Conscious Talk Magazine Is Live With A New Webpage! #amreading

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It’s been one full week we’ve been offline, we’ve had a revamp with a sexy new page and  some new interesting articles. The team and I will be back on the 15th with more for you to enjoy!

check us out www.conscioustalkmag.com

 

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And The Most Voted For Writing Prompt is: A Crime Scene… Damn Kim’s excited!! #kdsuspense #amwriting #crimefiction

CRIME SCENE

 

Thank you, thank you and THANK YOU!! For all your votes on Twitter and the blogs this week. This week Didi and I asked you to vote for your favourite type of movie scene.  This week we will start a story at random, with the most voted for type of scene. It was a close call between romantic comedy – first date and a crime scene.  However, a crime scene won the vote. We are SO excited,  as suspense authors we do love a bit of crime fiction. While Didi likes to write them (characters) a little psycho, I like to keep it fast paced and edgy so this should be a GOOD week, as we join forces again!  Don’t forget we’d love to see your stories , please write with us. Start your story at random with a crime scene and let us see. Post your link on one of our blogs and share with #kdsuspense. We’ll catch you Tuesday. Have a wonderful Bank Holiday weekend if you’re in the UK.

This Is How Kim & Didi’s Suspenseful Collection Works!

We never discuss beforehand how a story should go or who writes what. It’s a surprise for each other to see how their story ends, or what lands in their inbox to finish off.

This interactive writing challenge is simple and insanely creative. It’s a group effort and we are so glad to have you join in the writing fun!!  I hope you’re ready to challenge us by choosing which prompts we can transform into stellar suspense!  Give us your best shot!  You vote on our weekly prompt, and we provide the entertainment. It’s that simple!  The super easy steps are as follows:

STEP ONE: Every Wednesday we’ll post a voting poll with a few prompts to choose from.
STEP TWO: With the click of a button, you cast your vote on a prompt. (voting will stay open for three days.) Once the winning prompt is announced you can join us and write a story too. Use #kdsuspense to link in.
STEP THREE: READ AND ENJOY!  Every week on the following Tuesday we will post the short story that transformed from the very winning prompt.

Read Previous Stories Here!

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Week #2 Vol #2: Heart Of Gold Short Story #kdsuspense #amwriting

 

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Author One Scene One

Sandy sat on the bench in her usual spot, she gazed out at the ducks slashing around in the mud colored pound across from her. The park was quiet for a Monday morning. She enjoyed the moment of peace with her sunglasses lowered, as the warm spring sunshine beat down on her. This spot had quickly become her special place to think, reflect, and scan the lonely-hearts section of the newspaper. As much as she hated to admit it she longed for a date, some romance, someone to walk into her life and sweep her off her feet. Just like in the chick flick movies she was so fond of. Of course, the “insta-love” in romance novels and movies, she knew was all fictional. Every week as she picked up the free newspaper on her way to the park for her usual walk, she would hug the newspaper close to her heart hoping Mr. Right would be there for her.

She pulled out her red pen from her bag, opened the paper to page forty six, and held her breath. Chewing the inside of her lip with anticipation her brown eyes scanned the page.

“Argh too old, hmm boring, hmm not bad… I guess.”

Sandy looked down and read with interest:

Mr. Lonely: I’m not great with words but I have a kind heart and I’m looking for a special lady. I’m six foot two, brown eyes, I’d love to say I’m handsome but I’ll let you be the judge of that. I’m not perfect I have my flaws, but I know how to treat a lady. If you’d like a date get in contact.

Sandy blew out a breath of air and studied the ducks in the pound some more in deep thought. I’ll let you be the judge of that, what is he? A monster a leg missing what? She was intrigued by him, there was something about the casualness of his advert that appealed to her. At the same time, he came across as humble. She lost count of how many times she had read “I’m the man of your dreams” “Mr. Tall Dark and Handsome awaits you.”

She spotted a couple strolling hand in hand around the pound, laughing and joking to themselves, her heart sank knew she didn’t have that special someone.

***

Stephen opened up the paper and smiled at his advert, there he was alongside all the other self- proclaimed “Mr. Tall Dark and Handsome men.” He wished he could be so bold with a statement like that. He was receding in a bad way at just thirty two years old, he had cracked teeth, a stutter, and walked with a limp courtesy of a childhood accident. Yet, he lived in hope that he would find love, as deep down just as he had said in his advert, his heart was made of gold.

Putting his physical looks aside, he considered himself an intelligent geek. He was the head of IT for a telecoms company. He loved his job gigabytes and megabytes thrilled him. Rather than fast cars and sport.

He closed the paper and placed it neatly on the coffee table “another day another dollar” he said out loud, as he picked up his brief case, keys and headed out the door to work, limping every step of the way.

 

Author two Scene two

***

After pouring milk over her cold fruity breakfast cereal Sandy stood at her counter to eat, alone, as usual. The advert for Mr. Lonely stared at her from beneath a loud sparkling Las Vegas magnet on her fridge. She’d cut it out days before after reading it in the park. Everytime she mindlessly wandered in and out of her kitchen it taunted her.

 

She was yet to answer any kind of an ad, although she looked through them on a regular basis. Considering herself above the whole advert scene was proving to wear thin and age wasn’t exactly on her side. Sandy loved kids and the thought of a quiet family life was something she’d always wanted. Often times she caught herself daydreaming about it while at work. Would they have her thick unmanageable hair, or astigmatism? Would they be as close to each other as she was with Shelly, he own sister?

