back together – having some repairs done this week. 🙂

        Liked by 1 person

      21. Hopefully it will start soon, so it can end.
        They aren’t here yet and it is 8:30am – And I got up early because I wasn’t sure when they’d arrive.

        Liked by 1 person

      22. I once read of a writer that had a good upbringing… saying he could convey as much as someone who didn’t… my opinion on that is; Bolderdash! If you haven’t lived through it you cannot truly relate.

        Doesn’t mean ‘they’ can’t do well, but if you haven’t fallen off a bike, you can’t tell those details properly.

        Liked by 1 person

    1. Hello, Sadje.
      Thank you so much. With my 3rd person omniscent view I try to visualise as if I’m watching the scene unfold and then project that into words whilst ensuring the characters senses add the feeling as well.

      Liked by 1 person

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