freewrite June 6, 2010

1. Piece of trash is significant

2. By the Ocean
3. It’s been found
4. A hand print
Larry roughed his elbow against the wall of the vacant beach house.  The last rays of sunlight had vanished over the far crests of the calm atlantic more than an hour ago, and the beach was silent light blue.
“Totally empty?”  Asked the voice at the other end.
“Nothing here but some fast food wrappers.”  Larry confirmed.
He grunted at the other voice twice and, looking out at the massive ocean, placed the cell phone back into his left pocket.  He cracked the sliding door to let the salty fresh breeze wash through.  Through his wide nostrils he drew it in, felt the freshness register in depths of his head he didn’t realize air went to.    
“Too bad they escaped.”  Larry murmured aloud.  No answer but the faint ticking of the mad cat-faced clock, clicking it’s tongue and tail at him.  A beach house would have been his dream home, had things gone to plan.  Maybe one just like this.  Maybe this one.  But shit, the time! He cursed.
He scrambled back out to the rented van and violently stuffed the keys into the docile ignition.
“Oh fucking-” Larry’s eyes were terrored at the flood of light his van threw into the neighbor’s upper windows.  “-hell.”  The scene went dark again.  He watched nervous for a sign of disturbance, but only the reflected moonlight stirred off the lapping waves.  He got his phone back out of his pocket, let out a deep sigh, and dialed three numbers before pausing.  Checked his side mirror.  A light grew around the bend behind, back up the way he came.  He could tell it was a car.  Shoveled himself out of the bucket seat and into the cargo bed, where a tarp would conceal him.
The crackling gravel yielded to the sound of an idling engine, and he let sweat drip from his chin to the crusted floor of the van.  A flashlight pierced the driver’s side window and wandered from the ignition, to the glove box, to the floor of the passenger side.  Then straight onto the blue tarp.  It lit up so well that Larry feared the cop could see through, make an outline of him.  This is it.  She is going to leave you now, she’s as good as gone, and you’re about to be a pincushion. Larry was breathing too heavily now.  The tarp moved a bit, but the light had shifted from him, and he laid his head down on the floor, to wait for calm.

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