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Iron Quill (Time and Lies): Finding Closure


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1595 words, all ingredients used

 

"Abby, dear?"
 

"Yes Terrence?"
 

"I do believe I've solved the mystery of this broken Grandfather clock!"
 

"Oh do tell!"
 

"Abby, I believe this clock had an allergic reaction to this bullet!"
 

For the past 20 minutes a young couple had been carefully pacing around the Guild Office, examining every detail intently; the man wearing a dark grey practical looking suit and sporting well-trimmed hair and a pencil thin mustache , the woman with a loose brunette ponytail wearing a slimming mint green dress. Watching them move about and occasionally glancing at the setting sun was a third person; a Scottish officer in charge of the precinct with both arms crossed in front of his freshly laundered uniform, and an irritated tap being generated by his recently shined shoes. At Terrence's declaration, the officer cleared his throat and commented,
 

"No foolin! I guess I tagged the clock when I was SHOOTING THE BLOODY GHOST!" Terrence shook his head before saying,
 

"Geist, old sport. Of the genus Polter. Common misconception, happens all the time."
 

"Absolutely dear." Abby added, crouching to look at the floor in front of the clock. "Though if he were bloody, I shant think there wouldn't be more evidence to work with. Did you see the geist dodge the bullet, Officer MacDdonal?" MacDonal pinched the bridge of his nose as he slowly counted to ten before replying,
 

"No... I was more focused on the safety of my person because I was being attacked. Sorry to disappoint..."
 

"Ahh, none of that old sport!" Terrence interrupted. "Its like my Uncle Vance once said, 'sorries are like promises; they get bigger every time.' No point in doing some heavy sorry lifting when there's a mystery afoot!"
 

"Two feet actually darling." Abby spoke up. "It seems our geist has a taste for Guild issue boots and..." Abby licked her finger, dabbed it on the ground, then dabbed it on her tongue. "I'd say it's about a few blocks away from its appropriate haunt. How many Guild issue boots usually find their way over to the butchers Officer MacDonal?" MacDonal thought for a moment, finally glad at having tangible progress. He went to his desk and withdrew a small deep red ledger with a thin ribbon bookmark attached to it.
 

"Carlyle and... Dokes looks like it. You thinking they're trying something?" MacDonal asked, glancing between the two.
 

"Well if it walks like a duck, talks like a duck, and puts on an elaborate paranormal ruse for the past two weeks to keep people from coming to this building, I'd say it was a rather vindictive duck." Terrence offered, dusting off one of his sleeves. "And since we have rather concrete instances, I must inductively ask 'what is here that is not elsewhere?'" MacDonal mulled the question over, then instinctively reached for his pistol as the gaslights in the room flared vehemently, then died out. "I... am going to assume you are rather vigilant about the whole 'making sure your office has enough of a given resource so a dramatically appropriate act like the lights flaring out is made even more so?'" MacDonal hissed out a shush, then closed his eyes, trying to get acclimated faster.
 

"I'm also going to assume this buildings construction would prevent random drafts of cold air from otherwise convincing me of any paranomal shenaniganry." Abby offered, a faint outline in the darkness.
 

"Would you two do us all a favor and SHUSH. It's hard already trying to keep track of where you are, AND make sure we don't get attacked!" MacDonal barked.
 

"I say we could just use that ominously glowing green mist over here." Terrence replied, eliciting a grumble from MacDonal as the trio approached. The mist rested about ankle level, but steadily billowed up on itself until it stood slightly taller than Terrence. As the trio watched, the mist began to coalesce and take on a more humanoid form. As two hollowed out sockets formed for the eyes, MacDonal snapped his gun up; an action that was halted by Abby.
 

"Don't be ridiculous darling, you've murdered a clock, do you really want the death of that coat rack behind it on your conscience as well?" She asked, glancing to watch the ghost form simple digits. "Terrence dear I do believe this debunking might just have to be rebunked."
 

"You took the words right out of my mouth... And expressly in that order! Time to commune with some spirits!" Terrence said, cracking his knuckles.
 

"I'm afraid all I brought was my hat flask, and all Officer MacDonal has on tap is that DREADFUL brandy we tried about a month ago." Abby replied.
 

"I guess that will have to do, though you SHOULD consider having better liquor on tap old sport! Helps with the morale and cuts down on people willing to run from the precinct building for reasons above and beyond the ken of a normal mind's understanding." Terrence commented to MacDonal as he pulled out a salt shaker from his jacket pocket. Abby poured a few drinks while Terrence proceeded to shake an entire circle of salt around the forming creature, calmly humming a tune to himself. MacDonal stood in shock at the placid emotions the couple were displaying, finally shaking out of it when Abby offered him one of the four drinks she had made.
 

