This blog post is a part of my new effort to write single-page short stories or sections or short stories. The goal being to facilitate faithfulness to regular blog posting and writing. I’ll circle back around to my favorites and build upon them in time but for now, I want to follow the approach of generating ideas and making the creative process less ambiguous. The following short story is written backward as an exercise in suspense and pacing. 

It was only after that long and arduous pursuit that Bethany finally collapsed, gun in hand, safe for now.

Two hours previously Bethany was walking gingerly through the sewers of 18^th New York City, looking for the underground entrance to a thief’s den she had heard rumors about. With each step, the squish of the soft earth erupted in an acrid smell that she was slowly tuning out. Her adrenaline demanded as much, pushing all other thoughts and feelings out of her mind, allowing in only the slowly appearing image a small wooden door illuminated by her torch.

Halting her approach, she loosened her leather rucksack from her shoulders and by the light of the torch and its flickering flame rustled through the various items she had brought in preparation. A pistol, ten bullets, a few ounces of black powder, a leather sack full of smooth white cotton, flint caps in a small round tin, a sourdough bun the size of two fists with a thick crust, two candles, a piece of flint, a sliver of polished steel, a crossbow and ten bolts each with a menacing iron head. It was quite a bit and she felt every pound but entering this den on her own would require precision and force. She removed the candle and lit it by the torch, then extinguished the torch on a dryer patch of earth that had risen above the water by several inches.  

That same morning, Bethany had been strolling through the government district on her way to look for bounties at the jailhouse. It was hers to choose between three jobs. The first was a murderer, apparently well versed in swordsmanship and on the run within the city. But Bethany had no desire to spend the next few days running all over New York City. The second was the task of escorting a particularly detested politician to trial through the streets of the city. Likely to involve a small mob of innocent but angry civilians, Bethany knew the situation could turn violent in a heartbeat and she didn’t have the stomach to hurt an innocent fool.

In fact, the last assignment stood out among these other less approachable options immediately to her. It was a bounty written simply. Target: Phoulus Timothius, Offense: Theft of the governor’s property, Location: Unknown, Last seen: The Forget-Me-Now Tavern. Bethany loved puzzles and couldn’t resist diving headfirst into this assignment. She knew the Forget-Me-Now, she’d spilled a few drinks there herself after a job gone well. Horatio would know who she was looking for.

Harotia was ambivalent about seeing her, as always. “What brings you around here? Got another kill to drink off?”