Black Eyes 1000 word challenge

11018148_10152783278744389_198680198052640117_nThis was a 1000 word challenge on Books Go Social Facebook. Here is a picture Elizabeth Noreen Newton challenged me with. How apropos that my current WP had an opening beginning on La Rambla in Barcelona. This picture is owned by Elizabeth and taken off La Rambla. I took the opening of Big Sky Allure, my wip, and shortened it to fit in the 1000 words. A great exercise!

Vehicular and pedestrian traffic on La Rambla, a popular street lined with shops and restaurants had begun its morning crescendo. Soon Barcelona would be buzzing, a sensory overload of sights, sounds, and smells. Mari Salazar stopped in front of an upscale boutique, its window lined with mannequins standing frozen against the moving crowds. On instinct she flipped her camera up to photograph the reflections.

A tall man nearby stopped. Something about him was familiar, she couldn’t see his face well but when he turned, she snapped a few more pictures.

Mari inconspicuously checked the last few frames. His eyes, she would never forget those eyes she saw at the police station in Capital City, Montana.

Tony, her brother and the arresting detective, stopped moving the handcuffed man and turned in one direction to speak to someone. The arrested man turned to her. With his long jet black hair held in place by a type of doo rag, he looked like a modern day pirate. His bow shaped mouth curved into a small smile, and he tipped his head, “Buenas Noches Chica.” His caramel smooth voice, had spiraled through Mari’s insides causing her to shiver.

Later, when she had a few minutes to say good bye to her brother she had asked about the man with the black eyes. Her brother told her to forget about what she had seen, the man was now a federal prisoner and wouldn’t be out on the streets for years to come.

She was more than mildly surprised, and curious why he was here, in Barcelona seven weeks later.

Mari’s attempts to photograph Black eyes face were thwarted by his hurried pace. What if he had broken bail, or worse, escaped? If she could get one good picture to send to her brother, and he had illegally escaped, maybe she could help them find him.

Mari knew she had caused pain and humiliation to herself, her family and her friends. She had tried to blame love for her ignorance, but in reality she knew it to be fear. Fear of being alone, fear of losing the first man she had ever loved. These past months had let her focus on the truth and the understanding that following the right road might be lonely, but being alone was better than violating her values.

The man hurried down busy streets. Attempting to keep pace Mari felt her pulse quicken and her skin moisten with sweat. A cramp started in her side. Though five foot eight and in good shape, his longer legs, allowed him to rush at a pace that forced Mari to jog at times. The surroundings went from the bright open Ramblas to narrow streets, darkened by timeworn tall buildings that blocked the still early sun. Mari had to periodically hide in doorways to avoid being spotted.

He stopped in front of a restaurant where two men walked out and greeted him. From where she hid, she couldn’t hear what they said, but she recognized Black Eyes deep smooth laugh. His rumble stroked her insides. She let out her breath when the trio disappeared into a doorway.

Mari knew she should turn around here, call her brother and make sure this guy hadn’t blown his bail. But without a good photograph, he would probably think it was her imagination, and question how she could know it was him from such a brief encounter.

The front door was locked, so she moved to the alley behind the building and found the right door. Putting her hand on the door, she hesitated. She was about to trespass. Turning the handle slow, it easily pushed open.

Blood pulsed in her ears knowing she shouldn’t be involved. But the last time she ignored a crime, she had paid the price. The words, young, inexperienced and naïve, had been her family’s excuses for her behavior.

She wasn’t in love with Black Eyes like she had been with Aron so she didn’t have any excuses. She didn’t even know Black Eyes, which was even more reason to report him.

Mari slipped into the dim narrow hallway. Sweat dripped under her backpack. She pressed her camera close to her side and listened. Her breathing echoed in the dark quiet space and she forced herself to take slow deep breaths. It helped, her pounding heart slowed and her muscles relaxed. A little.

She heard men arguing. She wasn’t close enough to hear clearly. Careful not to knock over anything, she stepped closer to the voices.

The sounds came from a room further ahead. She peaked through port like windows of a nearby door, through which she could see an empty professional kitchen. She inched the door open, hoping the ancient hinges wouldn’t squeak.

Voices, in Spanish, came through a door across the kitchen. “Listen you Portuguese son-of-a-bitch,” someone barked. “That isn’t the deal we made.  Everything, now or the deal is off.” She recognized the caramel tone, though now it was angry and rough.

“I cannot get them right away. The guns yes, but the MANPADS will take longer. Ground to air missiles are a little harder to transport,” a different speaker, graveled out.

“The buyer wants them now. If you can’t get them to me, I’ll go elsewhere.” The rich, smooth voice said loud enough for Mari to make out Black Eyes speaking.

Mari understood the situation, a gun buy. Bile rose in her throat. Nausea rolled through her stomach.  She turned to run hitting a metal cart. It rolled and Mari tumbled forward, falling into a nearby sink. The moving cart slammed into the stove. Metal pans flew off the cart, crashing on the tiled floor. The deafening clangs bounced off the walls.