 

Sandy continued to stare at the ad while the last soggy bite of artificial flavor forced a path down her throat. Her fingers fiddled with her phone. The numbers were punched in, but she hovered over the send button unable to pep talk herself into following through with the call. What would I even say, she thought? And, what if he turns me down at the mere sound of my nasally voice? Just as she was about to press the send, a call came through. Saved by the bell.  

 

“Shelly!” Sandy answered, a little too excited for her sister’s distraction. “It’s about time you called me back.”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Shelly’s voice was as dry as ever.

 

It didn’t matter how close they were, Shelly was still a very busy woman. She was seven years younger than Sandy, and twice as successful. She was a section manager of local survey call center. Pulling away from the office in the middle of the day wasn’t always an easy task. That’s not to mention the fact that she didn’t care for speed dating, not one little bit. Sitting at table after table with a handful of middle aged men who never took their eyes off of her cleavage wasn’t exactly her cup of tea. More than once, she’d even ran into her own employees, now that was awkward. Nonetheless she loved Sandy. Shelly understood her sister’s concern about her biological clock, so she complied in all the tedious attempts at helping her find a soul mate – whatever that was supposed to mean anyway.

 

“So you’re coming, right?”

 

 

“I’ll be there. Noon today?”

 

“Yeah.” Sandy hated it when her sister sounded uninterested. That usually meant she’d blow her off. “Noon is in an hour, Shelly. Please don’t make me do this alone.”

 

“I’ll be there.”

 

Click. The line went dead. Sandy let out a long exasperating sigh as she set down the phone. While wrestling her hair into a loose french braid, wild curls escaping in every direction, she opted to wait on calling Mr. Lonely. His unique humility was intriguing, but actually responding to it just wasn’t on her list of priorities for the morning. It could be put off one more day, besides, maybe the speed room would bring someone a little more promising than the last giant disappointment.

 

Sandy stood tall and gilded a hand down her baby blue sundress to iron it’s wrinkles before making her way to the shoe cabinet by her front door.

***

The sun beat down violently, causing Stephen to sweat nearly to the point of profuse. He’d have a full two hour lunch break, so he chose to walk to his favorite bistro rather than drive. After limping the first of four city blocks in the summer’s heat, he’d began to question the decision. Up the street, Stephen noticed a woman. He assumed her to be homeless, as she sat on the sidewalk with a dirty blanket and tattered overnight bag at her feet. She was leaning against a brick building with a restless crying baby in her arms in the mid-day summer’s heat. The sight was much for Stephen to take in, twisting a wrench in his chest.

 

Rather than continuing on past the shops to his left he decided to make a quick pit stop. His conscious would never let him live it down, if he didn’t at least try to find something that may help this poor woman. It was a small touristy gift shop shared with a large open conference room. Several times, he’d passed by this building on his way to lunch. The ‘Speed Room’ sign dangling in one of the windows always tugged at his curiousity, but ultimately he made the consistent choice to steer clear. It was the rain gear displayed in the gift shop that drew him inside.

 

Before he could grasp the handle to walk through, the door busted open. The people shoving their way out were mostly in casual dresses and suits. Some laughed and joked amongst each other, others stared at their toes to shy to mingle. Instinctively Stephen held the door for every last one of the passers through.

 

Two women in particular caught his eye. They were the last to pass him, and both wore the grim expression of death. Obviously the speed date session had been a bust for the two, only confirming that fact that despite his efforts with the advert, he still wasn’t ready to subject himself to so many women likely to judge his limp and stutter.

 

The woman in the blue sundress caught his eye as they passed. Her soft smile formed an adorable little dimple in the center of her cheek. Their eyes locked and it caused a butterfly to escaped Stephen’s chest, flying right in her direction. She was close enough for him to intake the soft scent of citrus and fresh linen that floated from the fabric of her dress.

 

“Hi,” she mumbled in passing, the tint of her pointy ears darkened.

 

“Ma.. Ma.. Ma.. Ma’am.” Stephen stuttered wholly embarrassed.

 

Her smile only widened and the girl who looked like the younger version of herself chuckled at his speech impediment. Stephen didn’t mind, he’d been getting this reaction his entire life. Besides the girl was young, and probably very naive.

He watched the sway of Sandy’s hips as they continued down the sidewalk and across the road toward a small parking lot.

***

“Did you see that guy’s eyes?” Sandy asked her sister, as they weaved past the other cars in the lot.

 

“Who? The one in the blue and gray button up? Now he was hot!” Shelly encouraged.

 

“Nope, I’m definitely not talking about that self-absorbed windbag.”

 

“Please tell me you’re not talking about the stutter?”

 

“The stutter?”

 

Sandy raised a brow at her little sister, who was proving herself to be even more shallow than she’s already confirmed herself to be time and time again.

 

“There was something there. Something in his look,” Sandy continued.

 

“Are you sure?” Shelly leaned against her Volvo and folded her arms across her chest. “I couldn’t get past the receding hairline to notice.”

 

“You know what Shelly?” A friendly smirk grew across Sandy’s face. “I think you’re even more doomed for a lonely single life than I am.”

