Welcome to my writing corner. Here you'll find stand alone stories and tales that stretch much longer. You'll find tales ranging from medieval adventure to modern stories about real people with a sci-fi twist. If you like/hate what you read, drop me a line and let me know.

You can find the stories grouped by the labels just to the right.

Wednesday, November 4, 2009

Heist - Episode 3

The thin cards felt good in Trent’s hand. His eyes studied his three opponents, then found their way to the mound of clay chips in the center of the table.

A beefy man across from him with buzzed red hair took another moment to look down at the four sixes in his hand. “I call.”

Another burly man tossed down his hand nervously “Two pair.”

The red haired man couldn’t contain his excitement any longer, he tossed the 4 Kings down on the table and smirked at Trent. “Four of a kind!”

Trent frowned a little and leaned back in his chair, his face set in defeat. Slowly he fanned his cards out onto the table. His fake frown quickly turned to a smile, “Royal flush boys!” His thin hand shot in to sweep the chips toward his already massive stack.

“Bullshit!” the red haired man spat, “No one’s luck is that good, you’re cheating!”

“C’mon Drake, I don’t cheat, maybe you just need to find a new game.” Trent winked.

“You son of a bitch!” Drake reached to his side and with practiced skill pulled a comfortably sized handgun from its holster.

Obviously taking command from Drake the other two also pulled guns on Trent. For a long tense moment the four sat still, three guns cocked, ready to fire on Trent. “You guys are going to shoot me because you suck at poker?”

Without hesitation Trent launched himself from his seat, with his left hand he grabbed one of the men’s guns, his right hand flung the table up on its side spilling poker chips everywhere. With a quick twist he pulled the gun away from the thug and spun on the other thug, kicking the gun from his hand. Another swift kick to the man’s face and he was out cold. Trent twisted again, lunging toward the first thug, he wrapped the man’s arms behind his back with one hand and then brought his other arm around the man’s thick neck. With quick determination he placed the thug between himself and Drake.

Drake took a step back, gun trained on the entwined pair, the gun waved a bit in his hand as he tried to find a way to shoot Trent without hitting his comrade. Trent grunted as he shoved the thug into Drake, then leapt, grabbing Drake by the wrist and twisting, the black gun wrenched from his hand and fell to the floor. With the men disarmed, Trent made quick work of them, within fifteen seconds all three of his opponents lay unconscious on the carpet.

Trent rubbed his shoulder as he surveyed his work. The thin man pulled two aces he had stashed from his sleeve and tossed them on the ground before grabbing a suitcase full of cash. “My hard earned winnings.”

His feet quickly found the door as the phone in his pocket rang. His slender hands opened the phone and brought it to his ear as he closed the door behind him. “Hey Samuel.”

Monday, November 2, 2009

Heist - Episode 2

Warm light cascaded in through large windows, wide green leaves tapped gently against the glass outside as spring wind cooled the air. Two men sat in a large office, ornate oak trim hung on textured coffee walls, a warm oak desk sat between the men.

The smaller of the two had olive skin, his short black hair curled at the tips, his eyes inquisitive, yet ready to solve any puzzle laid before him. He leaned back just enough to seem comfortable without appearing lazy. “Sounds like good information.”

The larger of the two men wore a white fedora with a matching suit, thick hands protruded from the cuffs holding a large round cigar. “I wouldn’t have called you otherwise Samuel, I can afford the very best.”

Samuel reached into his pocket and pulled out a thick white envelope. “Standard fee for the information, plus five percent of the profits.”

The white suited man took a long drag from his cigar. “Ten percent of the profits.”

Samuel cocked a brow, “Seems your rates have gone up?”

“Only for you, your team can handle any score, but you’re getting reckless. You are a bigger risk now, so your premiums are higher.”

“That doesn’t seem fair, we always deliver.” Samuel knew it was a battle he’d lose, but he had to at least try.

“Fair?” The larger man chuckled, “What can I say? It’s a cut throat market.”

With a long sigh, Samuel slid the envelope across the desk over to the fat fingers. “It’s a deal then.”

Golden rings decorated the hand that grabbed the envelope without even opening it to check its contents, “Where’s the rest of it?”

“You don’t miss a beat, do you?” Samuel withdrew another envelope from his pocket and tossed it on the oak desk.

“In this business, you can’t afford to miss anything. All it takes is one slip, one mistake and you’re out of the game for life.” Fat fingers pulled the thick cigar to his lips again. “You and your crew would do well to remember that.”

Samuel nodded and stood up slowly, with two steps and a flick of his wrist the door was open and the curly haired man soon found himself outside of the beautiful, lavish home of the local mobster that people simply referred to as “The Man”.

Fountains decorated the grounds, large exotic trees stood in every corner and crevice, each blade of grass was cut to length, each flower was perfectly arranged. Samuel slid the cell phone from his pocket as he started to walk down the brick path that lead away from the mansion. His fingers dialed familiar numbers as his feet hit the ground.