The Rose Breifcase

 

A black briefcase sits upright beneath a booth style table in the Cup of Mod coffee shop in upstate New York. Its glossy black surface is unsettled with the image of a crimson rose so bright it emits a soft red glow. Two men in their early twenties wearing blue aprons with Hanks Hardware printed in white lettering; walk into the coffee shop, a weak bell rings with the motion of the opening door. A man in a plain grey business suit looks at the door a moment before diverting his eyes back to his book which reads Citizen Kane on the cover. The song Crimson and Clovers plays in the background. They sit at the coffee table with the strange suitcase underneath.  
 
“You gotta be kidding me man, you couldn’t just tell her your name was Chuck and not Buck?” One of the men says while taking off his name tag and placing it on the table. It reads Charlie in stiff black print.  
 
“Right, and completely ruin the whole mood?” Chuck says with a sneer.  
“Besides, what does it matter? It’s not like I’m gonna see her again and at least this way if I got her pregnant she’ll be looking for Buck and not me,” he continues.  
 
“That might be the shittiest thing I’ve ever heard you say,” says Charlie, clearly amused.  
 
“Easy for you to say, you’ve never had to go halfsies on an abortion,” Chuck says as he looks over to see a waiter standing at their table. He’s wearing a pristine white apron which seems out of place considering the sweat on his brow and the overworked expression in his eyes.  
 
“Um, my names Craig and Ima be your waiter today.” The man says each word with effort trying to mask his obvious handicap. Chuck and Charlie give each other a small smile.  
 
“Just coffee bro,” Chuck says. 
 
“Yessir.” The man says with an ecstatic smile as if he is exactly where he wants to be in life. As the man limps away the lowered voice of Chuck echoes through the small diner. “Thanks a lot freak show.” Craig’s smile fades slightly as he limps into the back.  
 
“I hope he doesn’t drool in the coffee,” Chuck says as he handles one of the two empty coffee mugs in boredom.  
 
“You think we’re gonna be able to close early tonight?” asks Charlie as he leans back, stretching his legs. A soft thud issues from under the table. A moment later they both look under and find the odd suitcase. As Charlie reaches for it Chuck is quicker, grabbing the item first. He then sets it on the table, as the two men look at the strange new object a shadow falls over their faces, their tones deepen and their minds twist as the rose begins to throb.  
 
“Crazy... what do you think is inside?” Charlie asks in wonder.  
 
“None of your damn business.” Chuck responds with an angry tone. Charlie’s face twists into a mad sneer.  
 
“What the f**k is that supposed to mean? I saw it first!” Charlie says in a loud voice. The Rose begins to throb faster as if a beating heart reaching its climax. Just then the waiter shows up with a steaming pot of coffee. The tip of his tongue is visible from the side of his mouth as he carefully pours the hot fluid into the mugs, not spilling a drop in the process. When he's done another smile crests his innocent face as if he had just accomplished some impossible feat.  
 
“Can I get you gentlemen anything else?” Craig says in labored speech.  
 
“No thanks Radio, we’re all set.” Chuck responds, never taking his eyes off of Charlie. Craig looks confused before limping into the back once again, his smile slowly receding in defeat. The lines on his face would indicate that this has happened a lot. Charlie reaches for the briefcase.  
 
“Go ahead, touch it… I dare you.” Chuck says in a challenging tone, the whites of his eyes now visible around the pupil giving him an irrational look. Charlie suddenly reaches for it. The Rose grows brighter. Chuck responds by throwing hot coffee into his face. Charlie reels from the pain, screaming. Chuck then reaches over the table and begins choking the tortured man. The Rose casts a red light upon his maddened face, creating ominous shadows while their wills bends to its dark desire. It no longer beats, but consistent in its red splendor which is as crimson as passion and just as alluring. 

-Later that night.  
 
A police officer takes the statement of a business man wearing a gray suit. An ambulance siren blares in the back ground and the once quiet coffee shop is now teaming with people. A gurney supporting a body under a white sheet wheels past, a name tag reading Charlie rests on top. Crazed laughter can be heard from inside of a police car sounding muffled and senile from somewhere in the distance.  
 