 

Shelly laughed freely and tossed her long silky black hair over her shoulder.

 

“The only thing I’m doomed for is a flawless sugar daddy, and the perfect boob job.”

 

Sandy couldn’t help but to share the moment, she chuckled and tossed a teasing fist at her little sister’s shoulder. Yet in the back of her mind, the dark friendly eyes of their mystery man of chivalry burned itself a permanent mark. She wrapped her arms around Shelly and thanked her for showing up despite their entire speed date being another irritating disappointment.

 

They parted ways. Sandy following her sister’s Volvo in an old broken down Satern out of the parking lot and onto the main road. Before she could fully speed off, the most touching scene played out before her eyes. It was the man with the look, that look, a look that was so familiar it stuck to every breath she exhaled, yet was different from any she’d ever been given. The man who stuttered at a mere response to her hello, and held the door for her humbly.

 

Sandy watched closely, a tear tugging at the corner of her eye, as the man limped his way to a homeless mother sitting on the sidewalk. Sandy eased her foot from the gas petal and crept past slowly as not to miss anything. The man dug into the canvas gift store shopping bag and pulled out a new yellow outfit for the infant, as well as a large water bottle for the woman which she accepted eagerly. Gulping it down in the summer heat as if she’d never tasted such a treat. Next, the bag produced an umbrella. Sandy held her breath, as well as the welling tears.

 

The man with eyes expanded the large umbrella before propping it up just right with the woman’s belongings to produce shade. Sandy’s heart melted like butter, and the moisture behind her eyes finally spilled over as the man gave the mother a hug. Finally she drove off saying to herself.

 

“God, I hope I can find a man that kind someday.”

 

For now, she’d settle for a simple phone call. She made her way home to finally respond to the ad that was plastered to her fridge. She could only hope that Mr. Lonely would have something to offer her. Something like that man with the kind dark eyes.

Kim and Didi.jpg

 

This Is How Kim & Didi’s Suspenseful Collection Works!

We never discuss beforehand how a story should go or who writes what. It’s a surprise for each other to see how their story ends, or what lands in their inbox to finish off.

This interactive writing challenge is simple and insanely creative. It’s a group effort and we are so glad to have you join in the writing fun!!  I hope you’re ready to challenge us by choosing which prompts we can transform into stellar suspense!  Give us your best shot!  You vote on our weekly prompt, and we provide the entertainment. It’s that simple!  The super easy steps are as follows:

STEP ONE: Every Wednesday we’ll post a voting poll with a few prompts to choose from.
STEP TWO: With the click of a button, you cast your vote on a prompt. (voting will stay open for three days.) Once the winning prompt is announced you can join us and write a story too. Use #kdsuspense to link in.
STEP THREE: READ AND ENJOY!  Every week on the following Tuesday we will post the short story that transformed from the very winning prompt.

Read Previous Stories Here!

Week 1 Vol #2 Short Story: I’m Back Bitches,Now Panic! #kdsuspense #amwriting

Beach

“I’m back bitches, now panic!”

 

Author One Scene One:

I can see the pride and freedom in their faces. All five of them. Wearing skimpy bikinis and swim shorts, drunk and dripping wet from their recent dip in the ocean. Beachside in Hawaii, soaking up the sun with the money I’m rotting over. Freckles and all, especially Phyllis, the hag. She’s the mastermind of their entire little group. It used to be me, until Phyllis talked the others into setting me up. The biggest heist in Scottish history, and not only did I miss out on the fun, but I was the one convicted for the crime. What’s worse, I taught them bitches everything they know. How do they repay me? By framing me for millions stolen, and leaving me to waste away behind bars like a caged animal.

And now here I am, sitting in a cell and staring at a photo of my used to be crew. They’ll pay for what they did soon. I live for revenge, it really is the only thing that’s kept my dying body afloat. I can feel the cancer spreading through me. Like spilt paint, it fills every nook and cranny and then crusts there, making it impossible to scrub out. I don’t take the medicine anymore. It only makes me feel worse, and I’ve always refused the Chemo.

There’s no way I’m going to let this sickness take my fiery hair. It’s my trade-mark, helps to distinguish both personalities I portray. To everyone close I keep it curly and wild, usually tied in a giant crazy knot at the crown of my head with zero make-up and glasses to keep my face looking average. Only the few people closest to me get the pleasure of seeing my thick fiery mane the way I really like it. Straightened or waived, it flows perfectly to the curve of my back. I use only the best product as well the top make-up.

When on a job, my looks are perfected. Completely opposite of the plain Jane, sweetie sweet little girl next door type that I come off as, at a first glance on a regular day. It’s been six years since I’ve let the fierce me roam free. Six years since I thickened and curled my lengthy lashes to frame my big green eyes. Six years since was able to paint my full defined lips with my favorite velvety shade of scarlet to match my hair. I can’t fucking wait until tomorrow. Hamish better follow through with his promises. He’s had plenty of time to prepare my goods and a fake ID to get me out of the country, and away from the parole board. I’m sure they’ll be watching me like a hawk.    

