broken memories

hey guys! i call this a descriptive piece, despite the fact that it seems like a narrative, because i've focused more on the language than the plot. so i hope you're willing to use your imagination. don't wait for the climax! =)

-apoorva

There was a rustling, a faint groaning in the distance, an icy air all around...the only light in sight besides the excessively bright and slightly eerie moonlight came from what looked like a deserted motel on the highway, looking foreboding, incongruous with the desolate atmosphere. Thalia Jankoski pulled her coat tighter around her shoulders as the wind bit at her cruelly. Behind the motel there were shadows that seemed to stretch dimensions deep, peering at Thalia with bloodthirsty eyes. Thalia scanned the distance looking for signs of life. She had been sent to find a boy who had been missing for the past two weeks and who was suspected to have been brought to this motel. The bushes rustled again as a cat disappeared into them.

Gripping her revolver under her coat, Thalia moved silently towards the motel, keeping her eyes on the light inside. Her footsteps echoed in her mind as her heart pounded. She went around to the back of the run down building, searching for signs of forced entry or exit, crouching down low.

Looking down, Thalia saw a set of fresh footprints heading around the building as though looking for a good way to get in. Next to them were sprinkles of powder. Thalia picked some up delicately, trying not to hold the soil, and held some close to her nose. "Cocaine," she muttered. Her piercing green eyes darted around the scene, calculating and analysing every detail.

The railing that led up the steps to the back porch had been wiped recently, as though to erase fingerprints. The hinges of the porch windows were freshly oiled. More white powder lay on the windowsill. The curtains inside were fluttering - someone must have opened a door to let the breeze in. Thalia's eyes narrowed as her mind processed her surroundings faster than her eyes spotted details, the gears in her mind turning like a machine. Her ears perked up as the groaning started again, this time more urgent. The boy was here, she was certain of it.

Thalia got to her feet. Slipping off her shoes, she made her way up the steps to the back door to examine it. A few seconds later, she jimmied the lock and entered quietly. Taking in her surroundings, she couldn't shake off the feeling of deja vu. The particular angle at which a chair had been upturned, a dark stain the shape of a familiar jawline on the carpet, the leftover chicken on the plate on the hall, the moose animal trophy above the side door, all registered in her mind as details clearly registered before.

Keeping her back to the wall, her revolver out, Thalia circled the ground floor, looking for the stairs, both in the scene around her and in her memory. The groaning continued, and when Thalia was halfway up the steps, her name was called out.

Thalia's heart leapt into her throat and her blood froze. In the seconds, or possibly the minutes, it took her to recover, the groan turned into a bloodcurdling screech. Echoes of it clanked around in Thalia's brain, getting her mixed up with her memories. She thundered up the flight of stairs, and the next, knowing exactly where to turn, which floorboard to jump over because it was loose. As she ran towards the room at the end of the hall, her socked feet registered dampness. She looked down and saw the blood, flowing out of the room from under the door, pooling at her feet, the stench camping out in her nose.

The manic shriek continued and a shot rang out from inside the room. Thalia lunged inside and fell to her knees at the body of the boy. Her eyes widened as they found his face. An ice cold hand made its way to her throat. She struggled around, felt a glint of cold metal, stumbled, pushed the hood off her attacker. All the memories from images of the motel and the dead boy clicked into place in her mind. The man gasped as he recognised her. "You!" Thalia snarled. They fell to the ground, struggling. The gun went off, ringing through their ears, broken memories echoing behind it.