September Challenge Entries

[waschbaer]

Well, since the end of September is drawing near and I Won´t get to the internet later I fear I´ll just start off with my contribution to the challenge of this month.

I added it to LJ again, the date it the 30est ot September:

waschbaer11k.livejournal.com/

Note:
Since my exams are nearly over I´ll be around more often now

[nytecat]

Hi, here is the drabblish I wrote which I was supposed to hand in for September but never had the time to finish.

Shell

The changes were subtle at first. Not visible unless one could peer into another's soul. He should have seen it coming and he would always blame himself for that.

He should have stopped it. If he did, he would have been able to save her. If, that is, she had even wanted to be saved by then.

The leather suitcase closed with a barking snap, silencing the clattering clack of typewriters. He could feel everyone's eyes on him. Suhara sighed inwardly and focused his thoughts into stillness. When he felt his face fixed into a reserved expression, he raised his bowed head to meet the looks of the other Acme detectives.

Several looked away shamefully from his distant dark eyes. Others stared back in subdued anger. A few met his gaze with tears in their own.

In the threadbare silence, the Japanese detective picked up his suitcase from his barren desk and reached for his dark grey fedora hat. His hand stopped a finger's breadth from touching it but distance was longer in his mind. He knew if he touched it now, a tsunami of memories would overwhelm him. He stood there transfixed between desire and dread.

It seemed like aeons passed but it was only mere moments. He retracted his hand, stepped away from his desk and weaved his way to the exit of the squad room. The silenced weighed heavily with pain. 'This must be what the tiger feels like before the hunter deals his final blow', Suhara thought. Some of his comrades intercepted him to offer a hug and choke out words of consolation. He thanked them for their kindness and years of friendship.

The Chief was waiting for him at the exit. The Chief was a bluff burly man with a receding hairline of white hair and a worn face that had seen too much pain. He had been a friend of Suhara for years. Suhara knew that each creased line on that haggard face was carved by the death or lost of an Acme agent. Suhara wondered which line was his.

Wordlessly, they walked together quietly through the halls of Acme. His lighter footsteps echoing the the plodding thumps of the Chief's. If Suhara was the picture of calm, the Chief was the epitome of depression. The ex-Acme agent could feel his friend's growing despair.

So lost in thought was he that Suhara didn't realise where they were headed until they rounded a corner and came to a stop. Ahead of them was the Acme's wall of infamy. Posters of the world's most wanted criminals were displayed on it. Suhara knew that she would be there but he still had to see. Even if it meant the anguish of the betrayal branded his heart over and over and over again. It would be his penance for losing her.

The Chief, guessing his intention, tried to urge him to continue walking by reaching for his shoulder. Suhara gently brushed him off and sidestepped the burly man to see. He scanned the Wanted Wall quickly and found what he was looking for in the last row, near the end. The sight of her in that getup stopped his heart in mid-thump like it did when he first saw her in it. Somehow, the pain of betrayal was stronger than before. He wanted to scream from it. The Chief, watching him closely, saw only his eyes harden and black out.

Suhara stared at the poster for a long time. It was if he was looking at a stranger. Even in the photograph, she projected an aura of confidence in her bold blood red trench coat. Her blue smirking eyes fitted well with her gleeful gloating smile. Even the way she tipped her red hat was mocking. Suhara took a step back from the poster, trying to deny what he saw but he could not. This was her. The real her. Why could he not have seen it earlier?

But a memory blossomed within him. In his mind's eye, the former detective could remember the excited fourteen-year old he had taken to a Bon-Odori festival dressed in a red yukata. She had loved the colour red even back then.

Suhara closed his eyes to lock away the image. This was the her he wanted to remember. Not the other one.

The Chief waited patiently for him to compose himself. When he saw that Suhara was ready, they continued on and walked out the entrance of Acme. At the steps, they turned to each other.

“Well, this is it, old friend,” Suhara said after a moment, offering his hand to shake.

The Chief took it firmly. “It doesn't have to be.”

“No, it does. I'm sorry, I made my decision.”

The Chief managed a wan smile at his old friend's resolute conviction and released Suhara's hand. It seemed like the fire had not died in the old wolf yet. Now, how would he ensure it keeps burning? He crossed his arms, glanced at the bleak sky and around, casting about for inspiration but finding none.

“Anything I can say to persuade you other wise?”

“No. Nothing.”

“Some would call it cowardice. I would call them fools.”

“Thank you, Riley. You have been a good friend.”

“Damn it, Suhara! It wasn't your fault. You don't have to leave.”

“Yes, I do. You know very well why I do.”

“Well... just come back to us when you are ready, okay?”

Suhara merely nodded in response. They said goodbye, wishing each other luck. He watched the doors of Acme close behind the Chief with a sense of finality. He stared at the grey building for a moment, offering a pray for the safety of his now former comrades and then bid silently good to the place he called home for over 40 years.