Well, when I challenged you guys to finish a story for me, I hadn’t really expected you all to jump on board.
Ha. You blew my expectations out the window. XD
So! Let me introduce a new serial story, one written by the readers. 😀 The first part was published here, and this is Part 2, written by the lovely Grace A. Johnson. *round of applause*
The Prompt
Someone else always has to carry on the story. Bilbo baggins, The fellowship of the ring
The Story
Watching Dylan pack was more nerve-wracking than if she had been doing it herself. His movements were rough and jerky as he stuffed a box of bullets and an old blanket into his backpack, then pulled his Glock out of their top dresser drawer.
Norah’s breath shuddered as she took sight of the gun. Surely…
But no. She knew. Oh, how she knew. This had been her childhood, and she had been hoping–praying–for years that her son wouldn’t have to live like this too.
And yet here they were.
Dylan shoved more supplies into the backpack, from first aid to granola to lighters, before he slung it over his shoulders and reached inside their closet for–Norah gulped–his AR 15 rifle. The one he hadn’t used since…
Nope, not going there either, Nor. This is not the same. This is not the same.
How could it be? She was no longer the president’s daughter, no longer society’s it girl, no longer the most endangered girl in the country. She was just a dead man’s daughter, a retired bodyguard’s wife, and the mother of a precious sixteen-year-old boy.
A sixteen-year-old boy who’d been taken for ransom by Lord only knew who.
Just like she had been, twenty-five years ago.
“Dylan?” Her voice came out a hoarse croak, and she had to call her husband’s name again before he turned to face her.
“Yeah, babe?”
“A-are you sure…about this? Shouldn’t we j-just–”
Dylan crossed to their bed, leaning down to cup her arms, his touch firm and steady–unlike her resolve. “Norah, you know what happened last time. We can’t let them have the upper hand. We can’t give them what they want. I-I have to go in.”
“But, Dyl–you’re fifty years old. Your heart’s weak. You haven’t even fired that gun since 1997.”
“About that…” He cuffed the back of his neck, looking down as a boyishly guilty expression passed over his face. “Slade and I have been doing some target practice on the weekends…for a few years now.”
Norah sighed. She should’ve known their father-son outings weren’t to catch–and throw back–fish. But why complain now?
“D-do you really think you’re up to this? After all that happened?”
“Look, Nor, do you really think I’m gonna stand by and let some other stranger go after my son? Our son? Do you expect me to just–what? Call the cops? Call Brett and ask him to be the man I can’t? What man doesn’t at least try to rescue his own child when they’re in danger? What man doesn’t risk himself to save his son?” he boomed, stumbling away from her as he jammed his fingers through his grey hair.
He hadn’t raised his voice to her since, well, ever, and she shrank back, letting the mattress swallow her whole. “I-I’m sorry.”
Sorry that I care. Sorry that I can’t get over it. Sorry that I don’t want to lose my son and my husband.
Just like I lost my father.
“It’s okay, babe. I’m sorry. I should’ve been here. Should’ve–” He stopped, collapsed on the bed beside her, took her hands in his. “We’ll get through this. I’ll find Slade. And we’ll make it back alive. I won’t let what happened to your father happen to him, I promise.”
“I trust you, Dyl. And I’ll be praying. If there’s anything I can do–”
“Stay safe.” He lifted their entwined fingers and brushed his lips against her knuckles. “I love you, babe.”
“I love you too.” She leaned in and kissed him, savoring the taste of him while it lasted, then slowly pulled away, her hand grazing the tear stains on his chest. “And are you sure you don’t wanna change your shirt?”
He let out a rueful, breathy laugh. “A little saltwater won’t hurt me, I’m sure.”
Can we all give Grace a high-five for upping the suspense like that?! Wow. XD Ahem. Keep in mind that there have been four parts written already, including mine. The last one is here if you want to write off of that. 😀 Try to keep your piece under 800 words, tho. 😉
Until next time,
Take courage, pursue God, and smile while you still have teeth!!! 😀
~Joelle
(P.S. I need your help. I’m running out of ideas as to what to post in the Authorized Personal Only space. XD So, if you have suggestions/wants/needs, or just want to have a say in what goes on over there, please fill out this form. Danke! :D)
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