The Writing Test
Short story written in response to a “writing test.”
I recently applied for a job as a full-time fiction writer. A character sketch and setting were provided for this test. I probably would not have written about a male protagonist/main character of my own volition, so I appreciate the challenge this assignment provided. Let me know what you think!
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“A piece of cake.” Roger said.
Roger, my boss and sometimes partner, lied through his teeth. That too-white grin should have given him away, but I’d been distracted by the fogginess of too little sleep the night before.
Despite the boss’ warning that the building was deceptively boring, I was still expecting something a little more fortress-like, especially given the contents I needed to extract from its under side.
“How may I help you today?” Her clipped tone belying her frank assessment of my 6-foot frame and my second best charcoal suit.
“I’m here to inspect the labs in section A. I think the rest of the team may have arrived before me.”
“Certainly sir. I just got here, but let me check the log.” I knew what she’d find, just as I’d known to arrive just after shift change. The recon team had been thorough as always.
I set my requisite clipboard prop atop the counter, and gazed deeply into her eyes, as if she was the last woman on earth. That always gets the lonely ones.
“I hope you don’t mind my saying so, but you have the most luxurious hair I’ve ever seen. And please, call me Jake,” I stated, while puffing my chest out a bit.
“Well, aren’t you the charmer? And thank you!” She blushed and gave a little shake of that glorious red cloud of curls that reached nearly to the floor.
“I normally pin it up… but I was running late to work from the gym,” she said, clearly a bit flustered by my nearness. “Ah. Here it is. It looks like your team is just a few minutes ahead of you. If you give me just a minute, I can walk you to the lab.”
“I wouldn’t want to pull you away since you just arrived… and I know the way.” I was running behind, so I didn’t have to fake the urgency in my voice when I said, “Don’t trouble yourself. I’ve been here quarterly for the last few years and can find my way…. But I’d love to connect with you again. Are you free for dinner?”
She was beautiful, horn-rimmed 1970’s glasses notwithstanding. I did feel a wash of guilt from playing with her emotions, but not enough to forget my duty.
“I guess that would be alright… but only if you stop by to connect with me on your way out. I’ll let you know about dinner then.” She said as she gave her head another gentle shake, coyly tilting her head to the side and washing my ears with the sound of her lilting giggle. Her voice was so musical and enchanting, I felt real regret that we were not, in fact, likely to ever meet again.
“Until then…. I can’t wait,” I said, glancing over my shoulder, and then I treated her to one last megawatt smile. Entering the elevator to the lower level, I realized I’d forgotten to ask her name.
Exiting the elevator, I walked through the doorway leading to the security desk. The short ceiling, matched with the strange reddish glow of the lights lining the walls, made for a spooky tomb-like experience. Getting in and out quickly felt even more necessary. I hate being underground...though memories of my time in that Afghani dungeon have finally started to recede.
The guard seemed far more alert then I had hoped. I knew his type. Likely a former cop, or a cop moonlighting for dollars on the side. He was not exactly sneering, but his face was miles away from a smile. I wouldn’t be talking my way past this guy.
“Officer Friendly is it?” I said, looking down at his badge that clearly read ‘Farmer.’
“ID please,” he said humorlessly, as he glanced back to the small TV screen and the football game he’d been watching when I arrived. Not so alert after all. I took one more discreet look around. No cameras were in sight.
“Oh sure!” I said as I strode the remaining few steps to his desk. “Here, hold this!” I said as I threw the clipboard at his face and vaulted over it to land directly behind him. I pivoted 360 degrees, a move my childhood ballet teacher would have approved, then grabbed him in a chokehold.
I was glad the gun holstered on my left ankle hadn't been necessary. I didn’t want any more innocent deaths in my heart. He’d live. The bump on his head wasn’t that big, and a lot more than his discomfort was at stake.
Moments later, the guard’s sleeping body was stowed safely behind the desk. I donned his uniform, and with purpose, moved quickly down the hallway to finish the mission. My ‘Spidey Senses’ were tingling, and adrenaline was coursing through my veins. ‘And this is way too easy,’ I thought as I approached the door to Lab A.