Inside the Mystery

Today’s Bloganuary writing prompt is to write about something mysterious. I’m going to go off-script a little (again) and share something I’ve already written. The following is a passage from my mystery/thriller novel, The Grave Blogger.

He’d only stopped into Olinde’s for a moment to see if Sandra needed a ride home this evening. Her car had been acting up lately, and even though she’d worked as the receptionist / secretary at Olinde’s Mortuary for 15 years, he knew she still didn’t like being there alone. Sandra was known for being punctual; she always left work exactly at 5:00 p.m. The car’s sporadic breakdowns had forced her to wait for a ride twice, and he hated the mood that caused! It came as a surprise, then, to see his old friend casually strolling down the street just at the moment he’d looked out the window of Olinde’s elegant front door. Twenty years had gone by with no word from Jon, and now, at this moment, there he was with that woman he’d heard about. She’d been asking around about that day. He’d wondered if he needed to be concerned about her, but had mostly assumed she’d gather a few morbid facts, write a fluff piece for whatever rag she worked for, and then disappear like all the reporters before her. But now Jon was here, older but still looking much as he had in his college days. And he was with her. Why? Why now? 

He’d spent the last 7,268 days with one thought at the forefront of his mind upon waking each morning. Today, I will not play the game. Today will not be like that day. Each day, for the last 7,268 days, damnit, he’d been good. He’d rejected the game that consumed his other mind. He said no to that mind Every.Single.Day. And now Jon was here, with that woman. 

He’d be completely unable to reject the game now. He understood that one all-consuming fact as he watched them stroll so nonchalantly away. After 7,268 days, damnit, 7,268 days of being so strong and so good, they’d cancelled it all out. That other mind would not be put aside now. 

So be it. The game begins. Again. 

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