Hey guys! I hope you had a wonderful holiday!
I’ve been really absent from the blog for a while – and it’s only going to get worse! With New Years Eve and New Years Day happening this week, this is the only post you’re getting from me. And, when I have the baby (whenever THAT ends up being), I’ll be MIA for a while. I’m sure you guys will get an announcement, but I can’t promise you’ll get any articles of true substance. I’ll be sleep deprived after having a newborn, after all.
My dad is also going to be in town for a couple of weeks to help me with the baby (assuming, of course, this baby shows up when he’s expected to and not really late). That will also put a damper on whether or not I’m posting, even if I don’t have the kid yet.
Anyway, that’s all for the updates – here’s today’s Monday Muse! The prompt says “cop,” but I decided to ignore that part because I have a character I want to use for this who isn’t a cop and I do what I want.
“You’re a cop on the ledge of a building, trying to convince a girl not to jump.”
–1,000 Awesome Writing Prompts
“Get away from me!”
The woman’s voice was almost lost to the wind. It pulled her words away from Noah’s ears and out into the bright morning sky, where they mingled with the roaring of the rush hour traffic below. Noah stepped further out onto the ledge. She wrapped her fingers around the curtain just within the window behind her.
How many stories up were they? Fourteen? Fifteen? Definitely enough to kill someone if they happened to fall. Or jump.
“I’m just here to talk,” Noah said. The woman cast a dark look over her shoulder. Noah wasn’t even sure she’d heard her. Sirens were trilling up from the street now. Someone had noticed the two women standing on the edge of a building and finally decided to call someone about it. Flashing lights gathered below them. A muffled voice called up through a megaphone, but Noah couldn’t make it out–not that she was trying very hard.
Instead, she sat down on the edge and dangled her feet into the open air. The smog from the city was thick here. It made her nose twitch. She glanced over at the woman and snuck a quick peek at the numbers ticking by above her head.
Five minutes. Noah had five minutes to save this woman’s life.
She’d done more in less time.
“I don’t want to talk.”
Several long seconds had passed since Noah had said anything. She’d almost repeated herself when the woman’s voice finally came through. It was quiet, garbled by the noise pollution around their heads, but Noah heard her.
Noah shrugged. The woman didn’t budge. Her body was rigid–her fists clamped so tightly Noah could see the bones outlined against the white skin along the back of her hands. Her long, dark hair whipped around her head, but it didn’t hide the tears brimming at the corner of her eyes, or the firm setting of her lips.
“We don’t have to talk, then,” Noah said. She leaned back against the building. Her left hand still held onto the curtain, as though the rod’s fittings would even be enough to keep her from tumbling down to the concrete below if she happened to fall. “I’ll just sit here with you.”
For the first time, the woman looked over to Noah. Her eyes narrowed, but her mouth softened.
“Because no one deserves to die alone.”
Noah gently kicked her heels out. Back and forth. They swung over the gathering crowd, over the blaring red and blue lights and gasps and calls. The woman didn’t move. A tear fell down her cheek. The clock above her head went from three minutes and twenty seconds to five minutes again.
When she still didn’t speak, Noah cast her a smile and said, “That’s what you’re here to do, right?”
The woman averted her gaze to her feet and turned her head back out toward the city. The police called up to them again. Their megaphones made their voices sound somehow even more distant, more disconnected from the intimate scene above them.
“I don’t know why I’m up here.”
Noah watched her clock tick upward again. Seven more minutes.