Roommate

Prompt #8: "The Long-Lost Roommate"

To the outside observer, it's a simple gesture. Truth is, there's a deeper hidden meaning behind the subtle nodding salutation that they give each other as they pass. It's not bromance, they aren't blood brothers, or even part of a wolf pack. No, those two gentlemen were roommates once. 

Whether it was for years, for months, or even for a few days. They shared a space commonly not much larger than a hotel room. At the beginning they upheld a sense of normalcy for each other. It was a kindness, it was polite. They used headphones when listening to music or watching movies. They kept their laundry as out of the way as possible. The beginning was a tense peace. Both held back their oddities, hoping that the other would soon show some sign of abnormality so they could breath easy, letting their metaphorical gut of uniqueness hang out.

Soon, it happened. Maybe one of them accidentally left the headphones out and their computer began playing 'My Heart Will Go On' on full volume, and they frantically muted it as the other gave them a look showing they were unsure what to think. Maybe one of them walked in as the other was just finishing getting undressed for the shower. Perhaps it was as innocent as passively quoting an obscure film and having that reference unexpectedly recognized. No matter what it was, the flood gates had opened.

They were freer now, and it was both a blessing and a curse. It freed them to show the uniqueness of themselves. One started playing an instrument the other had no idea existed... or could get so loud. The other would start displaying some figurines they had collected from a nostalgic medium they loved as a child... and they took up quite a bit of room on the shared desk. They soon found freedom to passively and actively express themselves. The figurines would get shoved aside, and soon the other one would claim to know that he had no idea putting a wooden pan-flute by the humidifier would warp the pipes.

But there is an unspoken law among them. Certain things can be said in the outside world. They can say the other one snores horribly. They can say the other one keeps a trash pile around the trash can. But certain things would stay secret to them forever. Some so secret, in fact, that even they would be hard pressed to remember what exactly they had locked so deep in the vault.

It's been decades now, and they don't speak as often as they used to, and they most certainly don't see each other nearly as often. They might meet at a party, pull each other in for a quick one-armed hug and a pat on the back. They might meet in a formal setting, and give each other a firm shake of the hand. But these meetings are always punctuated with the specific seal. The nod. The nod that they will give, no matter what the circumstances. It follows each salutation, as well as stands on it's own should they merely pass on the street someday. 

The nod that says "I acknowledge." They acknowledge all that had happened. They acknowledge the time spent. They acknowledge their perseverance. They acknowledge each other as something close to, but somehow unlike friends. It is a deeper, and somehow darker connection. One that is mentioned in passing. "He was my roommate a while back". A few anecdotal stories are told perhaps, but nothing deeper. There are stories that can only be understood by those who made them, after all.

Besides no one wants to hear about how your buddy locked you out of the room in a towel like... eleven times in a week. Why are you in a towel that often anyway? That's almost twice a day, bro. And seriously, just take the keys with you. They have hooks in the showers. It ain't hard science.

'Towed'-ally over the line.

Prompt #7 "Something that you've had stolen from you."

I don't think I've ever had something stolen from me. Not anything important, anyway, otherwise I think I would remember it. However, I do remember a time something was rightfully taken from me, but it is the closest I've come to feeling like I've been robbed.

A few years ago, I was visiting a good friend at his apartment in a town about an hour away from my home. I parked in the apartment's parking lot, as I had done at least once before, and went inside and played video/card games with him and his roommate for several hours. We decided to go out to eat along with getting some outdoor filming done, and when I was walking to their car, I noticed that mine... was missing.

For a few minutes they said that we should call the cops, and its odd my car got stolen because it wasn't a very bad neighborhood at all. Then, my friend realized that you had to have a permit to park in the lot. This was news to me, and I made it known to him that it would have been nice to know. He said it would have been. The sign that said it was a permit zone was both bent and partially obscured. We called the company and they were about thirty minutes away, and their hours of operation ended in two hours. However, they were closing early that day. I asked why. They said that they wanted to get off early. I said that they can't close early just because they want off when I have a car to pick up. They said it wasn't their problem. This angered me. In fact, I'm angry just thinking about it. What kind of horrible business plan is that? I mean, I know you aren't exactly shooting for return customers at a towing company, but come on, really?

Anyway, it cost me (read: my parents) a few hundred to get it back and it was one of the worst things that ever happened to me mostly because of the horrible service they gave, and how I now view all towing companies as horrible portals into another realm where being a complete tool is not only acceptable but encouraged.

... Anyway... that's a time something was 'stolen' from me.

Thanks for reading!
~Kyle

Ransom

"It says: 'If you want your children to be safe, call 985-655-2500 now!'" Bryce let his eyes linger on the paper for a few moments before looking confusedly at Sarah.

Sarah stood with eyes wide open and mouth agape "It's a ransom note?!"

Bryce caught onto the fear quickly. Unsure of whether to keep holding the note or toss it to the ground, he spoke frantically. "I- I don't know! It's so neat!"

"It's neat? You think it's neat?"

"No, I mean... not neat like 'Oh, cool!' I mean it's... it's typed up."