The doctor gave me a year to live, and as of tomorrow I’ll be released on ‘good behavior’. I don’t need a full year, only a couple weeks… If that… I’ll finally get my revenge, and after that I don’t care how long the cancer gives me. I only care to see those bitches dead. Every last one of them. I’ve worked at my plan since the very day of my conviction. There was no point in fighting for an appeal. I’m a trickster, the best. Rather than fighting my charges for a second round, I used my time to play the part needed for an early release. The odds were better in my favor that way, and it worked. It takes time and discipline to do what I’ve done in here.

After the first six months served, I confessed fully to the crime I didn’t commit. Then I begged for the help of a priest and a therapist to get me on the right path. After all this time of playing the part I wanted them to see. I now have both religion and mental professionals on my side. No panel of judges can argue with that, especially when paired with the pity of cancer and two years of volunteering at the prison library, as a highly trusted inmate. I haven’t allowed a soul here to see through my act. No fellow inmates, guards, priests or doctors have seen any side of me other than the one I’ve wanted them to. Six fucking years. The stupid sorry saps actually believe that I want to live out the last measly year of my life in peace before the disease rots me from the inside out. They actually feel bad for me the fools.

Thank God for Hamish and our conjugal visits. We’ve been engaged for years, but I really don’t see the point in an actual wedding. I’m just going to die anyway. For the last three years he’s been able to visit the prison every few months and fuck my brains out. All the while whispering sweet not-so-nothings in my ear. He watches them for me. He knows exactly where they go and what jobs they land. Hamish keeps me up to date on every last one of those five motherfuckers. I’m all lined up with everything I need to finish them off. They’ll be holed up in Hawaii for the next month at some top dollar resort. Won’t they be surprised to see my smiling face, years sooner than expected, and just as deadly as always.   

“Two mar’ minutes, Miss McCarmick”

The guard shouts through my bars, my name rolling off her tongue with a thick scottish twang. Her chubby fingers are gripped tightly around a short beating stick, and she taps it a few times against a metal bar to get my attention.

“Yes mum.’”

I glance up and flash her my most innocent smile.

Roberta, my cell-mate, lowers herself next to me on the corner of my rock hard poor excuse of a bed. She’s nice, well to me anyway. Sort of like a mother figure. To most of the inmates she’s a crude old bitch, never putting up with their nonsense. Most of the women here are scared out of their minds of her. To me she’s like a mama bear, which is exactly what I’ve needed.

“You remind me a’ me wee one.” Roberta told me on the day we were paired in the same cell.

A few days later she made a name for herself, by sticking a butter knife through the palm of a woman who tried to snatch a biscuit from my breakfast plate, in the mass hall. Since then no one fucks with me. It’s perfect, because of her it’s been much easier to keep up the charade. The last thing I need is to loose my teetering temper when I’m trying so hard to play a kind hearted soul.

Roberta takes the photo from my hand and stares.

“Bet yer’ ready ta’ see um’. Yeah?” She asks.

“Yes mum, I miss me’ friends dearly.” I lie.

“Looks like fun ther’ gals. I’m happy far ya luv’. Ya don-a deserve to be in har’ with the rest of us’. Yer’ too sweet far’ a place like this.”

“Wall’ anyone can change mum.” I tell her with a suggestive wink.

Roberta’s laugh roars through our cell, husky with her smoker’s scratch.

“I’m a killer love, thar’s no changin’ that.”

I give her a tight hug. Roberta’s the only person I’ll actually miss from the last six years of my measly existence. It’s funny the irony. We’ve grown close based on my alter-personalities likenesses to her daughter. Yet the real me, the one I keep locked away, is so much like her it’s almost surreal. Listening to her stories, and spending so much time with her makes me ache to let my true self out. Soon, very soon I’ll have the freedom to seek the revenge I’ve lived for. I can practically taste it on the tip of my tongue.

“I’ll miss ya’, mum.”

I let my tangled hair loose and retie it in a tighter knot on my head. A few roaming curls tickle my forehead and the back of my neck. I suck in and exhale a few deep breaths as my guard leads the way. Her round hips swing, and a long pony tail swishes back and forth. My hand cuffs itch and the loose ankle chains clatter. I can’t wait to lose this metal baggage. I don’t have to wear them often, but when visiting the board it’s a must.

I take a seat in the lone chair set out just for me. Its light metal frame sets me right in the middle of a small room, windows on both sides, and the walls are a bright daunting white. Rather than avoiding eye contact like most inmates do, I hold a kind confident gaze with the four others who sit across from me. A long table separates me from three men and one woman. All dressed in their best and ready to pass the same judgement as they already have time and time again. My release was already cleared, but the last conversation with my releasing board is required.

Judge Aiken sits in the middle. He’s a foot taller than the rest and his skin a shade darker, tanned easily by the sun. He’s not the typical Scottish man. His blond hair is cut short and his blue eyes are on full display. He’s the same Judge that put me here in the first place, and the first to suggest my freedom.

“Miss McCarmack, are ye’ ready for the big day tomorrow?” Judge Aiken says.

“Yes sir.” I smile kindly, “Thank ye’ again for the faith in me.”

“I must say, your case is one ta’ remember. I’m happy to see the change in ye’”

“So am I sir,”  I act. “I’m glad to have found God, especially with my sickness.”

“Wall’ alright then. I expect you to be on your best behavior.” His thin brows lift in slight warning.

“Yes sir.”

“And your fiance ‘as cleared all the paperwork to pick you up in the marnin”

I nod, excitement rising in my belly as I listen to the Judge.

