NaNoWriMo + @freewritehouse = #freewritemadness.

Me and 16 others are gathering at the @freewritehouse to write 50000 words in one month! I am using @mariannewest’s #freewrite prompt (https://steemit.com/freewrite/@mariannewest/day-378-5-minute-freewrite-friday-prompt-armband) and @mydivathings’ #365daysofwriting picture prompt (https://steemit.com/fiction/@mydivathings/day-319-365-days-of-writing-challenge) to help write my story.

Today’s prompts are: armband and a Photo by Jan Vanveen on Unsplash

As usual I started with the freewrite prompt and used themostdangerouswritingapp.com to write the first five minutes:

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The many torments of Tiny Earl - Chapter Three

Glenn stared at the screen. He couldn't make head nor tail of the results. He reached for the phone with one hand the other subconsciously adjusting the armband he wore underneath his shirt. When he realised what he was doing he smiled. His father wouldn't have stood for Tiny's bullshit, he thought.

His father never stood for anyone's bullshit.

Which was probably why he ended up the way he did. Poor, and alone. Sometimes you have to put up with just a little bullshit in order to get on in a world increasingly drowning in the substance.

Glenn scratched around the armband. It was irritating his skin. It wasn't meant to be worn under the shirt, dipshit. His father. You ain't got the balls to say to that rude arrogant arsehole 'my father died yesterday and I just want to pay a little respect'? No, instead you do what you always did. Sneak around, pretending to be something you're not. Hiding the true you under a crisp white shirt.

Glenn shook his head. Perhaps he shouldn't have come in today. But that wasn’t an option. Tiny - Mr Montgomery-Smyth to you, son- was very clear about what he expected from his staff.

“I don’t give a shit about your personal life, Glenn,” he’d said. “You’re cat is sick, I don’t give a fuck. Your kid has cancer, boo hoo. Your whole family died in some freak accident…” Tiny had made a show of considering it, before shrugging. “Nope couldn’t care shit. I don’t want to know you even have a personal life. As far as I’m concerned when you aren’t on duty you don’t fucking exist. Understood?”

Glenn - keeping his face as neutral as possible - had said “Yes, sir. Understood.”

He didn’t even know why he was wearing the stupid black armband.Yes he did. Of course he did. It was for his father. To show some respect.

Well, you ain’t showing respect if no one can fucking see the fuckiing thing, dipshit.

No, it wasn’t for his father. It was for him. It was to have some connection to the stuff that was happening in his personal life despite Tiny Montgomery-Smyth, despite his orders from the shop. Despite all the weird shit, the immoral things he was witness to, that he had to do, just in order to protect the greater good. Shit, did he even believe that bullshit anymore.

Trouble with you, son, is you was always ready to swallow anybody’s bullshit. They come towards you with a shovel of the stuff and you’d open your mouth real wide, swallow without chewing and ask for some more.

If only his father knew, what he really did for a living.

No, not “for a living” for a cause. For a belief. To do what was right. For the future of humanity.

Fuck, perhaps his father was right: he had overdosed on bullshit.

Glenn picked up the phone and dialed through to the lab.

“Yes,” he said. “It’s me. Can you talk me through the data you sent me?”

He listened. He’d have liked to have jotted down some notes. But both of his employers - Tiny and the shop- discouraged such practice. “Never write shit down,” Tiny had said. “And don’t put shit on computers neither. I don’t trust them. You never know who has access to your computers. Hackers and shit.” Of course, Glenn knew precisely who had access to Tiny’s computers. And if Tiny knew, Glenn wouldn’t be standing here, heart beating, lungs taking in air.

“Okay,” he said into the handset. “Can you let me know when the DNA results come through? As soon as you have them. Just call me, don’t bother sending me the data. You know how Mr Montgomery-Smyth feels about emails,” he laughed. “Yeah, I know. But look, just call me and explain them to me, would you? And make sure you use the secure line. Thanks.”

Secure line. That was a joke, too.

Glenn put the handset down, absent mindedly scratching around the armband. Coffee. That was what he needed. As he made the coffee he reviewed the information he had so far.

