Just a House?
Suspicious Characters
Memphis slicked his oily hair behind his ears while he circled the block a few times before he went into his abandoned house. He checked again to make sure no one had followed him before he jiggled the door handle causing the inside lock to open. It was far from the ideal place to live, but Memphis could relax and sleep at night behind four walls better. He felt too exposed sleeping outside; the shelters, even though they seemed better, were much worse. All those people scattering around like roaches, and crawling over one another to battle for a cot. Memphis only went inside a shelter when he needed a good shower. He much preferred the sight and smell of the moss and wisteria growing over the windows of the , one of the black shutters fell off last week, and there was only one neighbor on the dead end street.
The house next door didn't look as downtrodden, but the little old lady that lived there never had any visitors. Curiosity got the best of him once; Memphis decided to knock on her door.
He cut her grass once a week after that. Every Wednesday morning she left the key hanging on a rusty nail on the banister, she even left a little money so he could buy fuel for the mower. He used her equipment to keep the grass in his lot cut too, but he always locked everything in her shed when he was finished.
He put his pencils, charcoals, and the compact easel into a travel case. He sat the canvas by the door before he walked into the kitchen. The cabinets were bare again; there was no running water or electricity. Memphis sighed as he thought of the man and his offer.
A free place to stay sounded good, and he knew a plumber in town that might give him a good price. He rested on the dusty couch. He couldn't just leave the lonely old kook. Who would take care of her?
A car drove slowly down the dead end street. Memphis curled himself around the edge of the window. He peered out of the ratty blinds. The sleek car was black with tinted windows. The man who climbed out of the car wore black slacks and a white button down shirt. His aviators were too dark to see exactly where his eyes were roaming, but Memphis could feel his cold stare as the man turned to view the whole neighborhood. Those glasses made Memphis want to run.
The man walked up to Mrs. Jones’ front steps, knocked, and turned back around. The frown deepened on his thin lips as his pointed nose zoned in on the run down house next door. Memphis dropped the ratty blinds before grabbing his belongings. He noticed a cream colored card on the floor by his bag; he put it in his pocket quickly as he headed for the back door. He cringed as the front door rattled, the metal lock clanking loose.
Memphis opened the back door and ran as fast as he could, but it wasn’t fast enough. Before he made it through the rusty, broken chain linked fence surrounding the yard, he felt fingers wrap around his arm pulling him to the ground. He swung blindly with all his might; the aviator sunglasses flew off the man’s face. His cheek turned red as Memphis toward over him preparing to run. The man grabbed Memphis’ boot causing the artist to hit the ground.
“Let go of me!” Memphis yelled as he kicked at his face.
The man clinched Memphis’ foot, “you’re under arrest! Anything you say can and will be held against you in the court of law!”
“For what!”
“For breaking and entering and assaulting a police officer.” The man hissed before pushing himself off the ground. He reached into his jacket, pulling out a pair of silver cuffs, before clasping Memphis’ wrist together.
“You can’t prove I was in that house.” Memphis spat as the man jerked him off the ground.
“No, but this bruise is plenty to hold you until I can get a search warrant to finger print the place.” The man smirked.
“You can’t just leave all my stuff here. That’s all I’ve got.” Memphis wouldn’t leave his new painting in the open, nor would he leave his equipment out to ruin.
“Yeah, yeah,” the man grabbed the case strap before pushing Memphis towards his car. “You’re not going to need this anyway.”
“We’ll see.” Memphis glared over his shoulder. “Why aren’t you in uniform?”
“That’s none of your business.” He opened his car door before pushing Memphis in the backseat. “Get in the car and keep your mouth shut.”
“It’s not that easy to shut me up, asshole!”
“Nope, but it’ll be easy to put you behind bars, you son of a-“
“Watch it man!” The guy laughed as Memphis glared. “God, I hate cops!”
The house next door didn't look as downtrodden, but the little old lady that lived there never had any visitors. Curiosity got the best of him once; Memphis decided to knock on her door.
A short, thin woman with pale, leathery skin and frizzy white hair pulled back into a tight bun answered the door. She glared and sputtered, "Evil will find you!"
Memphis had rubbed the back of his neck while averting his gaze from her cold, hard stare before asking to borrow her lawn mower. It was the only rational reason he could conjure. She smiled cheerfully, "are you going to clean the yard for me? It's so hard to keep up."
