in Michigan
"You look amazing. How old are you now, twenty, twenty five?" Brian said after he kissed his mother.
"Oh, Brian. You were always good with us girls. Yet, you're almost thirty and you still don't have a wife." She scorned.
"I'm working on it, Ma. Hey, where can I put my jacket?" He asked.
"There's a closet in my room, just hang it up in there." Brian's mother replied, as she hustled off to the kitchen.
"Okay."
Brian headed towards his mother's bedroom.
The smell of perfume hung heavily in the air, like a thick fog that drifted beneath Brian's nostrils.
Good ol' Ma. Always trying to smell pretty.
Brian located the closet, and pulled open the door. As he tried to find a hanger, a load of jackets and blouses fell to the floor, displacing a folded blanket that had been perched upon a cardboard box.
When Brian squatted down to pick up his mess, he caught sight of something that had been been scrawled upon the box.
Letters from Ireland
Brian nearly blacked out.
"No. It couldn't be..." Brian said, his voice draped in disbelief.
Without hesitation, Brian ripped open the box.
Inside of the boxe's confines lay two perfectly straight stacks of stationary.
Brian picked one of the papers up.
In the left hand corner, there was a symbol of some sort. It was a four leaf clover, and underneath it were three words.
The Celtic Alliance.
His father's gang. That scum who had made his childhood miserable. His mother, always between jobs. Often, Brian would go to bed hungry, for there had been no paycheck that week.
Brian shuddered at those thoughts, and began to read the letter scrawled on the stationary.
Dear Fiona,
Things are just cheery here in the coldest freakin' part of Russia. I hope it's okay there in Boston. Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that me and my comrade Nikolai are going to be working on something BIG, so don't get worried if you don't here from me for a while. I love you, and remember to stay strong.
MR. COLTON CONNORS, OF THE CELTIC ALLIANCE
APRIL THE SIXTH, 1987
Brian nearly passed out. How could she have kept this from him? This... This was massive.
His father, was alive.
And his mother had never told him.
"Brian! What are you doing in there, son?" Brian's mother called from the kitchen.
"C-c-Coming, mom!" He replied, his voice inflected with a hint of unsureness.
Brian's head darted around, as he urgently tried to think of what to do with the letters.
Hastily, he jammed a few letters into the pocket of his jeans, hung up his coat, and closed the closet.
See more stories by Alec
Absolutely, undisputedly
Absolutely, undisputedly enthralling. Well done.
Ordinary? Get away from me before I catch it, ugh!
Wait a second. As usual,
Wait a second.
As usual, very good, as Obi states above but there's just one thing I wanted to comment on -
His father was alive. A simple statement of fact. He should doubt himself, re-check the letter, ask his mother, first. Remember, this is a detective, naturally suspicious (though I know you know that already). He can't just up-and-out admit to himself that what his mother's been telling him all these years is a lie, can he?
If you wanted to make it the opposite, have him accept it quickly, you should still give him a bit of time.
Nways, interesting idea, and welcome back,
M
Uhuh ehmm, she's right you
Uhuh ehmm, she's right you know, listen to Maryam. What she said.
Ordinary? Get away from me before I catch it, ugh!
Love it!! Today is a gift.
Love it!!
Today is a gift. That's why it's called 'the present.'