At six o’clock in the evening, Glenn had done a sweep of the entire house, whilst Shaun sat in the guard room watching the CCTV - and probably placing some bets on that online gambling site, he didn’t know Glenn knew about, using the smuggled in mobile phone, he didn’t know Glenn knew about. With the debt Shaun was building up, he was a security risk.

Shaun was a useful man to have around.

If things became complicated Glenn would need to have someone to blame. Shaun was the ideal scapegoat. Glenn didn’t feel bad about that, Shaun had set himself up. He knew the rules - and the risks that came with breaking those rules - as well as Glenn did.

Tiny insisted on a twice daily sweep of the house for cameras, listening devices and anything else that THEY might have secreted about the house. Tiny was paranoid. But rightly so. Glenn’s outfit weren’t the only ‘interested party’. Tiny had made a lot of enemies over his lifetime. And those that weren’t jealous were genuinely worried about the chaos Tiny could bring to this already tumultuous world. Glenn always performed the sweep himself. Always. At six o’clock in the morning, and six o’clock in the evening. He found no such devices (other than the ones he, himself, had hidden).

At around six twenty-five Shaun had contacted him.

“Something’s gone funny with the CCTV,” he said. Glenn could hear the gum in Shaun’s mouth as he spoke. It made small snapping noises. Glenn hated that sound.

“What do you mean “something” and “funny”?” he asked, hearing the irritation in his voice.

“Everything went a bit… wobbly.”

“Wobbly?”

“Yes. The screens went wobbly, and then they all went blank and then they came back on.”

“Power surge?”

“I don’t think so. Nothing has been reported, and the lights didn’t flicker. Just the screens.”

“Okay. I’m on my way back. We’ll go through the recording and see if we can work out what went wrong.”

Glenn checked his watch. His sister would be calling in an hour from now. To talk about the funeral arrangements. And to probably vent spleen. In theory he should be off duty by then. But if there was a problem with the CCTV…

Tiny’s car pulled up outside as Glenn exited the front door.

“Everything alright, Glenn?” Tiny asked.

“Yes, sir,” Glenn said. “Just doing the final checks before shutting everything down for the night.” Tiny stared at him. It was as if he could see the lies written in Glenn’s eyes. Then he nodded.

“Good,” he said. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Tiny insisted that at night he be completely alone in the property. Not even one security officer to be left on the premises. He was very insistent about that. Even when he was not at home, the building was to be empty. The CCTV was monitored remotely, and Glenn would be called if there was anything suspicious.

But if the CCTV was playing up, that would create a headache Glenn could very much do without.

He wondered if one of his devices had malfunctioned, causing some kind of interference with the main system. Glenn knew as much technical stuff as he needed to, but no more. He’d been assured by those whose job it was to know more that no such interference could take place. But technology was odd. The term phrase “gremlins in the system” appeared to have gone out of fashion. These days, people believed in “bugs” that could be fixed, viruses that could be identified, quarantined and neutralised, rather than mischievous little creatures that created mayhem in computer systems just for the hell of it. But - as Glenn knew - sometimes weird shit happened that you just could not explain. Or rather you could explain it, but in doing so, it might just turn your understanding of the world upside down.

Shaun had just about managed to hide his phone in the place he didn’t think Glenn knew about when Glenn pushed open the door to the guard room. It was located in what used to be the gamekeeper’s cottage, just out of sight of the main house. When Tiny had first employed him, Glenn had tried to persuade Tiny of the benefits of having security in the house. Should anything happen. Tiny had smiled. “I believe in having a fence at the top of the cliff,” he had said. “Rather than an ambulance waiting at the bottom.” Reacting to the puzzlement on Glenn’s face, he’d continued. “Prevention is the better option, Glenn. If someone has gained access to the house and I am in danger it is already too late. It is your job to prevent anyone getting close.”

Glenn pretended not to see Shaun’s guilty look, and pulled up a chair next to him in front of the bank of screens, each one showing a different angle or room of the house. Tiny’s room was the only room where there were no cameras (well, none that Tiny or Shaun were aware of, anyway). All the cameras appeared to be functioning correctly. And there was nothing unusual, nothing different to how Glenn had seen it a few minutes ago, when he had walked around the house.