“He is to take you straight to the halfway house. You’ll stay thar far one whole month befar’ the two of ya’ will be allowed to move together’. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes sir.”

With that all four of them give my guard a nod. This is it. It’s finally happening. This time tomorrow night I’ll be on a plane to Hawaii. Dressed to impress and with my hair and face the way I like. Those fucking whores will never see me coming. I whisper under my breath on the walk back to my cell, “I’m back bitches, now panic.”

Author Two Scene Two

***

London, Heathrow Airport, 14:00 p.m

I close my umbrella on the light rain before I walk through the doors of the busy airport, into the Departures lounge. A feeling of excitement pools in my stomach. Last time I was on a plane I was in cuffs. I was extradited from Scotland to attend my trial at the Old Bailey Magistrates court in London for a crime I never committed. Yeah, I was the mastermind behind  it, I’m a con-artist after all, but I never committed it. All I was meant to do was collect my dough, and make sure everyone got paid. Phyllis decided to change that plan, her move is totally unforgivable.

  I’ve already checked in online and printed my boarding passes. I only have hand luggage with me, I head straight to the bathroom to change out of my “uniform” of plain clothing.  

Yesterday morning I landed at my halfway house with Hamish after my release, dumped my stuff and put in an appearance with my caseworker. I pleaded a great case, oh how grateful I am to be “saved” and how the Lord will guide me from here on out, as I live out my last days while this cancer eats away at me. I threw her off scent about what my whereabouts  will be over the next week. As far as she’s concerned I’ll be bed bound with my Bible and weak tea, studying the scriptures as I  repent my sins further. It was almost too easy, this double personality comes so naturally now. I can slip in and out of it quicker than you can flick a light switch. In the late evening I sneaked out of the halfway house with my hood raised, I hot footed it over to the railway station, and jumped on the last sleeper train from Edinburgh to London. It was mind blowing to step back onto the streets of London after six years inside, the quick pace everyone was walking at, finding my way around at the train station, as I navigated my way to the airport was almost overwhelming. The good thing about London is everyone fits in, no matter who you are no one batted an eyelid at my baggy jeans and oversized jumper.

One thing you learn as a con-artist is to step into the shoes of any and everybody, and never miss a business opportunity when it looks you in the face. As I waive my way through the busy Departures lounge, filled with travellers it feels like I’m in a sardine can, I smile to myself at this thought. What other profession is there that allows you to become whoever you want to be, portray whatever personality that takes your fancy? And not be classed as a nutcase… an actor, writer, stripper maybe? I dunno, either way, all I know is sniffing out a business opportunity to rip someone off is in my Scottish blood, it’s all I know. I see a unsuspecting blonde up ahead ten paces struggling with her bags. Clearly not prepared for the likes of people like me, the perfect opportunist.

“Oh sorry ma’am I never saw you there, I beg yer pardon.”

“It’s my fault all these bags, I shudda packed a wee lighter.”

As the dumb blonde focuses her attention back on her bags I knocked over, I lightly brush past her, then casually walk away toward the bathroom. Proud of myself that I’ve still got it, as I pocket her purse in the waistband of my baggy jeans. I know, small fries pick pocketing the innocent public, too bad, maybe next time she’ll remember to zip up her bag.

***

In the spacious cubicle I kick out of my jeans and jumper, then slip into something a bit more me. Hamish is a legend, when I arrived at the halfway yesterday,  he had all my shit together just how I like it ready to go. I unzip the bag and pout happily at my outfit. Over my head I slip on a nude strappy satin flowy top, then step into a pair of  white wide legged trousers that hug me in all the right places, before they widen at the leg. On my feet I don a pair of nude peep toe four inch heels. On top I slip on a white well tailored Alexander McQueen blazer. I open up the blonde’s purse check out her ID and pocket it along with her £200.00 cash. That will come in handy. I dump her purse in the ceristine of the toilet. Now, I hope Hamish hasn’t forgot to pack my cosmetics. I can’t walk out  dressed to kill without the finishing touches. He didn’t disappoint, stashed in the Karen Millen handbag I pull out a goody bag of cosmetic treats, everything from M.A.C to Kat Von D’s liquid matte lipsticks, he went to town! I also spy my fake passport and some cash. Dumping the canvas bag with my old clothing, I leave the cubicle and  make up my face in the mirror.

Stepping out the lady’s room I feel a million dollars and much more me. I confidently strut to security  and check for my flight on the screen. I see flight LAXL19657 is not delayed, perfect. With eighteen hours of flight time from London to Hawaii  I’ll  stop off in LA, meet Hamish who flew out last night, then pick up my connecting flight direct to Honolulu Hawaii.

***

Kicking back in the business section of the plane, I recline in my seat and finally relax. I hate the way airport security always make you feel as though you have something to hide.

Six years… I say it out loud and shake my head, I can’t believe they went against me, I can’t believe they were actually brave enough. The trip down memory lane is almost painful, as I block out the pretty air hostess swaying their hips, walking up and down the aisle checking everyone is buckled up and ready to depart.

***

 Six Years Ago The Flamingo Hotel &  Casino, Las Vegas:

“Hit, gimmie a hit and be good to me pretty lady!”

You’d hardly recognise me in my uniform and wig I’d wear to work, as part of the last scam we worked on. That’s right I had to get a “job” dealing cards in the casino to get us rich. I flip over a card and place down the five of hearts, on top of the queen of spades.

