So, keep your love locked down.

I typed it up, and I'm rather pleased with it. I might make some more edits, but, this is the official "finished copy" of one of my most recent short stories. I haven't finished a short story in such a long time, so, this is kind of a momentous occasion.


The title is a metaphor. Really, I'm clever. You don't have to tell me.


Dig Into Dirt


DO NOT COPY AND PASS OFF AS YOUR OWN WORK BECAUSE I WILL FIND YOU AND I WILL KILL YOU.

                The apartment was bland, bare and barren. Boxes lined the walls as if the resident moved in recently. None of which, were the case.

                She laid still on a white mattress on the floor, he body covered by a small plaid quilt. Her breath was incredibly slow for a woman of her profession. Her hands were wrapped in bandages, her body bruised and her face forever marred.

                It would probably be best if the boxes remained where they were.

                She jolted awake, her vision blurred, "Get out." her hand dug beneath the mattress.

                "I'm not leaving, Esther." a calm voice said.

                "I'm saying, get the hell out of my flat, Jon."

                "I'm not leaving until I can leave here, with you, as one."

                "Jon. I told you, it's not safe for you. How many times do I have to say it? You know what I do. That should be your first damn hint!"

                "Do you think I would still be standing here if I was scared?"

                "Jon. You're breaching my privacy."

                He stepped closer, running a hand through his hair, "Don't you ever want to be happy?"

                Esther looked away, "Funny to think that you automatically believe that you are my only source of happiness." she quietly scoffed to herself, "Quite frankly, in this day and age, I can't deal with these emotions on top of being chased down weekly. They'll find you out. They'll come after you. I have no interest in losing someone again, nor can I deal with the guilt."

                "Esther, please." Jon said, grabbing her my shoulders, "I'm not afraid of gunfire or death. I can handle it."

                "How many times am I going to have to deny you? Jon, you know I care for you, but, if the Italians or Russians ever came after you, I'd never forgive myself." she said shaking herself free.

                "How many times will I have to say that I don't care?"

                "It's not all about you, Jon." Esther spat with a sharp glare. "I wish you would. You need to run away, Jon, as fast as you can."

                "I'm not --"

                "Jon. Please. I'm begging you." Esther pleaded, stepping towards the window.

                "A simple word." Jon said, following her.

                "Simple?" Esther laughed, "Tinged with a thousand more."

                "I know you feel it, Esther. All you need to do is convey."

                "I don't feel, Jon. Why couldn't you fall for someone much simpler? You'd be much happier and you know it."

                "There's no one quite like you, Esther."

                Esther laughed again, her voice stained with sarcasm, "Tell me about it."

                "Consider this a secret. You're good with hiding."

                "Look, Jon --"

                "Quite frankly. I've had enough of this cute romantic banter. So much for secrecy." a man said, pushing the door wide open.

                Esther shoved Jon behind her, "Do not show your face." she whispered. She held her hand gun in front of her, "Who sent you?"

                "The real question is, who didn't, love." he said. He wore a black hat, its rim large enough to shade his face, "I figure I should introduce myself." he continued as he pulled a small pistol out of his jacket. The look was vintage, the silver colour the brightest point of the room. "Tyler. Let's make this easy, Esther."

                She inhaled sharply and backed herself into Jon, procuring herself as a human shield, "Garlic?" Esther scoffed. "Try again, you filthy Italian." she shoved Jon face first into the towers of boxes and slammed her first into Tyler's jaw.

                It could have been an equal battle of epic proportions with fists flying left and right and Hollywood-like gun usage, but, in honest terms, nothing of the sort could ever happen. Blood flowed like a river and saliva exploded like a volcanic eruption. Teeth were loosened and skin was battered.

                It was balanced until two other suited men invaded the tiny apartment and joined Tyler. Esther managed to knock the expensive pistol away into the other towers of boxes. Blood fell freely from her noise and she stepped away from the three bodies on the floor. She hadn't had to use her gun once.

                "Oi, get up." Esther said, offering a hand to Jon as she stashed her weapon away, "I can't imagine you wanting to live like this."

                Jon mumbled something under his breath, latching onto Esther, daring not to let go.

                "Jon, you're crushing me. Calm down."

                "Your whole apartment was invaded. I'd ask how you could be so calm, but, I know the answer already." he said.

                "Excellent." she said and wiped the blood onto the floor.

                "Try again." Tyler shouted, his voice sounding much more insane and maniacal.

                Cold metal pressed through Jon's hair, the rounded barrel paralyzing his entire body.

                Esther removed her gun and threw Jon under her left arm, almost throwing him to the ground.

                Again.

                It all seemed like it was all in slow motion.

                The gun met Tyler's face and the hair trigger was pulled.