A bright light pained Mari’s eyes as she pushed herself upright. Panic gripped her and the room began to spin.  A large hand grabbed her arm, steadying her. A set of big black eyes coming into focus as the faintness subsided. “Buenas Noches Chica.”

Vehicular and pedestrian traffic on La Rambla, a popular street lined with shops and restaurants had begun its morning crescendo. Soon Barcelona would be buzzing, a sensory overload of sights, sounds, and smells. Mari Salazar stopped in front of an upscale boutique, its window lined with mannequins standing frozen against the moving crowds. On instinct she flipped her camera up to photograph the reflections.

A tall man nearby stopped. Something about him was familiar, she couldn’t see his face well but when he turned, she snapped a few more pictures.

Mari inconspicuously checked the last few frames. His eyes, she would never forget those eyes she saw at the police station in Capital City, Montana.

Tony, her brother and the arresting detective, stopped moving the handcuffed man and turned in one direction to speak to someone. The arrested man turned to her. With his long jet black hair held in place by a type of doo rag, he looked like a modern day pirate. His bow shaped mouth curved into a small smile, and he tipped his head, “Buenas Noches Chica.” His caramel smooth voice, had spiraled through Mari’s insides causing her to shiver.

Later, when she had a few minutes to say good bye to her brother she had asked about the man with the black eyes. Her brother told her to forget about what she had seen, The man was now a federal prisoner and wouldn’t be out on the streets for years to come.

She was more than mildly surprised, and curious why he was here, in Barcelona seven weeks later.

Mari’s attempts to photograph Black eyes face were thwarted by his hurried pace. What if he had broken bail, or worse, escaped? If she could get one good picture to send to her brother, and he had illegally escaped, maybe she could help them find him.

Mari knew she had caused pain and humiliation to herself, her family and her friends. She had tried to blame love for her ignorance, but in reality she knew it to be fear. Fear of being alone, fear of losing the first man she had ever loved. These past months had let her focus on the truth and the understanding that following the right road might be lonely, but being alone was better than violating her values.

The man hurried down busy streets. Attempting to keep pace Mari felt her pulse quicken and her skin moisten with sweat. A cramp started in her side. Though five foot eight and in good shape, his longer legs, allowed him to rush at a pace that forced Mari to jog at times. The surroundings went from the bright open Ramblas to narrow streets, darkened by timeworn tall buildings that blocked the still early sun. Mari had to periodically hide in doorways to avoid being spotted.

He stopped in front of a restaurant where two men walked out and greeted him. From where she hid, she couldn’t hear what they said, but she recognized Black Eyes deep smooth laugh. His rumble stroked her insides. She let out her breath when the trio disappeared into a doorway.

Mari knew she should turn around here, call her brother and make sure this guy hadn’t blown his bail. But without a good photograph, he would probably think it was her imagination, and question how she could know it was him from such a brief encounter.

The front door was locked, so she moved to the alley behind the building and found the right door. Putting her hand on the door, she hesitated. She was about to trespass. Turning the handle slow, it easily pushed open.

Blood pulsed in her ears knowing she shouldn’t be involved. But the last time she ignored a crime, she had paid the price. The words, young, inexperienced and naïve, had been her family’s excuses for her behavior.

She wasn’t in love with Black Eyes like she had been with Aron so she didn’t have any excuses. She didn’t even know Black Eyes, which was even more reason to report him.

Mari slipped into the dim narrow hallway. Sweat dripped under her backpack. She pressed her camera close to her side and listened. Her breathing echoed in the dark quiet space and she forced herself to take slow deep breaths. It helped, her pounding heart slowed and her muscles relaxed. A little.

She heard men arguing. She wasn’t close enough to hear clearly. Careful not to knock over anything, she stepped closer to the voices.

The sounds came from a room further ahead. She peaked through port like windows of a nearby door, through which she could see an empty professional kitchen. She inched the door open, hoping the ancient hinges wouldn’t squeak.

Voices, in Spanish, came through a door across the kitchen. “Listen you Portuguese son-of-a-bitch,” someone barked. “That isn’t the deal we made.  Everything, now or the deal is off.” She recognized the caramel tone, though now it was angry and rough.

“I cannot get them right away. The guns yes, but the MANPADS will take longer. Ground to air missiles are a little harder to transport,” a different speaker, graveled out.

“The buyer wants them now. If you can’t get them to me, I’ll go elsewhere.” The rich, smooth voice said loud enough for Mari to make out Black Eyes speaking.

Mari understood the situation, a gun buy. Bile rose in her throat. Nausea rolled through her stomach.  She turned to run hitting a metal cart. It rolled and Mari tumbled forward, falling into a nearby sink. The moving cart slammed into the stove. Metal pans flew off the cart, crashing on the tiled floor. The deafening clangs bounced off the walls.

A bright light pained Mari’s eyes as she pushed herself upright. Panic gripped her and the room began to spin.  A large hand grabbed her arm, steadying her. A set of big black eyes coming into focus as the faintness subsided. “Buenas Noches Chica.”

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