How much further can this go?Forgive me but I simply don't want to see this one end. So January's Story Improv is now February's Improv and will remain up through the end of the month. I realize this means newcomers have more to read through before adding to the story, but oh my gosh! I have to find out what happened to Brandon! And what he and Marianne did. Was there a double-cross, a murder?? I must know! So below is the full text of the story thus far. Let's see what you all do with it from here. I bet it's gooood!
Hurry, hurry, I'm on the edge of my seat!
|photo taken from HERE|
Brandon's death notice.
An article, complete with a quote from the police, explaining his death.
The proof was before her that Brandon was gone. Yet Jessica's story nagged at her.
The cider grew cold, but Marianne's resolve heightened. She was going to find out the truth, once and for all.
She yanked out the band that held her ragged ponytail,and ran a comb through her auburn bob. Why she'd kept her hair in the style and length Brandon preferred she wasn't sure. After all he was gone wasn't he? Marianne swallowed, her throat tight. And if he wasn't....
If he wasn't, why had he come back?
She grabbed her keys and purse, and headed for the kitchen. Just as she'd dumped some kibbles for Charlie and Dibs, she heard a car pull up in the drive. She brushed aside the curtain.
The police? What were they doing here?
"I'm officer Townsend. Could I ask you a few questions?" His smile made his warm, brown eyes crinkle around the edges.
"Is something wrong?" Any moment and her voice was going to betray her secrets. And Brandon's.
He ran his tongue along his upper teeth and let out a long sigh from his nose. "Well that depends...How long have you known Brandon Melton was alive?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about. Nothing's changed in the five years since you were last on my doorstep. Brandon'd dead--no matter how I wish differently."
Officer Townsend peered around her shoulder. "Mind if we come in?"
"Actually, I was just leaving."
He straightened and held her gaze, watching. "Maybe another time." He handed her his card. "We have reason to believe that Brandon may have faked his death. Call me if he tries to contact you."
"He won't. Because he's dead."
His hand didn't move until she took his card. Marianne watched them stroll to their car and back down her drive. She stood in the frigid breeze until they disappeared from sight. Then she slammed her door and raced to her room.
The yellow antique chair that once belonged to Brandon's grandmother sat in the corner. She dragged it to her closet, climbed up and stretched to reach the top shelf. Her fingers touched the cold metal box.