The Sword In the Ceiling

My wife got a Rocketbook Everlast notebook at work earlier this week. It's something that you can write in, scan the pages to upload somewhere and then erase the page with water and a towel. I decided to try it out so I wrote a quick one-page story and then scanned it to my Google Drive. It worked pretty well.

Not an actual scan.

I would like to use it more because I like being able to hand write my stories and then I can just dual-screen from Google Drive or Evernote in order to type it. We'll see what happens but so far, the Rocketbook does what it's supposed and wiped clean like it says. No complaints so far. And now, The Sword In the Ceiling. Except for spelling, this has not been edited.

The door was open when I got home, which was odd. I know I closed and locked it this morning when I went to work. I walked inside and saw everything as I left it with one exception.

A sword was sticking out of the ceiling. The handle, a gold bejeweled thing, glimmered in the sunlight coming through the window. It looked like a real sword--a valuable sword which made its presecence in my home even stranger.

I went through the house just making sure everything was as I left it and that the sword and the door were it.

I grabbed the handle of the sword and pulled it out of my ceiling. I looked at it and how new but yet antique it looked. During my search of the house, I never found a sheath so where was I going to put this thing? I guess I could hang it over a doorway or something.

Why would someone break into a house and jam a sword into the ceiling? That's a question I don't really want to know the answer to.

I took the sword and placed it in a chair. I sat down and turned on the TV. I flipped around the channels until I saw the sword on a local news channel. "...Anyone with information on the missing medieval sword should contact law enforcement."

Liberty #61: Pineapple & Banana

One
This is the city. Redemption City. Built in the Middle East as an apology for western colonization after World War III, there are a million stories in this city and this will be one of them. It was two in the morning and most of the city was asleep but the Northern Karaj Harbor was bustling with activity. In one of the warehouses, two men, one with a handtruck approached a massive crate surrounded by five other men.

“That’s a big crate,” one said.

“Filled with the finest drugs in the Middle East,” the one with the handtruck said. “Let’s take a peek and make sure our cargo is still intact.”

They pried open the lid to the crate and moved the various fruits covering the drugs to the side. “They look safe to me,” the one chuckled. “That’s some big-ass fruit in there.” The man looked away to grab the lid.

“Yeah, like you’re so petite,” a voice said, coming from the crate.

The two men looked down and saw a pineapple and banana pointing guns at them. “You’re under arrest for drug trafficking” the banana said. Other officers began rushing into the warehouse surrounding the men and the crate.

“Good work, you two,” Chief Morse said as he bent down to shake Pineapple and Banana’s hands. “This definitely puts a dent in the Great Pumpkin’s empire.”

“Maybe for a day. Within 24 hours, he’ll have twice as many drugs as this out on the street,” Pineapple said, despondent.

“We’ll get him, Piney. This is a huge start,” Banana said.

“In other cases, there’s one that we would like you to take a look into,” Morse said.

“What is it?”

“A missing person. I’ll give you the details when we get back to City Center.”

“Missing person?” Pineapple asked. “Special Detectives don’t handle missing persons.”

“They do when the missing person is brown,” Morse said as he walked away.




Decades ago, when Persia was created from the ruins of war-torn Iran, Iraq, Turkmenistan, and Afghanistan, the constitution included preference to Islam. Persia was split at the Karaj River into West Persia and East Persia. One government controlled the country as a whole but each side had their own governments but appointed delegates for the country to serve as the overseeing government. The chain of command was further complicated by the President and Congress of the United States being very involved despite Persia being a wholly sovereign country. The preference to Islam was given, again, as an apology.

“So who are we looking for?” Banana asked.

“Shanzay Younan. 17-years-old,” Morse handed Banana a picture. “She’s been missing for a little more than a week. Local police has told the parents that they are looking and investigating but the parents aren’t so sure.”

“Local police?” Pineapple questioned. “She didn’t go missing in Redemption City, did she?”

“Nope. Mieville.”

“Is that even in our jurisdiction?” Banana asked.

“We cover all of the District of Wisconsin and Mieville is in Wisconsin,” Morse said. “You are going to have help on this case.”

“Help? Why would we need help?” Pineapple asked.

“Mieville is a small town and they may not take lightly to answering questions from pineapple and banana detectives from Redemption City,” Morse explained.

“Who is it?”

“Caitlyn Bilko. She just transferred from New Assyria.”

“Bilko. Where do I know that name?” Pineapple thought.

“Probably from my father,” a voice said. “His picture is hanging in the hall of heroes on the way to department.”

“Edmond Bilko, of course,” Pineapple said.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Banana said, extending his hand to Caitlyn and using his charming voice.

“Nice to meet you, too,” Caitlyn accepted.

“Here. Let me get you the case file,” Morse said. Caitlyn stepped toward the desk.

Behind Caitlyn, Pineapple smacked Banana on the arm. What are you doing? he mouthed.

What? She’s cute, Banana mouthed back.

Just because you are shaped like a dick doesn’t mean you have to act like one.

Banana was taken aback. How dare you, sir. I did not choose how I look.

“Are you two coming up with a strategy for looking for this girl?” Caitlyn asked, noticing their gesturing and mouthing words.

“Yeah,” Banana said. “Just bouncing ideas off each other.”