LUCIEN TELFORD
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From Beneath a Perpetual Synthetic Dusk...

Information Romeo

2/3/2022

 
Further to Information Papa, I am super excited to announce that I have made the Final Round of the NYCMidnight 250 word Micro Fiction Challenge with "Wet Work," which I qualified with a second place in my group of 46 writers.
The genre was Sci-Fi, the action was "Pushing someone in a pool," and the word was 'lock.' From 5700+ writers I am now part of the final 125 in a winner takes all 24 hour writing challenge, taking place this Saturday.

Wet Work, by Lucien Telford
     Backyard pools. Scenes for summertime bliss and play, no place for a homicide detective to be spending an autumn evening. 
     “Bot’s not showing anything unexpected, boss,” Fong said while swiping gestures through his glasses, vector graphics displayed in-lens allowing him control of the airborne drone. At their feet, the water writhed with the motion of something living. A reflective swirling metallic sheen blocking light from below its surface.
     Detective Woo reminisced, the ghost of his baby brother fooling around poolside after dark. A slip. A fall. A drowning.
     Not his fault, the psychiatrist would continue to say.
     “No word from the owners?”
     “No responses yet, boss.”
     “The house closed up?”
     “Lock and key.”
     Woo pulled a coin from his pocket, tossed it at the pool. It bounced, coming to rest on the tile. 
     He dragged a wooden deck chair to the pool’s edge. “Help me lift this.”
     Together they hurled it at the reflective layer. The surface protection glitched, momentarily vanishing then reappearing, giving a brief glance at a headless body drifting beneath the water, simultaneously cleaving the chair in two. One half remained below.
     A uniformed officer approached from the home’s rear glass doors. “There’s a severed head visible on the kitchen counter. Scanned and ran it through Facial Recog and got a hit. It’s the home owner’s son.”
​     Pushed their own child into a swimming pool with an active security layer. Not my fault, Woo reminded himself, picking up his coin, his brother’s memory no longer distant.
Picture

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