| Mystery and Crime Fiction posted January 28, 2015 |
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Short Story
The White Chameleon
by michaelcahill
Darkness protects us from seeing the things we would rather not see. Darkness comes in many forms though doesn't it? There's the actual lack of light. This lady here, a stranger to me, will awaken to the trick darkness has played on her. Truly, it's more of a game. Who will scream the loudest when their evening's choices are bathed in the glorious sunshine of top of the mornin' light.
Then there are the many veils we use to cover ourselves. Guises to keep others in the dark as it were. It took a while to realize for all the lovely violet beauty of my first wife's eyes, the true pathway to her soul was the pitch-black center. That is what allowed the light in. That was the part of her eye with sight. The pretty, violet pond merely distracted me. I lost myself in it while the truth hid in the caverns behind that dark porthole. But that's a story for another time.
I'm Tony, Antonio Goldwater Balderamous to be exact. My fans know me as Rex Mantooth. You can find me most times at or near the top of the New York Times bestseller list. I write murder mysteries. Well, I'm a poet who funds their poetry by selling mass quantities of murder mysteries.
They say men have difficulty writing female characters, especially leads. Many consider me the best at depicting females in the last hundred years. You could say it's my claim to fame to coin an original phrase. I often have a female detective solving the crime and reeling in the vicious serial killer so many men before her were unable to capture.
How do I write females so well? It's quite easy. I write the part for a strong male and when I'm done, I give the character a female name. An original story about Dirk Brodsky capturing the elusive Lonely Highway Rapist becomes the same thing with Daisy Brodsky doing the capturing. Well, it's not quite that simple. I give Daisy a mean rack and a curvaceous body to take in pursuit. But, other than that, I don't change a word. Imagine Indiana Jones becoming Indiana Jane saying every word and performing every action her male counterpart did. Now, make her a dish. There you have it.
Time for more introductions later for I see a creature is stirring. Could it be a mouse?
"I peak through the curtain
for I must be certain
that the morning star's light
tells my true
although it is bright
I can tell you—last night,
that it held not a candle to you.
Good morning, my dear. I trust you slept well. I know I did."
"Well, now ain't that a big improvement over, 'there's a twenty on the nightstand for a cab, I have to get to work'. Yes sir, I did sleep like a baby. I could use a couple aspirin if you have any. Anthony, right?"
"Antonio, but my friends call my Tony. I do have aspirin, or something stronger if you prefer. Or, perhaps a mimosa is to your liking."
"A little early for a drink, not that I mind if you'd like one. Besides, it takes a lot of those little fruit drinks to get a buzz on. I take Vicodin for my back, but I'm afraid I have them at home. Something like that, or if not, a couple aspirin will do, Tony."
Too bad, she had to open her mouth. She isn't a bad old gal to look at. Well, what to do. She hasn't insulted me, my intelligence aside. No mention of my age or graying hair. No complaints about my modest dwelling here on the ninth floor. Perhaps she won't talk me into her demise. I should introduce her to Sir Galahad.
"Would you like to meet my loyal roommate? He's very quiet though he doesn't work or do much housework."
"He must be quiet. A roommate, huh? Where do you keep him? Doesn't seem like there's room for another soul in here."
I hear a squeaky little shriek as I pull the cover of Sir Galahad's cage. I suppose the hairless variety of rat is a bit on the homely side. "May I introduce my roommate and buddy, Sir Galahad."
"I don't know how to tell you this, Tony, but your buddy there is a rat. He's in need of some Rogaine too as a matter of fact. He is kind of cute in his own way. A knight, huh? Well, let's have a look."
I must say, the sight of my little companion scurrying up her arm and onto her shoulder is most surprising to me. There is no mistaking a little nervousness, but at the same time, she can't hide her fascination. I do believe she finds it endearing.
It appears the darkness of the local bar has left us both none the worse for wear. My expectations were not high regarding her physical appearance when bathed in the dawn's early. I'm not thrilled, but I'm not disappointed. Her personality though a bit crude is a surprise and a nice surprise. That makes her a candidate for inclusion in my next book. She would be pleased to know that her role in the book would be that of a living character. Of course, the victims in the book never live to tell their story. Their counterparts whom I model them after don't either. Yes, a lucky day for … well, whatever her name is.
"Do you have a nickname? What do your gal pals call you?"
She smiled. "Oh dear, for God's sake, they call me Goosey. Ha! As in Loosey Goosey. I don't know if it's better than Juicy Lucy, my school days name or not. But Lucile seems a bit stuffy, don't you think?"
"Well, I don't know. I like Lucile myself. But, Lucy seems friendlier and more like two folks having a good time. Lucy and Tony, having some fun. Lucile and Antonio, well, that sounds a little serious doesn't it. Heh, heh, heh."
Hmmm. Loosey Goosey? Juicy Lucy? Perhaps she'd make a good victim after all.
-to be continued-
perhaps…..
