- Posting Speed
- Multiple posts per day
- Online Availability
- 8:00 AM - 4:00 PM
- Writing Levels
- Prestige
- Preferred Character Gender
- Male
- Primarily Prefer Female
- Genres
- Political intrigue, fantasy, futuristic, sci fi lite, superheroes, historical fiction, alternate universes. Smittings of romance, but only as side plot.
PERCH◬NCE TO DRE⟁M
In Dreams As In the Real World...Nothing is Ever Quite What it Seems
-- Dean Koontz
-- Dean Koontz
Code by Elle Joyner
Dolly looked over the edge of the building and fought the sudden urge to throw up. It was more difficult than she would have liked, but there was a reminder in the back of her mind that being discovered in a puddle of vomit would exceeding mortifying, and it was enough to quell the discomfort in her stomach. Three minutes remained until the deadline. Her watch ticked away, the seconds zipping by at double speed, in time with the pounding of her heart.
He'd promised her it would work. He's assured her it was a guarantee… Still, nothing was a sure thing except death and taxes. Ironic, all things considered.
A frown across the crease of her brow, transitioning down the smooth bow of her mouth, Dolly clutched the letter tightly in her hand. The instructions were clear and concise. All it would take was a little bit of trust. Well, maybe not a little bit... He was a stranger, and if his proof had not been so impossible to ignore, she might have laughed off the idea.
Two minutes…
Dolly felt her stomach clench again as she stepped up on the ledge and grit her teeth. She'd always liked her teeth – they weren't perfect… not like the people you saw on television or in the theaters, but they were nice. Straight, white, no over bite… no chips or cracks or gaps. She wondered, idly, if she'd still have all her teeth when she landed. It would be awful, a face full of broken porcelain.
Her breath collapsing into a sigh, she shoved the letter into the pocket of her pants. She had pressed them that morning - perfect creases down the length of her long, narrow legs. It seems silly, now. Who would even notice? Would they find her and remark that 'at least she had pressed her linen pantsuit'? Not if she didn't have any teeth left, they wouldn't...
When the idea had first been presented, she hadn't thought twice about volunteering. All her life, she'd wanted to be a part of something – She'd felt the wrongness, like an ever-present fog in the air, and she had wanted so badly to change it. Now, looking down at what waited for her, she wondered if she'd made a mistake.
He'd promised it wouldn't hurt. One minute to go…
Shuffling forward, the tips of her black saddle shoes met the edge of stone barricade. She'd called her mother the night before. There were, she was sure, more difficult conversations out there, but it had certainly not felt like it, at the time. She hadn't, of course, told Mother everything. The letter had specified… Tell No One. And while she herself knew the context of the plan, the absolute importance of it being carried out to the very last second, somehow, she'd still felt like she'd be remiss in not saying goodbye.
Heart pounding, Dolly looked down at the world below, and as her thoughts came to a head she felt the burden of tears building, blurring her vision. The world swam out of focus, a watercolor streak of dull greys and blues, of the greens in the courtyard...
10 seconds.
She inched closer to the edge… her legs quivering as she stepped up on the small retaining wall. A rush of wind brought a shiver the length of her spine.
9 seconds…
Her breath caught on a sob and the letter slipped from her grasp, floating away on that breeze.
8… 7… 6... 5 seconds…
Maybe she'd pass out on the way down. Maybe she'd get to keep her teeth...
4… 3… 2…
Her watch buzzed and shutting her eyes, Dolly stepped off the roof, into thin air.
He'd promised her it would work. He's assured her it was a guarantee… Still, nothing was a sure thing except death and taxes. Ironic, all things considered.
A frown across the crease of her brow, transitioning down the smooth bow of her mouth, Dolly clutched the letter tightly in her hand. The instructions were clear and concise. All it would take was a little bit of trust. Well, maybe not a little bit... He was a stranger, and if his proof had not been so impossible to ignore, she might have laughed off the idea.
Two minutes…
Dolly felt her stomach clench again as she stepped up on the ledge and grit her teeth. She'd always liked her teeth – they weren't perfect… not like the people you saw on television or in the theaters, but they were nice. Straight, white, no over bite… no chips or cracks or gaps. She wondered, idly, if she'd still have all her teeth when she landed. It would be awful, a face full of broken porcelain.
Her breath collapsing into a sigh, she shoved the letter into the pocket of her pants. She had pressed them that morning - perfect creases down the length of her long, narrow legs. It seems silly, now. Who would even notice? Would they find her and remark that 'at least she had pressed her linen pantsuit'? Not if she didn't have any teeth left, they wouldn't...
When the idea had first been presented, she hadn't thought twice about volunteering. All her life, she'd wanted to be a part of something – She'd felt the wrongness, like an ever-present fog in the air, and she had wanted so badly to change it. Now, looking down at what waited for her, she wondered if she'd made a mistake.
He'd promised it wouldn't hurt. One minute to go…
Shuffling forward, the tips of her black saddle shoes met the edge of stone barricade. She'd called her mother the night before. There were, she was sure, more difficult conversations out there, but it had certainly not felt like it, at the time. She hadn't, of course, told Mother everything. The letter had specified… Tell No One. And while she herself knew the context of the plan, the absolute importance of it being carried out to the very last second, somehow, she'd still felt like she'd be remiss in not saying goodbye.
Heart pounding, Dolly looked down at the world below, and as her thoughts came to a head she felt the burden of tears building, blurring her vision. The world swam out of focus, a watercolor streak of dull greys and blues, of the greens in the courtyard...
10 seconds.
She inched closer to the edge… her legs quivering as she stepped up on the small retaining wall. A rush of wind brought a shiver the length of her spine.
9 seconds…
Her breath caught on a sob and the letter slipped from her grasp, floating away on that breeze.
8… 7… 6... 5 seconds…
Maybe she'd pass out on the way down. Maybe she'd get to keep her teeth...
4… 3… 2…
Her watch buzzed and shutting her eyes, Dolly stepped off the roof, into thin air.
-
Scene Objective
-
A Body in the Courtyard...
Details:
Monday
10:15 AM
Sunny - 75°Someone in the Warehouse has just committed apparent suicide by leaping from the roof. Some know her as Dorothy Whitfield, an HR representative who, up until now has shown little indication of any unhappiness. Some do not know her at all... But when her body fell to the courtyard, effectively interrupting everyone's work schedule, it became impossible to keep things quiet...
The police arrived... mulling about with very little urgency, and slowly, the crowd began to form.
Whether it was by pure curiosity or you were dragged there by a coworker, and contrary to any thoughts you might otherwise have, you find yourself drawn to the zoo happening down below…
TAGS || @CloudyBlueDay, @Nav, @rissa, @Bears, @Doctor Jax, @Joan, @Kimberlyn, @Jess Incognito,
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