Because I won’t be able to update much until I’m done the story, I thought it would be cool to post the prolouge to ‘The Envelope’.
When I woke up I had one hell of a headache.
The room is small. There is no apparent way in or out. The walls are mirrored. The floor and ceiling seemed to be made out of sound proof material. There is a bright light, shining straight down. In the corner, attached to the wall is what seems to be a P.A. box. The only other thing in the room is a chair.
I happen to be strapped down to that chair. Feet, arms, and chest bound. The spot light is shining straight down on me. I donâ€™t know how I got here and Iâ€™m still pissed off.
There is high pitched feedback from the P.A. I can hear whispers and muffled voices as the volume adjusted.
Finally someone speaks. Itâ€™s a man with a deep voice.
â€œMitch Evans, 3-5-8, Correct?â€
â€œWho are you?â€
â€œPlease, no questions. Are you Mitch Evens, of the 3-5-8, yes or no?â€
â€œSure, Iâ€™ll play along. Yes, I am Mitch Evensâ€
â€œYou were involved in the incident?â€
â€œAre you talking about the Thousands of people that were killed, the government fuck-up, or about the choices I had to make to stay alive? If that is what youâ€™re talking about, then yes, I was involved in the incidentâ€
The hum of the speaker died down and the room went quit.
A drop of blood fell from above my eyebrow, landing on my white dress shirt. It wasnâ€™t really white anymore, it was more of a sweat stained, ripped up, dirty mess. Focusing on a single drop of blood, after what happened yesterday, seems to be the perfect way to maintain my sanity.
Looking in one of the four mirrors confirms my face is a train wreck. Itâ€™s hard to tell how bad the wounds are. I open my mouth to examine my teeth. They are bloody too, so I give the people behind the two way mirror one big bloody smile.
The speaker came back on.
â€œTell us what happenedâ€, he said
â€œI donâ€™t know what you want me to sayâ€
â€œStart at the beginning.â€ It was a woman who spoke this time, â€œStart with Helen Cline.â€
â€œYou couldnâ€™t care less about Helen; you really want to know about the envelope, right?â€
â€œYes, tell us about the White Envelope, Mitch. Thatâ€™s something we would very much like to hear.â€
â€œI guess it doesnâ€™t matter. Iâ€™ll tell you what you want to know. I only ask that you dump my body where someone can find it so I can have a proper burial.
The P.A. shut off again for a brief second. When it came back on, it was the man who answered my request.
â€œWeâ€™ll think about it.â€
I think it’s going to turn into a pretty neat story. I’m about 25% done with it now and have the ideas all fleshed out, I just have to sit down and make it into a read-able story. I look forward to reading any feedback you might have.