Write on Edge Prompt: Crossing The Line

Wow.  Life has gotten hectic lately.  I've had some drafts for the last few prompts but I wasn't able to get them done in time to post them.  Maybe I'll eventually get them up still.  Anyways, this week's prompt was quite interesting to me.  The instructions were as follows:

This week we’d like you to write a fiction or creative non-fiction piece about a time someone crossed a line, legally or ethically. Explore the motivation of your character and possibly the consequences of his or her actions.

The word limit is 450, so come back Friday and share what you’ve written.

My mind immediately went to a scene from the story I wrote for NaNoWriMo 2011 where my main character is struggling with an ethical dilemma.  No matter what he chooses, he has to violate some of his own ethical code.  Any constructive criticism is much appreciated, but please remember, this is a piece of a scene from a much longer work.  The word count is at 446 so I gave you as much of the relevent scene as I could.  I would love feedback on the realism of the characters, or at least what you can get from them in this little bit, and the flow of the dialogue.  Thanks and enjoy!

 “I am not going to like what you’re about to say, am I?” Shawn asked, his arms propped on his knees, still holding his shirt in one hand squinting up at Eli.

             “Not really.  I wish it could be different but I can’t change it,” Eli took a deep breath before continuing, “Shawn, I can’t do this.  I don’t know what the real agenda is with this mission, but it isn’t what they told us.  Everything I’ve found here so far goes against what the intel told us.  The more I think about it the more I realize so many missions seemed off but I never questioned them before.  I won’t be a party to killing anyone anymore.  Not like this.”

Shawn hung his head and sighed, “Damn, man.  You’ve always had a knack for doing something big when you decided to do it.  How are you planning on keeping Carlton ‘n’ me from getting caught up in this?  How are you planning on keeping yourself alive long enough to do anything about your crazy idea?  I assume that is where your mind is currently going on this subject.”

“I have thought about how to keep you and Carlton out of the mess.  If you didn’t like what I just said, you’re going to like this even less.”

“Shit.  Let’s hear it.”

“I plan on making it look like I went rogue, jumped each of you, beat the shit out of you and left you tied up for dead.  Then I’ll take off into the surrounding area and hide for a while.”

“What about your tracker?” Shawn asked, not even phased by Eli’s plan so far.

“I’ll have to dig it out.  I’m just really glad right now that they implanted them in our forearms rather than, say, the middle of our backs.”

“You’re certifiably crazy, you know that, right?” Eli just grinned as Shawn continued, “Check my room before you go.  You’ll find some things in there you might want.”

“Thanks, man.”

“Don’t thank me.  I’ll probably end up being assigned to hunt your ass down.  I won’t enjoy it, but I don’t have much of a choice.  I have got to stay in if I want to get out from under the bullshit that they pulled on me a couple of years back.”

“It’s messed up that the only way they’ll let you clear your name is to complete a term of service in a branch where you most likely won’t survive the service.”

“But it wraps it up in a nice, neat package, doesn’t it?  They don’t have to worry about me talking and I’ll get a nice hero’s funeral when I’m dead.”

Write On Edge Prompt: Dusseldorf Opening Line

For Friday, I challenge you with this opening line:
“It was a rainy night in Dusseldorf…”
You have 500 words.


This was quite wide open.  I am thinking of turning this into an ongoing story, posting pieces as they come to me.  Let me know what you think.

It was a rainy night in Dusseldorf, where I found myself sitting at the Tir Na Nog for a meeting with my contact.

‘Kinda ironic’, I thought, ‘Here I am sitting in an Irish bar in the middle of Germany.  Worse yet – I’m meeting a Brit.  What the hell am I doing here without backup I can trust?’

“Pardon me, might you be Emma?” a smooth, British baritone voice interrupted my thoughts.

I looked up to see the most drop dead gorgeous man I’d ever seen.  He had to be 6’5” and absolutely ripped.  He had dark hair that just brushed his shoulders.  His sapphire dress shirt was unbuttoned at the top, revealing a perfectly golden tan that couldn’t be natural yet too good to be fake.

I blinked and had to clear my throat several times before I could answer, “Yeah.  That’s me.”

“My name is James.  I am very glad you agreed to meet me here first.  May I have a seat?”

“I’m sorry,” I said, shaking my head trying to get it back out of the clouds, “Please.  Have a seat.”

“I need to make sure you understand before we proceed that this may be a very risky venture should you choose to continue.”

I thought about what he was getting at.  I knew there were some huge risks involved.  But, I couldn’t back down after coming this far.  I had to get in with these people and find out what was really going on.  James was my ticket in and I couldn’t pass it up.

“I’m sure.  I’ve flown half way around the world tracking this thing.  There is something going on and I need to know what it is.  The trail leads to them.  I have to do this.”

“I thought you might say that.  I must caution you, though, this may not work.  They are perhaps one of the most secretive clans I know.  I can assure you that no one there would have harmed anyone.”

“Tell that to my sister.  Oh, wait.  You can’t.  She’s dead.  Her murderer’s trail leads here.  Brayden said you’d help me.  Are you gonna help or am I wasting my time?”

“Please, I meant no offense.  But, understand, things here are not the same as they are in America.  Clans like this one are not given the same freedoms here.  That has an impact on how they perceive outsiders.  But,” James stood up, “If you are prepared, we can leave tonight.  They have agreed to meet us on the outskirts of the city.”

I dropped a couple of paper bills on the table, shrugged back into my black leather jacket to protect against the still falling rain, slammed the last two swallows of my beer and gestured for James to lead the way.

He gave me a rather quizzical look before he turned and stepped out into the sodden, halogen lit German night.

“Finally,” I thought as I followed him, ‘I’ll find the ones responsible for Laura’s death.’