I'm currently working on a new short entitled Thy Judgement Come. When it's done I expect it to run about 8,000 words. Just to try new things I've decided to post each scene as I finish it here as a series of posts. Feedback is always welcome so please feel free to offer criticism as we go.
Thy Judgment Come
"My name is Leon and I'm going to kill your wife."
That one sentence, spoken over the phone, sends Jacob Scribner scrambling to
protect his wife from an implacable mad man. Stalked at every turn and
completely unprepared for the violence that has entered their lives will they
survive the night?
Who is Leon?
Why is he after Jacob’s wife Mary?
What does this have to do with a missing doctor?
Thy Judgement Come is an action fueled fight for survival that will keep you on
the edge of your seat.
Sgt. Miller was still wiping sleep out of his eyes walked into the station that
morning. His first stop was at the coffee pot. The few hours of sleep he had
were going to need serious bolstering with caffeine to keep him going through
Plopping down into his desk chair caused coffee sloshed over the edge of his
cup. He hissed as it hit his hand and uttered a few words that would make his
mother blush. As he was wiping his hand off his phone rang. He reached over with
the hand that wasn’t scalded to pick it up.
“Sgt. Miller’s desk” he said.
“Sarge” said the voice on the other end. “We’ve got a missing persons case you
need to come look at. There are definite signs of a kidnapping.”
Miller sighed and asked for the address. He jotted it down on his notepad before
hanging up the phone. He stared at his coffee mug and went looking for a cup
with a lid.
There were two squad cars in front of the house when he pulled up. It was a two
story house that stood out in a neighborhood of single story dwellings. The yard was immaculate and his suspicion that the owner used a lawn service was confirmed almost as soon as he left his vehicle. The garage door was up and an officer was taking a statement from a middle aged man in work clothes when he walked in.
“Hey Sarge, this is Mr. Clark” said the officer. “He’s the gentleman who made
“Thanks Bob, I’ll take it from here. Mr. Clark, can you tell me what happened?”
“Yes sir, I arrived about 8:00 to start on Dr. Stephen’s lawn. When I got here I
saw the garage door was up, his car door was open, and I saw the writing on the
wall. That’s when I called the police.”
Sgt. Miller made notes while he spoke but he was sure that the other officer had
written down the same things.
“Can you wait here a moment while I look around Mr. Clark? I might have a few
Mr. Clark nodded and shuffled his feet while Sgt. Miller moved into the garage.
The door to the silver Benz was open and the keys were in the ignition. He
glanced at the fuel gauge and saw that it was on empty. There was a briefcase
lying on the garage floor with its contents spilled out.
“Have someone gather up the briefcase and the papers” Sgt. Miller called out.
“It looks like the kidnapper hit him as soon as he stepped out of the vehicle. He didn’t even have time to turn off his car.”
He moved around the techs that were dusting for prints until he had completed a
circle around the car. When he didn’t find anything obvious he looked at the wall. They had told him to expect it and he had wanted to view it last. In dark
red paint on the wall was written “Thy Judgement Come”.
“What kind of whacko does something like this” asked an officer at his side.
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
“Sarge!” Someone called from across the garage.
Sgt. Miller turned around as the man jogged over to him. He handed him a stack of pictures from the briefcase on the floor.
“Now who the hell is this chick?”