Millicent’s life as an American expatriate in Tangier was a triangular walk from her department store job to a market down the street to her apartment across from both. She was bored but knew it was an exile for her past. Her upcoming late afternoon buzz would placate everything. The rock song “New York Groove” played from inside her purse as she left the market with two bottles of tequila and assorted sundries in brown paper bags. She answered it as she crossed the street for her triangle’s final point.
“Hello Pauline, how are you and the baby?”
Millicent listened to her pregnant friend’s updates from New York while walking inside her building. Her friend provided enough money for something better than the 900 square foot, two-bedroom place she’d found on the same day she found employment. But everyone in the building spoke French. In Tangier, the popular languages were French, Spanish, and Arabic. She was confident in her French. It made her feel like she was living in Europe, where she planned on running next time. She believed in a next time.
“I’m fine. Busy at the store then I made my walk around the Eye of Fatima, you know; work, grocery, home.”
Her friend’s phone calls were the brightest parts of life.
“Bye Pauline, let me know when you can pluck me from here so I can help you with the little one.”
After hanging up, she dropped the phone in a different purse pocket. She felt two cyanide syringes she’d prepared earlier. She put the key in the door lock and noticed it was open. She picked out one of the syringes, hiding it behind a grocery bag, then walked inside. A tall man with a towel around his waist came out of the bathroom. She rolled her eyes as he spoke in broken English.
“Ah Sandra. Soree, I call but no ahnshur.”
Millicent put the bags on the kitchenette counter then slipped the syringe in her bra for later.
I’m letting Silas and Olive take the week off since 100 word song is postponed for the Holiday. I thought I would give y’all a Thanksgiving special, Millicent in Morocco. For those who aren’t familiar with my female serial killer Millicent Stingley go here http://lancemyblogcanbeatupyourblog.wordpress.com/cinnamon-girl/ and here: http://lancemyblogcanbeatupyourblog.wordpress.com/dead-money/ . She’s a character I created for a short story contest two and a half years ago. My writing partner and dear friend Tar rah aka @Tara_R aka www.thinspiralnotebook.com and I combined her character, female assassin Pauley aka Pauline, and Millicent for several story series – Dead Money and it’s sequel The Brazilian Job.
I’m linking this stand alone (for now) 333 word piece to Trifecta Writing Challenge’s “pluck” word prompt. www.trifectawritingchallenge.com
Today’s song comes from Camper Van Beethoven. I’ve been wanting to use Eye of Fatima forever. It fits, here.
Happy Day of Giving Thanks to you and yours from me and my family.
Are you looking for something interesting and music driven to read? I have two for you. My books, The Ballad of Helene Troy, an underdog story about a female musician in New York City, and Soul To Body, about an ex-1990s guitar player trying to raise his teenage daughter after the death of his wife, her mother, are available, digitally, on Amazon.com for your kindles, and in paperback from Lulu.com