Young Writers Society

Bittersweet and I have decided to write a story, using some of our favorite themes. I hope you like it. We'll post part #2 when we're finished writing chapter 3-4. Every will consist of 2 chapters ('cause they're short).

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All is Dead at the Thirteenth Hour

1

CHARLOTTE: (through tears) You have killed them all, HENRY! (puts her hand on her heart) All is dead; everyone I ever loved. (Long, slightly awkward pause in which she gazes at him. She moves her hand as though to take his, but pins it quickly to her side). But you’ve killed them all! What reason must I have to live?

HENRY: (with a huge, wicked grin) Indeed! What reason have you? (spreads arm out in a gesture as if to point out all the dead bodies laying around) What keeps me from sending you to your death?

CHARLOTTE: HENRY… (another long pause, in which she steps closer to him) I… Wait… what’s my line?

A few exasperated sighs rang out from the dead people splayed out on the floor. Holly bit her lip and caught a script the stage director Adam threw at her. She scanned the script for her line. “Oh.”

Charlotte: (advancing on Henry and staring at him passionately) I love you.

Edgar’s lips twitched and broke into a grin.

The dead people moaned again. “Alright, rehearsals over for today,” Adam sighed.

Holly rolled her eyes at Edgar. “How in the world were you cast for a leading role if you can’t keep a straight face while acting?” she cried. Annoyed, she walked away. She really wasn’t upset with Edgar. She was just so worried that they’d mess up the entire musical and get laughed at. She was on Broadway! A leading role! She couldn’t let this moment be ruined.

She went into her dressing room and peeled off her dress gratefully. That stupid petticoat kept on getting in the way while she was walking on the stage. She looked into the mirror with a sigh and couldn’t help but think dourly that the people in the movies had it better. They could just retake the scene and laugh about it if they messed up. On the stage, every mistake couldn’t be undone.

People had told Holly all her life she’d look good on the stage. The way her teal eyes caught the spotlights and made them glitter, or her wide smile that could be seen from even the people in the boxes was perfect for Broadway. Holly had often wondered if that was as far as she went in terms of appearance. Would her small, fragile nose or her waves of auburn hair look good on the camera, too?

There was a soft knock on the door. “One second!” Holly called, jumping into her jeans and a T-shirt. She crossed the room and turned the knob. It was Edgar.

“Hi,” he said, leaning on the doorframe. “I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry. Those lovey-dovey lines always make me laugh for some reason. They’re too… chick-flickish, if you know what I mean.”

“Yeah. Don’t worry about,” Holly said, scrutinizing him. He looked like someone she’d met before, but she couldn’t place who. She was probably just being silly; she would’ve remembered a person with the name Edgar Gaspade. She laughed out loud just thinking of it.

“Hmm?” Edgar said, his eyebrows pulling together.

“Oh.” Holly hid her smile behind her hand. “Nothing. Just thought of something that happened a few weeks ago,” she lied, walking back to the mirror to put her hair up in a ponytail. She noticed Edgar linger there at the door a second longer before disappearing into the dark hallway.

Her peace was interrupted again when her friend Diana came in. “Hey, Holly! You did some good acting out there.”

Holly turned around and smiled Diana. “Thanks, Di. You made a pretty good dead person, too.”

2

Edgar Gaspade blinked as he stepped out into the New York sun. Traffic was jammed, as always, and his eye caught a glint of sunlight. He turned his head and read the sign: BROADWAY. He was finally here. His dreams, his hopes and his future all resided on this street.

Edgar turned around and looked at the building he had just walked out of. It was the Charles Memorial Theatre where the new musical, All is Dead at the Thirteenth Hour, would be performed. He had caught himself in one of the leading rolls. Edgar played Henry, the vicious, bloodthirsty villain who wanted Charlotte - played by Holly Hughes - and her family dead.

Through the building’s window, his heart fluttered unexpectedly as Holly exited out of the doors. She caught sight of him, and waved goodbye.

“I’ll see you later, Edgar,” she said and smiled weakly. Her tiny dog was snapping at her high heels. She brought that dog everywhere. Adam Larson, the stage director, had forbidden the dog permission to enter the set, so Holly had to tie it up at her dressing room, where it was fed and watered.

“Yeah,” Edgar said. He didn’t wave but stared at her as she walked down the sidewalk. The dog barked, and Holly bent down and pointed her finger at it. The dog didn’t bark for the rest of the walk.