“Oh sir, yer so close, what’s it gonna be?”

Hamish winks at me ready to get into character and play his role. He looks great in his white  cotton sleeveless shirt, and well cut dark jeans. His skin glows with a sun kissed tan from the Las Vegas sun. He raises his hand to annotate his words.

“Fifteen! Jesus, oh boy this is a close one. What are my chances of lady luck being on my side tonight ? Fifteen is always an unlucky one for me, I always bust. Tonight, I’m on the wide side… hit me!”

I  peek from under my lashes around me, before I switch the cards expertly with ease, then flip over a six of diamonds. The crowd  around my Blackjack table go wild and cheer.

“Twenty one sir! Lady Luck herself is at the Flamingo Hotel tonight!” I announce.

To the outside eye Hamish is a very rich man, twenty five thousand dollars richer to be exact, it appears to spectators Lady Luck is on his side. He’s just an innocent man taking his chances on the cards, just like everyone else soaking up the thrill and rush Las Vegas casinos give you.

I look on through the crowd as everyone’s distracted, celebrating with Hamish. I spy  Kim and Didi  playing their part working the casino floor.  While all eyes are on the jackpot winner by my table, wallets are being lifted left right and center. I see what everyone else doesn’t.

 I watch Kim “accidentally” rub up against  an unsuspecting tourist and spills her champagne all over him.

“Oh, shit I’m sorry mate! Clumsy me ‘er lemme help you wipe ya-self down.”

I laugh at her in my head. The amount of times I’ve heard that line. From her own jeans pocket  she whips out a handkerchief and wipes down the man’s suit. I watch her lift his wallet from his  jacket pocket, distracting him with her apologies all the while.  She totters off in her heels without flinching. She always came across as too clever for my liking  now that I think about it, after all that’s happened. The street and book smart the bitch has got a mouth on her too. London born and raised, she became part of my crew the night she earned her stripes. I crossed paths with her in the bathroom at a nightclub in the upmarket district of Mayfair, in London. The cheeky bitch had the guts to lift my wallet from me, as she brushed past. I knew  what she did it takes one con to know another. When I spun her around and confronted her, she squared off with me in the bathroom, gripped my throat, pinned me up against the wall demanding to know who the fuck I was calling a thief? Bold as brass, an Oscar winning performance she denied it all, I’ll never forget it.  I cut her a deal told her if she worked for me her days of pick pocketing would be over. She bought me a cocktail and all was forgotten.

I look over at Didi setting to work, walking past all the casino’s guests with her brown eyes darting from left to right, seeking out the perfect opportunity.

Now Didi, that bitch is crazy don’t let the pretty innocent blonde, small town girl stereotype fool you. I bumped into her late one night. I was in the right place at the right time. I saw her in action  at 2:00 a.m at a liquor store over in Utah. I watched her tiny  figure roll right up to the clerk, pull a gun out from her waistband, point it in his face as she demanded in some of the most foul language I’ve heard, to fill the bag with cash by the time she counted to three. Once her bag was full, she shot him point blank between the eyes, later she confessed it was “ just for fun” even though the register was empty. I knew right then she’d be useful. As she ran out the store with her hoodie up and cash stuffed in her bag, Hamish caught her. He passed on my message, if she’s a dab hand at  stick ups, she could make a mint working for me. If we ever had a job needing her “skill set”.

Six years ago we all had one common goal Hamish, Didi, Kim, Phyllis, Diego, and me. Make money and that’s it. We spent a good six months ripping off punters and tourists that flock the many casinos in Vegas, lifting their wallets. For our second scam, Hamish was in a different disguise twice a week, playing his special role. Turns out Kim’s a dab hand with theatrical makeup artistry, she’d turn Hamish  into different men, all different races and ages. He’d be a jackpot winner at my table, while I manipulated the cards in his favor.

Once we had our fun and pocked enough dough, I innocently resigned from my role at the casino and disappeared a very rich lady.

We spent two months hiding out in the luxury resort in Cancun, Mexico, while I formed another mastermind plan to get us even richer. I had a link on the inside over at the Royal Bank of Scotland, a London branch was our target. Back then, plan was to left as much cash as we could from the bank. No stick ups, no robbery it was all about clever money laundering. We were successful until Phyllis got greedy, she was pissed that I was due to get a bigger cut of the money, and so I should have. I was the one who masterminded the whole damn plan, and had the link. When the crew and I returned to London, from Cancun her and those two other bitches Didi and Kim dropped me right in the shit.

***

 London, six years ago, outside The Royal Bank of Scotland:

“Okay girls this is it are we ready?”

“Phyllis are you sure she’s tryin-a  con us out of our money?”

“Kim, how many times have I gotta tell yer’ ? Yes, of course she is, she’s taking a full sixty percent cut while you, me, Didi, Diego and Hamish share forty percent. Does that sound fair?”

“I just don’t think she’d do it that’s all.”

“Kim, if you’re going to pussy out then go now, we can’t afford to fuck this one up. If you can’t be the getaway driver, we’ll find someone who will and give your cut to them.”

“Didi, I’m just sayin-”

“Fuck just sayin’ Kim, you in or out?”

