Writing Prompt Wednesday
Mid-week writing motivation. Need a little boost in creativity? Try today's creative writing prompt:
She took the suitcase. . .
Have fun and hook us with the paragraph or page you share when you're done.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
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She took the suitcase and pushed back the cover. The clothes inside weren’t packed with any thought to neatness. They’d been crammed within an inch of their lives. Apparently she’d packed in a hurry. Pulling out garments, she gave them all a close examination, searching through pockets for any indication of her identity. The clothes all looked well made, the kind of clothes someone with money wore. She studied the style and rich material. Each would fit her to perfection, right down to the undergarments shoved thoughtlessly into the smallest corner of the case. She tossed a silk nightshirt to one side.
“I have good taste at least,” she told Molly, who chewed on the ear of a well-loved bunny.
There were three elastic pockets. Lacy pulled out a fistful of jewelry, three thick gold necklaces, two pairs of diamond stud earrings, a diamond and sapphire bracelet and four gold rings, including the missing wedding band and a diamond solitaire that had to be no less than three carats.
For a long moment she stared at the treasure, lying on the bottom of the suitcase. She had no idea of their worth, no idea if they belonged to her, though if the clothes were hers it followed that the jewelry was hers too.
Examination of the remaining two pockets revealed another stack of money and a rolled up newspaper. She smoothed it out. It was a daily paper from Portland, Maine. The headlines were about the ongoing war in the Middle East, rising gas prices, and various topics in the southern Maine area, but nothing that jumped out at her.
Aggravated, she dropped the paper back into the suitcase. When she was less tired she’d look through it more closely. Her eyes burned and she wanted sleep. She looked up at Molly. The baby had fallen asleep against her pillows, her little pink lips parted. A thread of drool perched on her little chin.
“Oh you sweet baby,” Lacy whispered. She set the discarded clothes back in the suitcase, lowered it onto the floor, then pulled the black nylon bag to her lap. As much as she wanted to sleep, she wanted to find some indication that she had a name other than the fake one. Inside was a sheaf of papers. A passport fell out and Lacy grabbed it up quickly, her heart ramming against her chest in anticipation. But when she opened it, expecting to see a photo of herself, her enthusiasm was drop kicked into despair.
The picture of a dour man stared back at her. Dark hair and eyes in a slim, elegant face. He could’ve been in his early thirties, but she wasn’t sure. She had no clue who he was. The name on the document said he was Bradley Turlington but it meant nothing to her. He had an earring in his right ear, which didn’t quite go with the clean cut image he presented. She flipped through the pages. Lots of stamps. He’d traveled everywhere it seemed, mainly to England and Spain, but there were plenty of stops in other places.
Discarding the useless item, she looked at the rest of the black bag’s contents. It was a bunch of paperwork that meant little to her, some written in a language other than English. There were two more passports though. Both of them had the same man, but his name wasn’t the same. One passport called him Jean Pierre Michel and the other Michael Wessox.
Wessox. Wesson. Lacy looked harder at the man’s photo. Was it just coincidence that she’d chosen that alias for herself? No, she didn’t recognize him. If she knew him she’d blocked him out just as thoroughly as she’d blocked out her own name.
Ceri,
Hmmm. Love the hook ending. Of course if makes the reader want to know more.
Great descriptions of her taking the clothing out and what it looked like.
Denise
She took the suitcase in one sweaty palm. Drug deals always made her nervous. All the money in one place at one time. Always seemed like a bad plan to her, but that was just the way it worked and a girl's gotta live right?
She didn't offer to shake hands and not just because her's were dripping wet, but because it always made the other parties involved uncomfortable. She had learned that lesson at great embarrassment and even greater amusement. Their faces had been hilarious!
It would be nice to live a real life episode of "Weeds" but it was no where near as dramatic and lacking the latin hotty. Well maybe that part was about to change...
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