When she turned the corner off of Broadway, Edgar hastily followed her, being sure to keep out of sight. He stuck his hands in his pockets and nervously bit his tongue. This was it. Now or never, he thought.

He cautiously turned the corner, and searched for Holly and her stupid dog. Edgar began to frantically sweat. He couldn’t find them.

“No!” he whispered and began to run. His eyes swept through the crowd, but still with no sign of Holly. He would have been able to spot her easily. She was fairly tall and was wearing a bright pink sweater. That should have made her easy to locate, amidst the gray and white business suits.

Still no sign.

“Where did she go?” Edgar whispered. He slowed his pace and came to a stop. He had to think.

It had said on Holly’s application that she lived twenty blocks away from Broadway.. She most certainly wouldn’t walk all that way. She had to have had –

A cab.

Edgar flipped around, searching in the windows of the bright yellow vehicles. Holly couldn’t have gotten far. Traffic was far too slow. She was still on this street. Edgar broke into a run, as he glanced into the cabs. There were only about seven on the street. He glanced into the back of each of window, and he finally spotted her bright hair. He didn’t make himself visible to her, but he made sure he was in sight of her.

Quickly, Edgar hailed a taxi and jumped in.

“Can you follow that taxi up there? I, uh, forgot to give her something,” Edgar pleaded, and the taxi driver nodded. Edgar leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. He could really use a beer.

“I have to stay within the New York City boundaries, you know. I have no clue where this cab I’m chasing is going. I’m going to have to stop soon, I’m afraid,” the taxi driver muttered, glancing into the back seat, where Edgar was twitching.

“It’s not too much further. It’s in New York City. Just keep following her,” Edgar said. “Please,” he added. The taxi driver grumbled and continued to follow Holly’s cab.

New York City was sliding past the vehicle like a ball rolling down a sidewalk.

“There! The cab’s stopped! Let me out here,” Edgar muttered, pointing to the cab. It had parked along a sidewalk, and Holly and her dog clambered out. Edger slid out of the vehicle and stood under a tree, making sure to stay behind the woman.

From behind her, her hips were smooth, like lotion spread on a body. Her curly scarlet hair bounced around carelessly. Edgar eyed her beautiful shoulders, her arching back, and her slender buttocks.

Feeling a sense of arousal, he quickly pressed his way forward, making sure to stay away from her. He needed her. He needed her body wrapped around his own. He needed that feeling of dominance as he snaked around her curves.

Holly’s dog nipped at her ankles as they walked up two flights of stairs to her apartment. She bent down and petted the small dog’s fur, and unlocked her door. She let the animal scurry past her, and then she entered, hastily closing the door.

She didn’t lock it.

Edgar burst from the concealment of the tree he was perched in; he made his way around to the flight of stairs and hurried up them. He was running out of breath, and if he was too loud, she might notice him early. Too early, and everything that he had planned for would be ruined. He needed this chance. He needed this rare opportunity.

Edgar was on her apartment floor. He was staring at her unlocked door, greed shining from his twisted face. His thick, black hair was pulled back with greasy oil, and his mouth began to twitch.

His outstretched hand brushed the doorknob. It was warm to the touch, for it had been reflecting the day’s sun. Edgar hesitated for a moment, reminiscing over his plan. He grasped the doorknob, and began to turn it—

Edgar released it and bit his lip. Everything was coming to an end so quickly now. It was now or never.

Suddenly, the door slid open, and Holly looked out.

“Edgar? What—what are you doing here? You scared the daylights out of me! I heard someone opening the door, so I came to check. Did you need something?”

Edgar hesitated a moment longer, before giving his reply, “Uh, I’m sorry for bothering you. I know that you just got home from rehearsals, but I was wondering if you might want to go get some soup?”

Holly’s mouth slowly dropped open. “Some… some what?”

“Er… soup? Salad? Noodles? Uh, anything you’d like. I just thought that I’d—you know…” Edgar’s voice trailed off. Holly’s small dog ran, barking, towards the two people, and Holly shushed it.

“Um, of course!” Her face was still in shock. “Let me go get my bags and stuff. I’ll meet you out here in a few minutes.” She stared into Edgar’s eyes, sensing that something wasn’t right. He wasn’t telling the whole truth; she could sense that.

“Of course. Take your time,” Edgar replied smoothly, as Holly shut the door. He could hear her hustling around her apartment, and he could smell her perfume as he imagined them entwining together. Dominance is all he wanted.

No. He didn’t want it.

He needed it.