writing stories

People who are reading my Nanaboozhoo stories -- Are you tired of them? I've got another one banging around my head. This one takes place sometime before Stronger than Swift Runner.

I think I want this story to be about redemption.

"Open up! Hey! Come get the door! Police! Open up!"

Abby McGeezhick's eyes sprang open and she staggered out of bed. It had snowed during the night. When she threw open the second floor window and stuck her head out, the snow on the window ledge fell back and plopped on her bare feet.

The officers at the door looked up at her, frowning. The morning sun off the fresh snow made their faces harsh.

"I'm right here! Hold on, I'm coming down!" She pushed the window shut, shoved her wet feet into jeans, and threw on an old sweatshirt. In the living room, Boots and a couple of his buddies were sleeping on the couches and floor. Bags of Doritos and Cheetos and red Solo cups littered the side tables. Abby stomped her bare feet into boots, stepped outside and closed the door quietly behind her.

"We've got a problem, Ms. McGeezhick." Both of the officers towered over her and Abby took a breath to calm herself. One of them was a young guy, and the other was Phillips, who'd been on the force for a handful of years. The younger guy pointed across the street. "The VFW's door has been forced, and somebody took a keg of beer and some other stuff."

They looked stern. Accusingly, even. Abby shrugged. "I don't know what you're talking about. I don't know anything about it!"

The officers looked at each other. "Well, that's real funny, Ma'am," Phillips drawled. "Seeing how there's tracks going out your front door right to the VFW, and then tracks leaving, going right to your back door."

Abby closed her eyes and saw the boys inside, passed out in her living room. "Shit."