"I can do that," he agreed as he slowly returned her smile. She held up one long, boney finger before shutting the door. When she came back a moment later, she held a rusty, old skeleton key.
"Here, this opens the building out back." She waved her finger at him, he felt like a naughty child, "don't forgot to put my things back!"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Don't worry," she winked, "I won't tell anyone where you live."
Memphis smiled and thanked her, but she returned to her cold nature as she cowered behind the door, "evil will find you!" His face crinkled while he moved his lips to ask, but she slammed the door. The heavy sound of a new lock sliding in to place filled his ears.
Memphis had rubbed the back of his neck while averting his gaze from her cold, hard stare before asking to borrow her lawn mower. It was the only rational reason he could conjure. She smiled cheerfully, "are you going to clean the yard for me? It's so hard to keep up."
"I can do that," he agreed as he slowly returned her smile. She held up one long, boney finger before shutting the door. When she came back a moment later, she held a rusty, old skeleton key.
"Here, this opens the building out back." She waved her finger at him, he felt like a naughty child, "don't forgot to put my things back!"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Don't worry," she winked, "I won't tell anyone where you live."
Memphis smiled and thanked her, but she returned to her cold nature as she cowered behind the door, "evil will find you!" His face crinkled while he moved his lips to ask, but she slammed the door. The heavy sound of a new lock sliding in to place filled his ears.
He cut her grass once a week after that. Every Wednesday morning she left the key hanging on a rusty nail on the banister, she even left a little money so he could buy fuel for the mower. He used her equipment to keep the grass in his lot cut too, but he always locked everything in her shed when he was finished.
He put his pencils, charcoals, and the compact easel into a travel case. He sat the canvas by the door before he walked into the kitchen. The cabinets were bare again; there was no running water or electricity. Memphis sighed as he thought of the man and his offer.
A free place to stay sounded good, and he knew a plumber in town that might give him a good price. He rested on the dusty couch. He couldn't just leave the lonely old kook. Who would take care of her?
A car drove slowly down the dead end street. Memphis curled himself around the edge of the window. He peered out of the ratty blinds. The sleek car was black with tinted windows. The man who climbed out of the car wore black slacks and a white button down shirt. His aviators were too dark to see exactly where his eyes were roaming, but Memphis could feel his cold stare as the man turned to view the whole neighborhood. Those glasses made Memphis want to run.
The man walked up to Mrs. Jones’ front steps, knocked, and turned back around. The frown deepened on his thin lips as his pointed nose zoned in on the run down house next door. Memphis dropped the ratty blinds before grabbing his belongings. He noticed a cream colored card on the floor by his bag; he put it in his pocket quickly as he headed for the back door. He cringed as the front door rattled, the metal lock clanking loose.
Memphis opened the back door and ran as fast as he could, but it wasn’t fast enough. Before he made it through the rusty, broken chain linked fence surrounding the yard, he felt fingers wrap around his arm pulling him to the ground. He swung blindly with all his might; the aviator sunglasses flew off the man’s face. His cheek turned red as Memphis toward over him preparing to run. The man grabbed Memphis’ boot causing the artist to hit the ground.
“Let go of me!” Memphis yelled as he kicked at his face.
The man clinched Memphis’ foot, “you’re under arrest! Anything you say can and will be held against you in the court of law!”
“For what!”
“For breaking and entering and assaulting a police officer.” The man hissed before pushing himself off the ground. He reached into his jacket, pulling out a pair of silver cuffs, before clasping Memphis’ wrist together.
“You can’t prove I was in that house.” Memphis spat as the man jerked him off the ground.
“No, but this bruise is plenty to hold you until I can get a search warrant to finger print the place.” The man smirked.
“You can’t just leave all my stuff here. That’s all I’ve got.” Memphis wouldn’t leave his new painting in the open, nor would he leave his equipment out to ruin.
“Yeah, yeah,” the man grabbed the case strap before pushing Memphis towards his car. “You’re not going to need this anyway.”
“We’ll see.” Memphis glared over his shoulder. “Why aren’t you in uniform?”
“That’s none of your business.” He opened his car door before pushing Memphis in the backseat. “Get in the car and keep your mouth shut.”
“It’s not that easy to shut me up, asshole!”
“Nope, but it’ll be easy to put you behind bars, you son of a-“
“Watch it man!” The guy laughed as Memphis glared. “God, I hate cops!”
♠ ♠ ♠
Here's chapter two... :) I hope you guys love Memphis as much as I do!