Thursday Taster 3: Rainbow Catcher

Hello and Welcome to Thursday Taster again. (Thursday cinema will be up later on today.) Talented writers from all over the blogosphere gather together to give readers tasty parts of their work in progress, you can find the list here. 

 

As I'm currently working on the edits of Rainbow Catcher, that's the project I will be presenting until it is ready. Today, we continue right where we left off last week. As it's under editing, if you see anything funny, hit me on the head in the comments. 

 

Jason turned the TV off and stood up.

“Time for you to sleep and time for me to go to work,” he said.

“Can’t you stay a little longer,” Clarissa pleaded with puppy's eyes, but these eyes didn’t work on Jason anymore. He knew better what was good for her.

“I’ll be back when I’m done, you know it, as soon as I can,” he said, “if you have a problem use the dialophone.”

“I don’t like this dialophone, your voice sounds all funny in it and I can’t even see half of your face,” Clarissa answered putting.

“That’s because you slept on it again, I’ll repair it tomorrow, now it’s time to sleep,” Jason said, putting the dialophone back on the night table, wondering why she would always sleep with it without calling him.

Jason walked out of the room, turned off the light and closed the door gently before putting his back against it and taking a deep breath. It was more and more difficult for him to part with Clarissa. Every day that passed could be the last and he wondered what he would do if she was to die before he came back. 

He had had a long discussion with the doctor about the rainbow and the operation. He didn’t want to alarm Clarissa so he never told her the real outcome of it. But she was getting worse, more quickly than ever. She needed the rainbow and fast. And this time he didn’t care about the means, so he went to the black market. It was illegal and considered stealing as the rainbow didn’t go through the general government taxation process, but emergencies required emergency measures.

The man he had seen that day was not the kind of man that you could fine in the phone book. When he entered the bar, he was sweating and repeatedly trying to wipe his forehead with an handkerchief already wet. His suit seemed too small for his large stomach. The grey color made him look like an undertaker, and he was clearly not far from it. Jason had placed the red rose he had asked for on his table, it was the sign that he was the guy he should meet.

“I’m…” Jason started.

“No names,” the man answered with a low voice, looking around as if he feared to be heard.

Follow my blog with Bloglovin

Find us on Google+