"What... Why... " MacDonal began, trying to process the oddity of the scene. Abby gently touched his shoulder and said,
 

"Best to save the questions for the geist darling, those are usually more interesting. Do you need any chalk, Terrence dear?"
 

"Way ahead of you Abby dearest." Terrence replied. "In no time at all, we'll have a brand new set of gently used supernatural answers and this troubled youngster should be well on his way towards geist graduation." Terrence carefully drew a set of runes cradling the salt circle he had made then stood, accepting the glass Abby offered as he looked at the creatures final coalescing. It was a young man, barely 15. His clothes suggested upper class, and the gaping wound in his incorporeal chest suggested how he died.
 

The creature stared at the trio with a wild gleam, causing MacDonal to take a long draw from his drink. Abby stepped forward, tightening her ponytail before saying,
 

"Spirit from beyond the darkness, we bind you. From the pacts beyond all, heed our words. We wish to have words, then if it is within our means, we will release you to your peace." The spirit stared at Abby for a moment, then the calm face seemed to melt into a confused one.
 

"I'm dead?" The spirit asked, "that... that's not... how could that be?" Abby motioned to the spirit's chest.
 

"Perhaps that would provide a hint?" She said. As the spirit looked down, the wound closed up, presenting a perfectly whole chest.
 

"What hint? What are you talking about?" The spirit asked. Abby crossed her arms and tapped her foot.
 

"Young man, I do not have the patience for falderal. Do you remember gunshots?" Abby asked. The spirit seemed to shimmer and shudder, the circle of salt vibrating. "There we are. Do you remember running from the shots? Perhaps the danger was following you?" A spark of green flame caught at the edge of the circle, beginning to swirl around and try to move the salt. "Young man, you will show me proper respect. Quit that nonsense right this instant. Now, the danger was chasing you. It was also following someone important to you?" The spirits features shifted into one of extreme agony, covering his ears with the palms of his hands as the spirit dropped to its knees.
 

MacDonal watched the ongoing scene with a mixture of fright and awe. Terrence simply patted MacDonal on the back while taking a swig from his drink. "Impressive, isn't she? That's why I married my Abby dearest." MacDonal stared incredulously at Terrence before exclaiming,
 

"She's talking to a ghost!" Terrence shrugged.
 

"Sometimes you don't need a sword when you have a sharper word." Terrence replied. "And its a geist old sport, should probably keep track of that." The two looked back with a flash of green light as the spark reached a full gout of flame with the features of the spirit stretching and writhing in pain.
 

"Young man, I will not tolerate that language! Now if you're QUITE finished, it's time. You're dead. Your death was unfortunate and heart rending, but you need to accept that. Your time on this world has wrapped up. Let the living handle the living. You just handle being dead." The spirit unleashed a window shaking howl causing Abby to shout, "Don't you raise your voice to me! I'm being perfectly reasonably polite here. Do you WANT me to do this the mean way? From what I've heard, having your entire essence run through the wringer is about as comfortable as the least comfortable thing those who regularly experience uncomfortable things... well I lost my train of thought, but the point is obvious I think. You are dead. Time to move on."
The circle exploded out with a wave of heat, knocking MacDonal down. As he stood, the couple were clinking their glasses together. "Well I believe that handles your geist problem Officer. We're off to solve an unexplained death I'd say... 30... 37 years old." Abby commented, pulling on a set of white gloves. "Let the higher ups know we wrapped the case, so there's no need to send the exorcists."
 

"Chalk up another win for Terrence and Abby Bowden!" Terrence exclaimed.

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  • 2 weeks later...

I'll hop on the congratulations train, your dialogue is sharp. I had great fun reading this story, and if you were going for a Sky Captain-esque pulp feel you nailed it. In my head the voices were all old-timey radio actors, it was great.

In the interest of providing critique, I think you could stand to look at your dialogue tags. There are a couple of times when it's not immediately clear, early in the story you have the tag, "Terrence shook his head before responding." Which I would move to the next paragraph, so that it is immediately before Terrence responds. It's just a couple of little things like that, they aren't a big deal but they force me to think for a half-second too long and it breaks the flow of the patter. That's just my two cents, I'm grasping at straws to find constructive criticism to give.

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