Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction

Five Rounds

I looked out the window and saw something that would change my entire life. At first, I wasn't too sure about it, my hesitant nature caught up with me, tugging at brain, screaming at my mind, begging me to be realistic, to use common sense. But in the end the boredom of my robotic daily lifestyle gave way to an inner flame of intrepidness that was finally lit by a small spark of inspiration.

It was a sign, no not that symbolic kind of sign, like watching the sunset and then concurring that a supernatural sign of hope was thus revealed to me, no, it was a real sign. An advertisment to be exact. I was doing my rounds in the damp, cold halls of the biomedical genetic engineering facility that long suppresed my former dreams of the adventureous life of a policeman, all I ever did was do those cursed rounds in that god forsaken science mumbo jumbo place. I didn't even see the reason in having a patrol specifically for one single science facility, but then again, I was able to sneak in a couple of donoughts to satisfy my dull job.

The sign was far away, I could barley make out the words, "live your life today!", it was lit up in a vacant highway long abandoned by the growing city of London. Curiosity got the best of me, and plucked up my courage to venture out the in the freezing air to get a better view at this marevlous revelation. It was actually an advertisment to go to classes. Cooking classes actually.

I checked my watch, 11:3o. I had time to spare. I got in my pathetic moped and traveled to the sign, and hurridley scratched the adress on my forearm. The next moring I walked in to the educational facility and inquired about taking classes.

She took my breath away.

I don't know wheather it was the lavish attire she was in, her tangy red dress and dangling silver earrings. Or whether it was her hair, such lush red perfection of shining beatuty. Or her posture, a majestic pose of untold glory. But as soon as I saw her, my heart started pumping uncontrollably and I frantically wiped away the crumbs of my the jelly filled doughnout I ravished on my way there.

"Um...hello?"

She giggled. "My name is Carol Watlther, but call me Natalie."

"Uh...hi there Carol...oh I mean Natalie, um, I was actually here to um...sign up for some classes..."

"Oh great! Your name?"

"Oh! I'm Joe, yeah I'm Joe Gillards."

"Well Joe, what can I do for you, what classes are you particularily interested in taking?"

"Um, the sign said cooking..."

"Colonery Arts then huh? Well I can sign you up that in a jiffy."

Before I knew it I was signed up for Beginner Cook, Beyond PB&Js, and Zesty Chef twice a week, Tuesdays and Fridays.

The next night we went on a date.

I was finally living my life. Going to those classes and seeing the love of my life every night brought a light step into my once grey life, and my job, alothough consisting of the same dull routine, was somehow transformed. Either I was thing of Natalie, or I was thinking of Natalie.

But one night, it all changed.

I was doing my regular shifts, yet the other patrol guard decided to switch it up a bit, so he went inside the claustrophobic halls of the research facility and I found myself in the golf cart, doing rounds in the parking lot, huddling my self in the thick winter jacket.

I was on my fith round when I heard a staticty voice on my police radio.

"Joe, Joe! Are you in? Copy"

"Rojer that, Reynold is that you? What's going on?"

"We have a suspect of a jewlery robbey of coming your way, apparently this guy was pretty ambitious, stold over one million dollars in diamonds and rubies, rings neckalces and everything else. The cops lost the thief, but the car crashed a mile from your station, kep an eye out for the thief will you?"

"Roger that..."

Suddenly I saw a figure running in the midnight moonlight, and I rushed at it with all my might. My doughnut filled stomach jiggled as I panted after the theif, but finally, I caught up with the black clother figure.

I gasped.

Her black face mask fell off when I toppled over her, and her blonde wig gave way to that all too familiar bundle of red hair.

"Joe...Joe...do we have a suspect? Have got the suspect in sight...Joe?"

I saw my lover in a new light, a mixture of confusion of fondness rumbled inside of me, "Joe...please?" Her pleading look was unbearable.

"Joe...do you read me, do you have the suspect in sight?"

I was torn.

My job and the prospect of justice toyed in my head as weeks of romance flashed before me, and I knew I had to make my decision soon as I heard the constant static of my radio and saw the sheepish stare of my once most fond lover.

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