“Show me,” he said.

Shaun nodded and used a mouse to rewind the recording. Glenn saw it before Shaun said, “There it is!”. It was as Shaun had described it. The image on all the cameras wobbled, and then all the screens went blank for a fraction of a second before coming back. Glenn had Shaun rewind, and pause the images several times, whilst he examined it as best he could.

“And it’s all functioning fine now,” he said. A statement, not a question.

“Yes.”

“Okay. I’ll contact Paul and get him to take a look tomorrow.” Paul was their CCTV man. Glenn checked his watch. His sister would be calling in a few minutes time. “You go home. I’ll call the boss and tell him about the blip, and that I’ll be staying on for an hour or so, just to check the system is okay.”

Then the phone rang. It was Tiny. Only Tiny had the number to that phone. Glenn picked it up, scanning the screens. No sign of him. Tiny must be in his room

“Glenn speaking… Are you alright sir?.. Yes, of course, sir… Six o’clock. As normal, sir…” Glenn checked his watch, “Yes, half an hour ago, sir. Yes, of course I did... No, nothing unusual, sir. Did you have something specific, in mind? Okay, I’ll be right there, sir.”

Glenn put the phone down, and started towards the door.

“You’ll need to hang on,” he said. “Don’t leave until I’ve contacted you. Okay?”

Shaun looked disappointed. He probably had a poker game to go to.

Glenn didn’t know what he was expecting. But it certainly wasn’t what he had found. So much blood. Where the hell had it come from? In half an hour and with only a fraction of a second missing from the CCTV recording someone had get into the house, not registered on any of the cameras outside the house, had managed to locate Tiny’s room and then splatter blood - Glenn imagined it had to be at least two large bucket’s full - and then disappear, again without being seen on any of the cameras inside or out.

His first thought was that this was a test. Tiny had arranged this to see how he would react in a crisis. But something - a little nagging thought at the back of his mind - told him this was not the case. That this might be the “thing” the shop had warned him about.

The coffee had finished brewing and Glenn poured him a generous mug full. He didn’t usually take sugar, but he needed the brain food so he stirred in two spoonfuls. The results from the lab had ruled out Glenn’s first thought: that the blood was animal in origin. It was human. They were sure of it. Was Tiny being set up for something? If so what?

Shit!

Glenn spilt coffee has he checked his watch. His sister would have been trying to contact him for four hours or so, now.

He didn’t have his phone with him - he never brought it on the premises. And he couldn’t use the house phone to call out. He rummaged in the drawer where Shaun hid his mobile. There it was.

“Hello?”

“Lillian? It’s Glenn.”

“What the fuck, Glenn? I’ve been trying to contact you for fucking hours. Have you changed your number, again.”

“I know. Sorry. No, I’m using someone else’s phone. I’m still at work. Something came up.”

“Something more important than burying our dead father?”

“Yes. No. Of course not. It’s just a bit complicated. Look, I’m sorry. What can I say?”

“Nothing, Glenn. Don’t bother. You always look after yourself, first and foremost. Anyway, it’s late. I haven’t got time for an argument. Look, do you know where this ‘special spot’ Dad mentioned?”

Glenn did know. His father had explained very well. He wanted his ashes to be scattered in the woods.

“There is a special spot,” he whispered, his lips dry and cracked. “Where the light filters through the trees,” he coughed, and Glenn used a tissue to gently mop the spittle from his lips. “It looks like curtains,” he laughed. “Appropriate, no?”

Apparently, this was the place where he’d proposed to their mother. The spot where he had scattered her ashes almost twenty years ago.

“Yeah,” Glenn said. “I know the special spot.”

After a few minutes of further stilted conversation Glenn made a promise - he wasn’t entirely certain he could stick to -to meet at the funeral directors in the morning. He hung up, subconsciously scratching at the armband under his shirt.

Outside the cottage a shadow shifted in the moonlight.

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