“You better make sure your ass don’t get caught that’s all I’m sayin’ Didi we all know how trigger happy you get. And you Phyllis, keep an eye out!.”

“I’ve held up enough liquor stores to know what I’m doing, a bank can’t be that much more harder.”

“You’re one crazy bitch, Didi”

“That’s right. Now, put the car in gear and let’s go you’re lucky I don’t know how to drive on the left or I’d do it my damn self.”

“Phyllis you got the red wigs right?”

“Of course, let’s go. This is our evidence, got to make it look like she was one of robbers.”

***

“All right bitches, everyone on the floor and put ya hands behind ya head. Nobody move.”

“You heard her people, let’s go, that gun’s loaded and she will shoot.”

“You, fill up the bag now, all them notes back there are mine ya hear me?  Not just the sterling notes if ya got any dollars up in there they’re mine too. Any funny movements ya not gonna make it home tonight ya understand?”

“C’mon c’mon hurry up already! Shit mother-fucker let’s go I anit got all day.”

 

***

Can you believe that shit?  Didi held up the fucking Royal Bank of Scotland, dressed in a red wig to put me in the picture. Phyllis was the look out, Kim she was the getaway driver. She did it too, they picked a bank located not far from the motorway on the outskirts of London, for easy access to get away. Kim put her foot down. She drove that unmarked BMW  bad ass, just over two hundred miles up the M40  from London to Manchester.  When I saw the footage on the BBC News even I was proud of her, the five-oh couldn’t keep up with her swift lane changes. She threw ‘em off they crashed into a bollard and caused a massive pile up on the motorway.

To show you the kind of crazy these bitches are they staged their own crash, with a clever car switch organized by Diego, for a cut of the money of course. Those three bitches never got caught running off with my dough, Kim got them to Manchester in one piece.  

That’s not all, the bitches left my DNA everywhere in that bank. While we were in Cancun, turns out they were plotting and collecting hair from my hairbrush, ready for the big day. That’s the only thing I can think of, when the five-oh  arrested me part of the incriminating evidence was hair DNA that put me at the crime scene. As well as Didi in her red wig. Kim, hmm like I said she always was too clever for my liking, I’d put that DNA move down to her. She is in for it once I get hold of her.

So there you have it, I went down for a crime I never committed, had no knowledge of and was never part of. All because of Phyllis and her greed.

 

As I focus my mind back to the present, I say a silent prayer to myself as we take off the runway… destination LA.

***

LAX Airport Bar:

Lynn  MCcarmack, well well look at you live and in living color.”

I sigh a breath of relief as I watch Hamish swagger up to me, with his bag slung over his shoulder.

“Hamish boy am I glad to see yer. What’s the latest?”

“Hold on, where’s your ring?”

“Hamish I’ve got it don’t worry about it, tell me what’s been going on?”

“They’re still there in Honolulu at some top dollar resort, Diego is still with them too he’s not left the girl’s side.”

“Hmm wonder why?”

“Well there’s nothing going on but you know Phyllis, once she’s got her claws in she won’t let go.”

“So what’s the plan Lynn? Once we get over to Honolulu what are you gonna do with them?”

I look Hamish square in the eye over my tumbler of whisky, I needed a little pick me up after that long flight. I narrow my eyes in deep thought.

“Hamish, trust me the question is what aint  I gonna do with them.”

“Ah- ha! Now this I gotta see, drink up our flight’s been announced.”

***

Honolulu, Hawaii

I step out the airport beaming from ear to ear, the paradise before me just adds a little sweetener to my day. Eighteen full hours in traveling, finally I’m here.

“You got the address Hamish?”

“Don’t need it, I know it like the back of my hand.”

I watch him flag down a taxi, the driver pulls over outside the Arrivals exit, and jumps out to open the doors.

“After you my sweet.” Hamish says.

I smile a sweet smile and jump in.

“Where to please sir, ma’am?”

“The Waikiki resort, I’ll give you a shout where to stop off.”

As we ride along to the resort I don’t know if it’s the almost forty degree heat, the blue sky, the sight of palm trees lined up along the street, or the thought of finally confronting my old crew members that makes my heart sing. Either way, this place is paradise. To think six years ago all this beauty would have been an everyday thing for me. The clear water, white sand, exotic locations around the world were like a second home to me, right after Scotland. The contrast of the two environments is big, I know where I’d rather be, but Scotland shaped me into who I am, and will always be home.

Thirty minutes later we step out of the taxi into the harsh midday sun, a slight breeze blows from the sea literally across the road. I look around as Hamish pays the driver, the cunts made sure the picked the best of the best, beach front, great views on what appears to be a lively strip.

“Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be Hamish.”

We walk up to the lavish complex building, white washed, sparkling windows, open front balconies. It screams glamour,wealth and money. Stopping at the gate, Hamish looks around then taps a code in on the pad, the gate opens.

“Bingo!”

“How do yer find out the code?”

“Inside job, don’t ask.”

I smirk, at Hamish, some things never change. Behind the gates a pool greets us, the luxury makes my blood boil even more, standing back in the bushes I observe what looks like an average day. Kim sitting pretty at the table with a large sun hat on, with her nose in a fashion magazine, Didi with her sunglasses low sunning herself on a lounger, Phyllis doing laps in the pool and Diego preparing a BBQ, cutting up strips of meat. Hamish and I look at each other and smile. Finally, I’ve got them, finally revenge is going to be mine. I chew the inside of my lip the feeling is so sweet.  I’ve dreamed of this day for six  years. I imagined all kinds of scenarios  for the day we finally met, never did I imagine I’d fly thousands of miles to paradise to confront them.