Sarah hesitated for a moment trying to understand what Bryce meant, giving him a look that questioned his sanity. Bryce spoke up again in his own defense. "Y'know, like, usually these things are made of magazine clippings and all wrinkly."

"Wha- usually?! How many ransom notes do you see on a daily basis?"

"You know, like ones in movies."

"Bryce! This is real life! This is a real ransom note! Obviously they aren't going to be as flashy as Hollywood!"

"Well, they had enough time to place a little picture of a crying girl on here. And look, even the crime watch signal is in the corner. What kind of weirdo does that? Is it like... his signature?"

"Bryce! Focus! There's something very wrong about this. Don't you get it?"

"Well, I guess it's just weird that it was on our car, since we don't have... a kid..."

"Right! So obviously it was meant for someone else!"

"Oh. Oh. ... OH! And if they didn't put it on their car, they don't know what number to call!"

Sarah was more frantic than ever, now that her fears had been confirmed by Bryce reaching the same conclusion she had. "Oh no, oh no, oh no, ohno-ohno-ohno!"

"No, no, no, calm down I'll just put it on the car... next to us." His last words deflated as he took notice of the cars that took the two spaces on either side of them. "I knew I should have taken the space at the end instead of one over! Then we'd know for sure who's car it belonged to. But no, you said to park one over so someone else could take the spot, that way no kids would hit the car with baseballs."

"Don't you dare blame this on me, Bryce! Someone's child is in trouble! We have bigger problems! Look, this is easy, all we do is call the police and let them know." Sarah pulled out her phone and began unlocking it before Bryce ripped it out of her hand in a swift movement.

"No, Sarah! What are you thinking?! If you call the police, who knows what they'll do to the kid? Then it'll be all our fault that the kid gets hurt!"

Sarah breaths in sharply and clasps her hands over her mouth. "You're right! You're so right. I'm sorry!"

"It's fine, don't worry, no damage done. What I think our only option is... is calling the number on the note. We'll tell them they made a mistake, then... we'll be off the hook."

"What?! First of all, I can't believe you would just do that and walk away without actually trying to help. Second of all, how is that idea any better? People don't just randomly steal kids for ransom, they only do that for families they know have money. Then, they scout them and make sure they know the family routines. So if they've done that, they'll know the parent's voices! What if they think they hired us as private detectives and we end up just making them have to pay more in the end, and get ourselves in danger?"

"Wha? And you said I was thinking too 'Hollywood'? Well, if that's not a good idea, then what is? We have to do something! We can't just drop the note on the ground and walk away like we never saw anything! It's our duty as good citizens to alert some kind of authority, or make someone else aware of this!"

Their raised voices battled back and forth for about a minute before a young looking man in business casual dress came from behind the tree line holding a large stack of crumpled papers. While the fight disconcerted him, he didn't see any reason to get involved, and put one of the small papers under the windshield wiper of the car next to theirs. Sarah noticed this happening behind Bryce, and watched as the young man continued doing the same for each of the cars in the row aside from their's and the one car separating them from the edge. Sarah walked over to one of the cars and pulled the paper out, and saw it was the same paper that had been in theirs. She took the paper from the next car down as well, and this time the young man took notice. "Hey! What are you doing with those!"

Sarah, still filled with emotion, but now very confused, shouted at the man. "What are these?!"

He responded a bit fearfully, but trying to maintain a business-like composure. "Flyers. I'm... just putting them on cars to raise awareness."

Bryce cut into the conversation "Awareness for what?"

"A start-up alarm system business I just got hired at. I'm going around town putting flyers in cars."

Bryce looked at the paper from his own car, not seeing a business name. "What business? There's no name on here!"

The young man flipped a paper from his stack, and scanned over it as his face turned a bright shade of red. "Oh, no... Oh, man, I'm gonna get so chewed out! Today stinks, man. First this whole stack gets blown away and I spend like ten minutes picking it all up, then this? I'm gonna have to reprint all of these!" He then went and took each of the flyers he had already put in cars and put them back into his disheveled stack.

Bryce and Sarah stood in silence watching this happen until he took out a key and entered the car that was acting as the buffer between theirs and the edge of the lot, tossing the stack into the back of the car and all but peeling out of the parking lot with a face as red as a tomato. They watched the car disappear as their heart rates slowed to a steady pace again. They both glanced at the incomplete flyer in Bryce's hand, then at each other with expressions unsure of whether or not they were willing to admit to what just happened. 

Bryce slowly opened his mouth to speak, but not knowing what to say, just tightened his lips and shook his head as if to shake off the confusion and disbelief, instead unlocking their car, and letting Sarah in. He closed her door, then walked around to his side and stepped in as well, handing her the flyer as he started the car. He began driving to the coffee shop they had initially planned to visit after their walk, and after a moment of looking at the flyer, Sarah began laughing heartily at what had just transpired, and Bryce soon joined in with her. They enjoyed the rest of the day, knowing that day was not one they would soon forget.

Prompt #6: "Write a story that begins with a ransom note"