| Mystery and Crime Fiction posted February 28, 2015 |
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novel-page one
The Stuntwoman
by michaelcahill
The author has placed a warning on this post for violence.
CHAPTER ONE
PAGE ONE
Escaping Death
They say my grandfather found a way to escape the hangman's noose. He made a name for himself as a stuntman in the movies. In the fifties, a stuntman was more of a daredevil to be honest. But Grandpa made a bigger name for himself as the Rio Grande Reaper. At the time, Simon Dante Bolivar held title as the most prolific serial killer in the United States. Did he manage to escape death? If you believe tales told by Texas campfires, then he's still roaming the woods waiting for his next victim.
My father did everything to shield us kids from the specter of Grandpa Simon's legacy. He changed our name to Springfield. We moved to Hollywood, movie capital of the world. Simon Springfield made his money as a stuntman, but yearned to be a legitimate actor. It never happened.
I delighted in my work as a stuntwoman. It gave Dad an ulcer.
As the paramedics arrive, I survey the scene. The crash went as planned. Everyone in the SUV is dead, so it was a successful stunt. If it wasn't I wouldn't be here. The burns and broken wrist are painful, but necessary for realism. I must look every bit the lucky victim. Grandpa would be proud.
My father always looked at us kids with a wary eye. Every naughty thing we did found its focus under Dad's microscope. Grandpa's legacy loomed in his mindset. He looked for it in our actions. With four brothers, I drew the least suspicion. It worked out well for me. My brothers were dolts and easy to manipulate. My father's belief that they might be evil and I couldn't be, well … I could get away with anything and blame them. Dad always believed his precious baby girl.
Jonah, my eldest brother, had a wild streak as they said back in the day. That meant he was irresponsible and guided by forces other than his limited brainpower. He loved me, bless his heart, and was convinced I needed protecting. I didn't discourage that notion and used it to my advantage. Jonah was large and possessed uncommon strength. Add a quick temper and protectiveness of his baby sister, well, if I didn't like you, you'd meet my big brother.
Poor Jonah, I'll almost miss him. He, at least, brought me some amusement. A shame he wasn't a brighter color in the crayon box. I couldn't risk him blathering to the cops. No telling what stupid thing he'd say. So, goodbye Jonah, Dad, all of 'em, especially that gold digging, bitch stepmom.
"Hurry, for God's sake, they're down there. The van exploded in flames! Please! My whole family…."
"Ma'am, you're injured. Let us help you. Now, lay on the stretcher."
Sure, no problemo. It's a little chilly out. I hope the ambulance is heated.
"Detective Granger, Ma'am, how'd you manage to escape the…."
"Sir, we've got to get her…."
"I just have a couple quick questions, I won't…."
"Not now, she's got to get
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CHAPTER ONE
PAGE ONE
PAGE ONE
Escaping Death
They say my grandfather found a way to escape the hangman's noose. He made a name for himself as a stuntman in the movies. In the fifties, a stuntman was more of a daredevil to be honest. But Grandpa made a bigger name for himself as the Rio Grande Reaper. At the time, Simon Dante Bolivar held title as the most prolific serial killer in the United States. Did he manage to escape death? If you believe tales told by Texas campfires, then he's still roaming the woods waiting for his next victim.
My father did everything to shield us kids from the specter of Grandpa Simon's legacy. He changed our name to Springfield. We moved to Hollywood, movie capital of the world. Simon Springfield made his money as a stuntman, but yearned to be a legitimate actor. It never happened.
I delighted in my work as a stuntwoman. It gave Dad an ulcer.
As the paramedics arrive, I survey the scene. The crash went as planned. Everyone in the SUV is dead, so it was a successful stunt. If it wasn't I wouldn't be here. The burns and broken wrist are painful, but necessary for realism. I must look every bit the lucky victim. Grandpa would be proud.
My father always looked at us kids with a wary eye. Every naughty thing we did found its focus under Dad's microscope. Grandpa's legacy loomed in his mindset. He looked for it in our actions. With four brothers, I drew the least suspicion. It worked out well for me. My brothers were dolts and easy to manipulate. My father's belief that they might be evil and I couldn't be, well … I could get away with anything and blame them. Dad always believed his precious baby girl.
Jonah, my eldest brother, had a wild streak as they said back in the day. That meant he was irresponsible and guided by forces other than his limited brainpower. He loved me, bless his heart, and was convinced I needed protecting. I didn't discourage that notion and used it to my advantage. Jonah was large and possessed uncommon strength. Add a quick temper and protectiveness of his baby sister, well, if I didn't like you, you'd meet my big brother.
Poor Jonah, I'll almost miss him. He, at least, brought me some amusement. A shame he wasn't a brighter color in the crayon box. I couldn't risk him blathering to the cops. No telling what stupid thing he'd say. So, goodbye Jonah, Dad, all of 'em, especially that gold digging, bitch stepmom.
"Hurry, for God's sake, they're down there. The van exploded in flames! Please! My whole family…."
"Ma'am, you're injured. Let us help you. Now, lay on the stretcher."
Sure, no problemo. It's a little chilly out. I hope the ambulance is heated.
"Detective Granger, Ma'am, how'd you manage to escape the…."
"Sir, we've got to get her…."
"I just have a couple quick questions, I won't…."
"Not now, she's got to get
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Word count, not including chapter title, 500 words according to Microsoft Word.
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