“Go get ‘em tiger.” Hamish teases me.

I throw my fire red mane back and strut out from behind the bushes, toward the pool area, Hamish follows behind me.

“Well, I hate to spoil the party guys is there space for one more?”

Four pairs of eyes look up at me, their mouths hit the floor. Kim raises an eyebrow in my direction, Didi puts her poker face on show. Diego reaches for a knife from the table. Phyllis almost drowns herself in the pool at the sight of me, but she’s the first to panic.

“Lynn Lynn OMG you’re… you’re… what  ya doing ‘ere you’re out early? Listen ya gotta hear me out, they made me do it, Didi an’ Kim they made up all kinda shit about you I had no choice.”

“Lying bitch, you were the ring leader! I know all about it. That’s right I’m back bitches, now panic.”

Nicely left open so we can do part two if we get a good response!!

Kim and Didi.jpg

This Is How Kim & Didi’s Suspenseful Collection Works!

We never discuss beforehand how a story should go or who writes what. It’s a surprise for each other to see how their story ends, or what lands in their inbox to finish off.

This interactive writing challenge is simple and insanely creative. It’s a group effort and we are so glad to have you join in the writing fun!!  I hope you’re ready to challenge us by choosing which prompts we can transform into stellar suspense!  Give us your best shot!  You vote on our weekly prompt, and we provide the entertainment. It’s that simple!  The super easy steps are as follows:

STEP ONE: Every Wednesday we’ll post a voting poll with a few prompts to choose from.
STEP TWO: With the click of a button, you cast your vote on a prompt. (voting will stay open for three days.) Once the winning prompt is announced you can join us and write a story too. Use #kdsuspense to link in.
STEP THREE: READ AND ENJOY!  Every week on the following Tuesday we will post the short story that transformed from the very winning prompt.

I Can’t Believe You Voted For This Writing Prompt! LOL #kdsuspense #amwriting

Between the blog polls and Twitter you all voted for this as the winning prompt, to create this week’s short story.

I’m back bitches, now panic!

Didi and I love this prompt! It really fits in well with the theme she lined up “back with a bang”,  to celebrate the return of our weekly writing challenge Kim and Didi’s Suspenseful Collection. Remember you can join in and write with us. We’d love to read your stories using the prompt. Be bold and be brave!  Thank you for all your votes! The writing has commenced, we’ll be back Tuesday with the story for y’all using this writing prompt. Have a wonderful end to the weekend.

Kim and Didi.jpg

Oi, Yeah… You. Before You Log Off Take A Look At This…. This Is The Last Call. #kdsuspense #amwriting #weekend

It’s Friday, I get it you’re about to shut down your work laptops, loosen your ties, change your killer high heels for your flats, then break out the office. It’s the weekend! The working week is done, thank God for that right? Before we get into weekend mode take a look at the votes, between Twitter votes and blog poll it looks like this one is in the lead for this to be this week’s short story writing prompt.

I’m back bitches, now panic!

Thank you to EVERYONE who has voted on either Twitter or our posts so far.  If you’ve not voted if you are in agreement for this to be mine and Didi’s  prompt to create with this week, then post the story Tuesday please give it a vote. If not and you fancy something else, give that prompt a vote below or on Twitter. Voting is working on USA time this week, Didi will close up shop by around midnight I think. That be  Saturday morning for us in the UK and Europe. Have a wonderful weekend, God it feels good to be back doing Kim and Didi’s Suspenseful collection.

 

We’re Back, The Votes Are Open…. #kdsuspense #amwriting

Didi is kicking off this week’s voting prompts! The theme is “I’m back” because we’re back. New followers join in the fun:

This is How We Roll:

We never discuss beforehand how a story should go or who writes what. It’s a surprise for each other to see how their story ends, or what lands in their inbox to finish off.

This interactive writing challenge is simple and insanely creative. It’s a group effort and we are so glad to have you join in the writing fun!!  I hope you’re ready to challenge us by choosing which prompts we can transform into stellar suspense!  Give us your best shot!  You vote on our weekly prompt, and we provide the entertainment. It’s that simple!  The super easy steps are as follows:

STEP ONE: Every Wednesday we’ll post a voting poll with a few prompts to choose from.
STEP TWO: With the click of a button, you cast your vote on a prompt. (voting will stay open for three days.) Once the winning prompt is announced you can join us and write a story too. Use #kdsuspense to link in.
STEP THREE: READ AND ENJOY!  Every week on the following Tuesday we will post the short story that transformed from the very winning prompt.
 
All comments on the story posts will be open. We love feedback, and I’m willing to bet you will never guess who wrote what!! Therein a challenge of your own! (Yes, one of us writes with  British English spelling, and one of us in American English spelling. We are well aware, and ready for some trickery. Trust me, we are brilliant at adapting styles.)

We just released an anthology of our first set of these stories and the feedback we’ve been getting is AWESOME!  So thank you everyone who has read it I’m glad you’ve enjoyed.

 

Vote Here! Below or on Twitter

 

Kim and Didi.jpg