So I've Been Doodling....

I had some time of my hands since my latest novel is done.  I've been playing around with a story in my head that revolves around mystery, suspense and romance.  Personally, I love those types of stories.  So, what I'm doing here is posting my doodling and would like to ask my readers if they would be interested in reading more of this.   If so, drop me a comment and I'll consider making it a full novel. 

This is raw material and has not been edited or cleaned up.  This is basically my characters talking to me and me putting it to paper.  So don't judge me too harshly.

Caught In The Trap 

“Where is the bus?” Tapping her foot angrily and looking down the street didn’t make the bus appear any faster. “I can’t believe this dang bus is late again!” Carla stated loudly. The only other person in the bus shelter sat quietly ignoring her rant.

 The adult white male with a colorful sleeve of tattoos crawling up his muscular left arm kept his eyes glued to his cell phone. Carla looked at him and rolled her eyes. He was seated in the shelter when she entered. Being the polite person she is, she spoke, and he snubbed her. That didn’t surprise her considering the neighborhood where she worked. The majority of the population in the area snubbed their noses at her and people like her; the hired help. But, instead of cleaning toilets and scrubbing floors, she looked after the elderly parents of families that didn’t have time to take care of them.

 Carla Parker sat near the far end of the bench to continue the wait for a bus to arrive. The bus stop was off the main road and ran on a limited schedule. Not many people took public transportation in this neck of the woods. Therefore, the bus made no attempt to keep a timely schedule. There was a possibility it could have come early and she missed it. If that was the case, she would have to walk two miles to get to an area where other buses were still running. She didn’t want to do that considering it was getting late and there were hardly any streetlamps to provide light.

 She took her cell phone from her purse and scrolled through it. She had missed several phone calls and a couple of text messages from her sister; those could wait. What she eagerly waited for was an email from a possible new employer. 

The job as a home health aide was not what she wanted to do anymore. But with her back against the wall and the bills piling up she had to step back into that role take the job temporarily. Carla didn’t hate the job; it paid reasonably well, and there wasn’t much work involved with this couple. Since the elderly couple, she cared for was not bedridden, they basically, they took care of themselves, she was just there to oversee them. The downfall of the job was the travel to get to work. It was a long commute from Cleveland Heights to Seven Hills. She had to find a job a closer to home.

Carla exhaled an irritated breath and got up to look down the street again. Dusk was setting in, and she still had connecting buses to catch. Pacing she patted her hands on her thighs, she would try again to make conversation with the man, but what would be the point? His face remained buried in his phone. If he hadn’t coughed once, she thought he might be dead since he hadn’t moved a muscle in the last thirty minutes.

 Two white men entered the bus shelter. Carla scanned over the well-dressed medium-built, white man as he sat next to the tattooed man; it was the first time he had raised his head. The other white man who was wearing dark sunglasses and all black stood in the doorway with large arms folded across a massive chest. 

Carla felt the hairs on her neck stand up. It was eighty degrees outside and too humid and hot for the type of clothing those men were wearing. She scooted off the bench. Her sixth sense kicked in and shouted for her to get the hell out of the shelter and fast. The two men did not fit; they were definitely there to make trouble, and she didn’t want any part of it.

 "Excuse me,” she said as she tried to exit through the doorway that the man blocked. The bus shelter only had one entrance and his massive body size did not leave her any room to get around him.

In a thickly accented voice, he said to her. “Have a seat.”

Carla swallowed and realized the man was not American. At this stage she didn’t care what he was; she just wanted out of the bus shelter. She tried to sound tough. She had relatives who lived in the hood and a few male cousins who were involved in gangs at one time in their lives. She put her hands on her hips and rolled her neck. “I don’t know what’s going on in here and I don’t care what y’all are doing; so get out of my way.”

 “Shut up and sit down!” The man barked at her.

 “Hey!” The well-dressed man shouted. “Don’t yell at the young lady; we’ll deal with her later.”

 Carla frowned and started to cuss until she heard the slight accent in his voice too. She felt sweat cover her entire body as she shook from the fear enveloping her. Dang, this cannot be good for tattoo dude into if these goons tracked him in a bus shelter. Heck, it can’t be good for me either; I’m a freaking witness to whatever is about to happen! She looked at the tattooed man who still seemed too calm and relaxed. He looked at her, winked and then lowered his head again. What did that mean? Did he want her to do something? She couldn’t if she wanted to, her legs felt like wet noodles. She sat down and felt her phone vibrating in the pocket of her smock. Whoever was calling would be the last person to contact her before her death. As she saw it, there was no way she was getting out of this situation alive.

She couldn’t draw her eyes away from the tattooed man. He was now locked in an eye stare with the man seated next to him and it was fierce. Carla imagined the man acting as a body guard returned the death stare through is dark sunglasses, daring him to make a move.

 Then it happened.

 All hell broke loose in the confined shelter. Carla jumped to her feet as the tattooed man leaped from his position, attacking the man. The fighting was violent as the men threw punch after punch. The blows to the body made her cringe.

Her heart thumped in her chest as she plastered herself in the corner of the shelter. The only way out was to go between the two men fighting; that wasn’t happening. The foreign man fell into her, knocking her to the ground. She screamed as her head hit the cement floor. Her cries went unheard as the man was pulled off her, and the fighting continued.

Carla scrambled to her feet. The white man was outside the shelter banging on the thick glass. “Give me your hand,” he shouted to her from outside the shelter.

Confused she looked down at the ground. Did expect her to crawl under the shelter to get out? The space was barely large enough for a small child to fit, much less a grown woman with hips. He shouted at her again, this time he had a gun pointed and aimed at the tattooed man who was beating the living daylights out the man with the thick accent. She was trapped. She didn’t know if she should trust the man with the gun. Just because he was offering to help her, didn’t mean his intentions were good.

Carla scooted to the back of the shelter crunched between the bench and the wall. She wasn’t going anywhere. Somebody had to see the fight as they drove down the isolated road and call police. Then suddenly, a panel of the glass shattered as gunfire erupted. She covered her head as she cowered in the corner, screaming for dear life.