Chapter one of book "The Number 52"

Chapter One Hit List One dim yellow tinted street lamp lit my path as I walked the back streets and alleys of Chicago. I dragged my feet across the broken and dirty sidewalk as depressing and horrible thoughts continued to pound through my head. Hands in my pockets, head down, my two day old suit fit tightly and snugly to my body. I felt a vibration in my pocket. Cell phone. Slowly, I pulled it out. Text message. Joey. I pressed my fingertip to the silver button to select the “view now” option. A circle shaped series of dots spun about as an indication of the message loading. I stopped walking to see the message more clearly as the words filled the small Motorola Krzr screen. I began to read the text. A gust of wind blew down the narrow road. I rushed forward several steps and sat hard in an old wooden bench. As I scrolled down to read the last words of the text, a loud roar echoed down the passage and two bright headlights emerged at the end of the lane. The vehicle slowed as it nears me, and suddenly it occurred to me that I may be in some danger. I stand up and rapidly begin to walk away from the ever nearing car. Pressing speed dial 6 on the phone the device begins calling Joey. He picked up on the third ring. “Hey girl! What's up?” “Well, um I've got a car right behind me and it's kinda freaking me out.” “Well, then just put the pedal to the medal and if the car keeps up with you, try to attract some police attention.” I grimaced. Time to come clean. “Yeah-- well that's the problem. I'm on foot. In an alley. Alone.” Silence. The car pulled up right next to me forcing me to step into a doorway to avoid becoming roadkill. The car pulled forward a bit more so the door of the car was accessible to the wide opening made for the doorway. I quickly began taking mental notes. Color-- unidentifiable in darkness with such bright lights around it, but definitely something dark. Model-- Lamborghini Gallardo. Bought within the last couple of years. Black tinted windows. That implies either undercover law enforcement or gang. “Joey? I--” “Gotta go. Bye.” “Uhhm, what?” The phone went dead. The window rolled down. A man with a black pinstripe suit and matching Fedora was staring at the windshield. Dark fairly long hair. This man lived well. Then he turned and looked at me. Brown eyes. A day's worth of stubble on his chin. Wendell. Joey's best friend and my own good friend. Wendell worked for Joey in the CIA. Not to many people knew that. I think I'm the only person in the world that is not a CIA agent that knows about them two. I smiled. “Back up and let me get in.” He flashed a very bright set of teeth at me in the shape of a smile. Threw the gear into reverse. Thirteen seconds later, I was sitting in the passenger leather coated seat of a million dollar government car with an all black interior; a soft blue light coming from nowhere filled the small vehicle. Wendell spoke for the first time that night, but it wasn't to me. “Objective acquired. This is Dell returning to headquarters.” He nearly whispered this information into a small microphone protruding from the dashboard. Suddenly, without warning, Wendell pushed the pedal. The gear was in “Drive”. I suddenly realized what was about to happen. The car shot forward. I head shot back. Cars shot across a highway we so uncivilizedly crossed. Wendell produced a HTC touch HD from absolutely nowhere and handed it to me. I looked at the screen. It was already calling Joey's number. “Give me your phone.” the low voice came from Wendell's direction. His brow was wrinkled with concentration. I held out my blue Motorola. He snatched it up with his gloved hand and swiftly dropped it outside his open window where I saw through the mirror the electronic smash into thousands of pieces. “Hello? Sam? Samantha? Sam!? Are you there?” Joey's voice transmitted quietly from the phone still in my hand. “Yeah, I'm in the lamb with Dell, what's going on?” It was no use asking Wendell what was going on, he spoke rarely ever since his father, mother, and two sisters had been gunned down by a group of terrorists that had discovered the extremely dangerous American agent's real identity. “I was looking over a list of people on a hit list. I'm not sure yet why, but you're number fifty-two on it. As a government agent I have just technically betrayed the nation, as I am taking personal friendships into the field, but I'm not going to let you get knocked down by my men.” I sat frozen in shock. “Listen, Sam, I know this is big, but trust me. I'll take care of this. You'll be fine. I'm assigning Wendell to stay with you at all times and I'll be sending in someone else soon. They are listed as undercover on year long surveillance. To all others any more information unknown and highly classified. Only the Director or the President can see what that is, and they won't care. Agents go undercover all the time. Keep the HTC; I've secured it. Don't call anyone else with that phone without permission from me, Dell, or the other agent that will be with you in a few hours. I have to go attend a meeting, so I'll talk to you later. If you need anything, Dell's right next to you. Okay?” “Joey, I--” “Please, Sam, please, trust me. Please.” Joey was reliable. He had disappointed me few times, and those were merely girly teenage emotions that had triggered that disappointment, not Joey. “Okay, Joey. Thank- you. Go do what you need to.” “I'm sorry for all of this, how sudden it all is... but I can't do anything about it presently. Just listen to everything and anything Wendell tells you to do, he knows what he's doing and since you two have known each other for a couple decades, I thought you'd be most comfortable around him. But like I said, I have to go. I'll call back as soon as I'm done with this meeting in a few hours. Bye.” “Bye.” I single tear ran down my cheek. What's going to happen to me? The phone went dead.