Darkness protects us from seeing the things we would rather not see. Darkness comes in many forms though doesn't it? There's the actual lack of light. This lady here, a stranger to me, will awaken to the trick darkness has played on her. Truly, it's more of a game. Who will scream the loudest when their evening's choices are bathed in the glorious sunshine of top of the mornin' light.
Then there are the many veils we use to cover ourselves. Guises to keep others in the dark as it were. It took a while to realize for all the lovely violet beauty of my first wife's eyes, the true pathway to her soul was the pitch-black center. That is what allowed the light in. That was the part of her eye with sight. The pretty, violet pond merely distracted me. I lost myself in it while the truth hid in the caverns behind that dark porthole. But that's a story for another time.
I'm Tony, Antonio Goldwater Balderamous to be exact. My fans know me as Rex Mantooth. You can find me most times at or near the top of the New York Times bestseller list. I write murder mysteries. Well, I'm a poet who funds their poetry by selling mass quantities of murder mysteries.
They say men have difficulty writing female characters, especially leads. Many consider me the best at depicting females in the last hundred years. You could say it's my claim to fame to coin an original phrase. I often have a female detective solving the crime and reeling in the vicious serial killer so many men before her were unable to capture.
How do I write females so well? It's quite easy. I write the part for a strong male and when I'm done, I give the character a female name. An original story about Dirk Brodsky capturing the elusive Lonely Highway Rapist becomes the same thing with Daisy Brodsky doing the capturing. Well, it's not quite that simple. I give Daisy a mean rack and a curvaceous body to take in pursuit. But, other than that, I don't change a word. Imagine Indiana Jones becoming Indiana Jane saying every word and performing every action her male counterpart did. Now, make her a dish. There you have it.
Time for more introductions later for I see a creature is stirring. Could it be a mouse?
"I peak through the curtain
for I must be certain
that the morning star's light
tells my true
although it is bright
I can tell you—last night,
that it held not a candle to you.
Good morning, my dear. I trust you slept well. I know I did."
"Well, now ain't that a big improvement over, 'there's a twenty on the nightstand for a cab, I have to get to work'. Yes sir, I did sleep like a baby. I could use a couple aspirin if you have any. Anthony, right?"
"Antonio, but my friends call my Tony. I do have aspirin, or something stronger if you prefer. Or, perhaps a mimosa is to your liking."
"A little early for a drink, not that I mind if you'd like one. Besides, it takes a lot of those little fruit drinks to get a buzz on. I take Vicodin for my back, but I'm afraid I have them at home. Something like that, or if not, a couple aspirin will do, Tony."
Too bad, she had to open her mouth. She isn't a bad old gal to look at. Well, what to do. She hasn't insulted me, my intelligence aside. No mention of my age or graying hair. No complaints about my modest dwelling here on the ninth floor. Perhaps she won't talk me into her demise. I should introduce her to Sir Galahad.
"Would you like to meet my loyal roommate? He's very quiet though he doesn't work or do much housework."
"He must be quiet. A roommate, huh? Where do you keep him? Doesn't seem like there's room for another soul in here."
I hear a squeaky little shriek as I pull the cover of Sir Galahad's cage. I suppose the hairless variety of rat is a bit on the homely side. "May I introduce my roommate and buddy, Sir Galahad."
"I don't know how to tell you this, Tony, but your buddy there is a rat. He's in need of some Rogaine too as a matter of fact. He is kind of cute in his own way. A knight, huh? Well, let's have a look."
I must say, the sight of my little companion scurrying up her arm and onto her shoulder is most surprising to me. There is no mistaking a little nervousness, but at the same time, she can't hide her fascination. I do believe she finds it endearing.
It appears the darkness of the local bar has left us both none the worse for wear. My expectations were not high regarding her physical appearance when bathed in the dawn's early. I'm not thrilled, but I'm not disappointed. Her personality though a bit crude is a surprise and a nice surprise. That makes her a candidate for inclusion in my next book. She would be pleased to know that her role in the book would be that of a living character. Of course, the victims in the book never live to tell their story. Their counterparts whom I model them after don't either. Yes, a lucky day for … well, whatever her name is.
"Do you have a nickname? What do your gal pals call you?"
She smiled. "Oh dear, for God's sake, they call me Goosey. Ha! As in Loosey Goosey. I don't know if it's better than Juicy Lucy, my school days name or not. But Lucile seems a bit stuffy, don't you think?"
"Well, I don't know. I like Lucile myself. But, Lucy seems friendlier and more like two folks having a good time. Lucy and Tony, having some fun. Lucile and Antonio, well, that sounds a little serious doesn't it. Heh, heh, heh."
Hmmm. Loosey Goosey? Juicy Lucy? Perhaps she'd make a good victim after all.
-to be continued-
perhaps…..
perhaps…..
 Recognized |
|
I saw the prompt and thought I'd see where it would take me. I didn't enter it in the contest. I'd rather have my wonderful fans read it and tell me what they think! :) I have a book with this title that this could be a prologue for, perhaps. Or, maybe this is just a stand alone story. Not sure what I'm planning to do with this. What do you all think?
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