“Well I guess that’s everything, thank you Mr. Hearst. Oh and there was a briefcase found at the scene, do you know who it belongs to? The officer asks in a thick New York accent.  
 
“Oh yes." The man says, pausing a moment before he continues.  
"That’s mine. I must have lost it in all the chaos.” He says.  
 
“It’s on the table over there. I’m going to clear this place out while we tape it off. You might wanna grab it quick." The officer says.  
 
Mr. Hearst quickly goes to the table carefully stepping over the chalk lined silhouette of a Charlie’s body. He places the copy of Citizen Kane in his pocket trading it for the briefcase which he holds to his chest with both hands, a shadow shrouds his face as he exits the shop and immediately plunges into the dark alley behind the diner. His eyes dart back and forth as he reverently unlatches the briefcase with greedy eyes. As the lid opens a soft green glow illuminates the once dark alley way. The look on Mr. Hearst's face seems one of utter joy... or fear. The wide grin begins to grow even wider as every pearly white tooth reflects the green light with eerie splendor, when just then; in the blink of an eye Mr. Hearst's body suddenly winks from existence with a soft, pop. Faint red mist rises towards the moonlight as the briefcase drops to the ground, the lid suddenly shuts upon impact robbing the dark space of its green glow. A moment later, Craig opens the back door holding a large trash bag. He limps towards a dumpster and with great effort, heaves the black plastic bag into the container, panting heavily. On his way back he spots the strange object, its soft red glow barely visible in the lackluster space. He limps towards the dark shape in awe before squatting down in front of it, his eyes suddenly wide. Carefully he unlatches the briefcase and once again the soft glow floods the dark corridor. A wide smile crests his smooth face, but only for a moment. He quickly closes the case looking satisfied and with a careless gesture, tosses it into the dumpster. Walking back to the diner he begins singing the lyrics of Crimson and Clovers with perfect pitch and dancing as he enters the back door.  
 
-The next morning.  
 
"Whoa, Larry hold it. Something’s in here... It's some kinda suitcase." A man wearing a blue jumpsuit and yellow gloves says while peering into the dumpster.

 

 

Reviews

[Karen Ingram]

Wow. Great job painting Chuck as a total jerk. I hated that guy immediately - which I assume is exactly what you were going for.

I'm a little confused about the ending. Why does the evil/magic briefcase have no effect on Craig? Is it because he's not a bad guy? Or is he "in on it" with Hearst? Also why does the briefcase have an effect on Chuck? Is Mr. Hearst some kind of emotional vampire? An avenging angel? A mischievous imp? (You don't really have to say why. Many good stories are unexplained. I'm just throwing them out there so you can see what I thought as I read it.) I look forward to reading more.

[Bluelaser]

You're initial statement is more true than you know, I really am trying to tell you what I'm seeing; an old Twilight Zone story. I use to watch that show all of the time and was inspired to portray that same vibe. I guess I must have tried to hard...

[Rainbow Rider]

Like something from the 'Twilight Zone, or the old 'Night Gallery' series. A captivating story with a couple of morals built in. My only suggestion would be to try and re-word a few spots to try and SHOW the reader more with your words instead of telling us what is happening with your words.

Take your opening paragraph for an example:

"A black briefcase sits upright beneath a booth style table in the Cup of Mod coffee shop in upstate New York. Its glossy black surface is unsettled with the image of a crimson rose so bright it emits a soft red glow. Two men in their early twenties wearing blue aprons with Hanks Hardware printed in white lettering; walk into the coffee shop, a weak bell rings with the motion of the opening door. A man in a plain grey business suit looks at the door a moment before diverting his eyes back to his book which reads Citizen Kane on the cover. The song Crimson and Clovers plays in the background. They sit at the coffee table with the strange suitcase underneath."

You are telling us what we are seeing, instead of showing us with your words. Don't get me wrong, this is a great opening, with excellent visuals, but it is more of an introduction to the start of a play then a story. it could have a lot more pop for the reader if you switched things around, without really changing anything in the paragraph. Just a redo of the order of how you brings things into the action.

Other then that, I really enjoyed the story and the hidden morals within.