Still working on 'Gubacsi Dulu', my short sci-fi story. If you keep going over the same pages again and again, nothing's gonna happen. So I've finally agreed on the style and I'm working through it.
Doing the ol' Iron Writer Challenge every week, too, AND I've found another weekly writing challenge with no strings attached... More Odds Than Ends... brand new, started this year.
Check it out if you're interested...
I've had a go at the 1st week with the first 'spare prompt'...300 words...
Prompt - Describe an undercover police officer disguised as a homeless man through the eyes of someone who is able to recognize him as a cop.
Looking out through the blinds as I usually do, and watching the street for the next drop off kinda gives you a sixth sense. At first I thought I was going paranoid and shrugged it off but then your brain won't stop when it gets an inkling, telling you something's not right with this picture. All was normal in the street, at the grocers, the barbers, the tobacconists, even the watchmaker was open after a week closed due to sickness in the family, but what caught my eye was the homeless guy sitting on the corner, arse against the wall with his knees up on his chest. Sure, I could see from here the couple of days’ stubble on his face and that his clothes looked like he'd slept in them for a while, and his manner was that of a drunk. But people ignored him as they walked by. Now by itself, that isn't strange, but I mean, no one noticed him. Absolutely no one looked his way. It was like he wasn't sitting there and stinking the place out. I told young Joe to get me some oranges and I watched as he walked right by the guy. I even showed him the guy when he came back up. Nope, he hadn't seen him, or more to the point, smelt him. Yep, that was my problem. If he was a homeless guy, either he'd just been to the shelter and got himself a shave and a shower, maybe some new apparel, which he hadn't, or he smelt like shit from the street. Which he didn't. Occasionally I caught him looking our way, towards the front door, our front door. The door with no distinguishing marks, signs or features for strikingly obvious reasons. This guy was an undercover cop.
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