Writing Exercise: Two People

Two People Come out of a Building, from Now Write! I don’t know these people, but I kind of like them. They might have an interesting story.

The steel door slammed hard behind them, the sound reverberating down the alley and out into the night city. Startled, the woman tripped, catching herself just before she overbalanced.

The man caught her arm at the same time. “Jesus, Becky, are you really that drunk?”

Becky glared at him, her face barely visible in the weak light above the door. “I’m not the lightweight you are.” She lifted her foot to examine the waffled sole of her boot. “I think I slipped in something gross.”

As if to prove she wasn’t drunk she stood there, foot in hand, and waited while he pulled out his phone and fired up the flashlight. A skin of something greenish and glistening coated the ball of her foot. “Yep. Gross.” She dropped her foot and examined the cobblestones where she’d slipped. “Dave.”

He glanced up from his phone.

“Give me your light.”

Dave handed over the light and she shone it down, illuminating more of the skin, then she swept it up a slimy path to the source. More slime, mottled pink and minty green, more of the green skin, a smooth, yellow curve about the size of…the size of….

“Vozyjik eggs,” Dave said, his voice reduced to a whisper. Not that it would matter, vozyji didn’t stick around for the hatching, and there’d definitely been a hatching. The shell membrane all over Becky’s shoe told that tale.

Becky stared at the eggs, awed. The rest looked quiet, not like they were hatching. “Do you think we can get them home?”

Bending down, Dave stroked the line of one shell. “We can try.” He sized up his messenger bag, then took it off and started emptying it out. “At least three will fit in here.”

Becky took the stuff he handed up to her, electronics sleeves and little carry bags, mostly. “I can wrap the fourth one in my jacket, hold it like that. No one will suspect.”

“It’s not illegal, you know.” Dave finished packing up the three eggs and took Becky’s jacket for the last. “We’re not doing anything wrong.”

“I know.” But Becky’s heart was racing already, anticipating the long walk home, the potential for disaster if anyone noticed the eggs, recognized the value of the infants within. She peered at the nest, curious as to how no one had noticed the eggs. Yeah, it was an alley, but it was an alley outside a notorious bar. They weren’t the first people out the door even this evening. But the nest had been covered, and she should have remembered that from her zoology class. They buried their eggs in piles of leaves, and in the case of city-dwellers, whatever leaf-like objects were available. In this case, newspapers and discarded clothes in a pile of old brick.

“We’re going to be rich.” Dave stared at Becky, his arms full of egg.

“As long as we can get them home before they hatch.”



~ by Cheryl on February 23, 2016.

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