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It was raining
Came up with this after watching Identity. Feel free to use it in your own story as I probably never will, but let me know if you do, so I can read it.
It was raining. Cold and hard. The kind of rain that soaks through your skin, turning your blood to ice. The kind of rain that you see in the movies where there’s a deranged lunatic cutting people’s hearts out and chopping off their heads. So it’s only fitting that our story begins here. It was raining. The perfect weather for murder.
Bethany’s once happy life had just come to a screeching halt, much like her car which was stuck in a ditch in the middle of heaven only knows where. Two weeks ago she had received a call from somewhere in upstate Michigan that her sister had suffered a slow and horribly painful death. The police were still investigating.
Bethany had come all the way from Arizona and was unfamiliar with Michigan’s backwoods. There were so many twists and turns and unmarked roads that it was easy to get lost. She’d been driving for hours and hadn’t seen a single car on the road. Except for a town about thirty miles back, it seemed that this part of the state was uninhabited.
Swerving to miss a fallen tree that stretched across the road, Bethany drove her Ford Taurus straight into a ditch. The front end was stuck and it was up to its mirrors in muddy water. She fussed and panted as she climbed over the seat to get out.
This next part occurs a few scenes later. If you’ve seen the movie Identity, you’ll notice the similarities between Jake Busey and Mike.
The man behind the wheel was devishly attractive. He had curly blonde hair that fell over his eyes. Eyes that were blue, intense, and mysterious. The only thing that threw off his good looks were his big teeth. He slowed the car and pulled up beside the young girl. “Need a ride?”
He didn’t have to ask twice. The girl gratefully opened the door and sank into the passenger seat and he gave her the once over before maneuvering the old pick-up back on the road. She was drenched and her blouse clung to her body. Not a single curve did he miss. She had a slender form with very defined hips and bust. He hair was shoulder length, brown streaked with gold. She had beautiful doe eyes that found their way to the side mirror every few seconds as if she was expecting someone to follow her.
She noticed the man gawking at her and smiled awkwardly.
“You got a name?”
“Bethany,” she nodded.
“Mike,” he replied simply and left the shoulder.
Bethany studied him briefly. Her eyes left his face and went to his neck where a thin, red scar trailed form his ear to his throat.
“You’re wondering where I got that.” His eyes hadn’t left the road but he could feel her watching him.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stare.”
“ ‘S okay. It’s not everyday you meet a guy whose had his throat slit." He glanced her way and flashed a quick smile.
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"That which separated and distnguished me from others, mattered. That which no one else said or could say, was what I had to say."
- Andre Gide
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