[ EE-vən-tahyd ]
Noun
- The end of the day.
- Evening.
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** Either a story beginning, a story ending, a piece of flash fiction, a poem, painting, dance move—inspired by the word, eventide, where does it take me? Where does it take you? Learn more about “The Word” here.
The feelings swirling through him were a mixture of that anger and defiance one gets when they’ve been wronged—that energy of a resistor—combined with a nauseating fear, unlike anything he’d experienced before.
Gabe swallowed back his nausea, fought against the smells of old tobacco and sweat, and faced the man across from him. The man looked back with dark brown eyes and a perfectly manicured face and haircut. Gabe swallowed once more as the metal cuffs around his wrists filled his mind. The man smiled at him.
“I’m detective Hannety. You know why you’re here?”
Gabe fixed his eyes on Hannety. “No. No, I don’t know why your SWAT team ambushed and destroyed my home. I have no idea why they threw me to the ground like I’m some animal, and I have no clue why I am wearing handcuffs. I’d like a lawyer!”
Hannety nodded and leaned back in his chair. Then, he pulled out a cigarette box, lighting one for himself after Gabe refused his offer. The smoke burned Gabe’s nostrils, and he swallowed hard.
“You’re not supposed to smoke inside,” Gabe coughed.
“Are you lecturing me about the law?”
“I’m the only one not breaking any!”
Hannety roared with laughter, and then, while still chuckling, waved a hand at the two-way mirror gesturing for someone to come in. It turned out to be some-thing instead. A small container full of clear plastic bags. Hannety pulled one of the bags from the box, which held a cell phone. He held it in the air in front of Gabe.
“This is how we tracked you down… finally.”
“I don’t…” Gabe started.
“It took us a while, but we discovered and tracked down one of your couriers. He gave up your number, and we traced it back to you.”
“That doesn’t—”
“We pulled it from your briefcase.” Hannety stared Gabe in the eyes, put down the phone on the table, and reached back into the container. “These”—he laid out several small bags on the table in front of Gabe—”were found in your dresser, hidden well, but not well enough. All various identifications from your known aliases.”
“Those aren’t mine,” Gabe finally got out.
“Enough!” Hannety slammed a hand to the table. “Seven years, and we’ve got you, finally. The least you can do is spare some tax-payer dollars and confess already. We’ve got you, Tyler Urlenchekov.”
Gabe stared at Hannety, straight in the eyes. “My name is Gabe, and I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’d like a lawyer.”
Notes/Thoughts/Ideas
Ok, this one could be a really fun thriller! A man captured by police at eventide and he doesn’t seem to know why. This mystical Tyler Urlenchekov is some arms dealer, or drug dealer, or something like that. They’ve been after him for seven years and can’t catch him. Now, they have Gabe in custody, and all the evidence points towards him.
So, we set up some fun possibilities here. First, Gabe is precisely what they say he is. Gabe is Tyler, and he’s going to try and fool everyone. Second, Gabe isn’t the guy but is being framed for it. Now, who’s framing him?
One option is the cop here. The other, which I think would be a fun twist, is that it’s Gabe’s wife. Obviously not mentioned yet, but I imagine he has a wife. That woman is really Tyler Urlenchekov. No one knows what Tyler looks like, so they don’t stop to think that he’s actually a she.
It could be a fun one!
What do you think of Eventide?
Who would you make the real culprit?
Leave your thoughts, your own story beginning/ending, flash-fiction, or whatever in the comments! Where did eventide or my story take you?
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