The Rider

Here is a poem i wrote. I like this as well. The White Rider The shadows creep along the wall, They hurt the weak and mute their call But when they hear the Rider come, They turn horrified and flee back home. A torch held high, his cloak drawn near, The white Rider heads toward fear. His duty is to serve his old wise king So he heads to hell where demons cling. The task will be hard, the troubles great, But no one else does the Rider hate. As the Rider prays for strength from God, An angel appears with a sword and a rod. When the Rider appears at hell's fearsome gate, He charges at it and vents all his hate. He strikes down the wicked and saves all the good, And will return to his king, just as he should.

The Evidence of Love

I had to write this story in two hours. I really really like it. enjoy! :D

The Evidence of Love

Sweat leaked down the young man's forehead. Brent Steele had never been so nervous about a specific event. He stood a mere three feet in front of his fully restored 1970 Ford Mustang which he had parked in front of the house. The young man had dreamed of this night for a long time. When he first met Amanda, whose father owned the house at which he had parked, they attended Patrick Henry College as sophomores. That was three years ago.
 “Hey, Brent? 'That you out there?” Mr. Hams voice rang over the lawn.
 “Yes it's me. Is, um, is Amanda...,” He stopped in surprise as the large gray haired man jumped off his porch like a young boy and charged at him with a large grin donning his face. Mr. Ham had his arm around Brent in moments.
 “You know, Brent, I remember being nervous in this situation. That happened thirty-seven years ago. Thirty-seven years ago! Can you believe it?” The elderly man's laugh thundered across the dark neighborhood. “Now, you listen to me, Mr. Steele. You march right in that door and tell my daughter exactly what you told me two weeks ago. You get on your knees and do your thing, you hear?”
Brent was dumbfounded. “I, um, well yes sir I will.” He chuckled to himself. Some old men humored him. However, it also encouraged him. God knew that he would need more courage to do this. It struck him rather odd though, Brent had been in a relationship with Amanda for the past eleven months now. His love for her stood out to him as evident as his ten fingers. Even so, fear and anxiety gripped him. After nodding his thanks to Mr. Ham for the encouragement, he began walking towards the front door, failing to think out every step.
When he mounted the porch, Brent raised his strong arm to rap on the door, but not before Mr. Ham whisked around him and blew through the front door, holding it open for him while also yelling something up the stairs to his daughter about having a visitor.
Amanda appeared at the top of the stairs. Brent immediately felt weak in the knees. Her eyes widened pleasantly. She practically flew down the stairs. Yes, she definitely flew, it must be impossible to be so much like an angel and not be able to fly, he thought.
“What happened to the Appalachian Trail? I thought you said you would go with Scott and Josh.” Her face showed her pleasure at the thought of him staying in town rather than the mountains for the next two weeks, although her tone of voice filled itself with false disapproval.
“Well, guess what, Amanda, he didn't go!” Mr. Ham released his unique laughter as he left the two young adults to themselves. 
Amanda smiled at her fathers remark. “I see you chose differently, may I ask why?”
“Yeah, I decided I wouldn't go,” he said. After loosening his collar a bit he added, “Actually, Amanda, I never planned to go. I know I told you I was, but that wasn't really true.”
Puzzlement ruled his beloved's face. He had to act.
“I... can we step outside? It's awfully hot in here.”

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 Mr. Ham watched the two young people in the front yard from the upstairs bedroom. His wife leaned against him, watching curiously. He held a spyglass in one hand; an active camcorder in the other.
“Gertrude, doesn't this remind you of us?” He asked with a chuckle.
 “It does. It really does. You know, Brent is such a lovely young man. I would love to have him as a son-in-law, wouldn't you?” She replied.
 “Yep. I sure would like that. Oh Gertrude, look!” They both peered out the window with expectant eyes as they saw Brent lower to one knee. As he proposed, Amanda wiped the tears of joy away from her face.
 “Oh man! This is so good!” The old man lowered his spyglass with wide eyes. “He's done talking.”
For nearly four agonizing minutes the elderly couple watched their daughter in expectation. Her hesitation worried them. Finally she slowly moved. Mr. Ham raised his spyglass.

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 Amanda stood in shock as Brent professed his love to her. When he finished, he remained on the grass, anticipating her response. She began to think of all the time they had shared. After a couple minutes, she looked back down and saw Brent's anxious face, still waiting. Guilt flooded through her for leaving him in such suspense. Without really thinking, she knelt down to be level with him and repeated his words exactly and ending as he had, saying slowly, “With all these words standing as evidence of my love and devotion to you, Brent Steele, will you marry me?”