This is another Creative Copy Challenge.

Miguel regained consciousness. How long had he been out this time? Trying to move, he realized he was still taped to the folding chair with cheap duct tape, but still taped none the less. He noticed this wasn't the same room he was in prior to blacking out. He wasn't sure if it was day or night. The plywood covering the window made sure of that. Blood stained his shirt. He took as many notes as he could from this new scenario.

Dammit. Denise got this for me.

He noticed the pain radiating from his left shoulder. It popped when he tried to move it. Time will tell if he'll ever get the range of motion he needs for his occupation. It hurt like hell.

Last time he woke up they were back in the room a few minutes later. Miguel looked around and noticed the camera on the wall next to the door.

What a horrible place for a camera.

The door opened and the same three men from before entered with smiles on their faces like they really enjoyed their jobs. Like Miguel noted, the camera was blocked when the door was opened. These guys must know the flaw because they close the door right away.

"Where do you get your outfits guys, Jersey Shore thrift shops??"

"Ha Ha, real funny wise ass!!"

Miguel smiled at Mr. Velvet's annoyance. Miguel had no idea what these guy's names were, let alone who they worked for. He named them based on the character traits they were showing during their time together. Mr. Velvet wore a purple velvet track suit. It suited his male pattern baldness and spare tire around his waist.

"Don't let him get to you. His jokes are about to come to an end if he doesn't start telling us what we want to know."

That was Mr. Gold. Every finger was adorned with a gold ring and he had enough gold chains around his neck to toe a Mac truck. He was the one responsible for the current state of his shoulder.

The bastard.

Pointing to the third guy, "Get the battery charged up."

The battery?

He followed The Poet as far as he could with his peripheral vision. He was carrying battery cables walked behind him where it hurt his eye when he strained to see what was going on. He heard a soft humming sound following by a metal bucket being filled with water. The lights in the room dimmed as the influx of electricity started to generate.


He called him The Poet not because he liked to wax Robert Frost or Shell Silverstein, but because he was actually a stuttering dumb ass. He couldn't put a complete sentence together without giving Miguel an aneurysm. The Poet brought the water bucket over to Miguel's feet. Two steps away from Miguel, The Poet spilled the bucket and its contents across the floor.

"You idiot!" Mr. Gold admonished.

"So I'm guessing your want ad for hired help didn't say experience preferred."

Miguel had to joke around, it was the only way he knew how to get under their skin. It was also a great stalling technique. Mr. Gold didn't laugh though as he punched Miguel square in the jaw. He and the chair fell backwards slamming against the floor.

Miguel now had ringing in his ears. He didn't hear word for word but he could tell that Velvet and Mr. Gold were getting the stuff together themselves. He struggled with his restraints while they were distracted. He was hoping to be knocked to the floor. The water is actually loosing the adhesive on the cheap duct tape. Miguel was able to get one arm free. The Poet grabbed Miguel's shoulders and lifted him back up. Miguel screamed in pain.

The scream was a good enough distraction for Miguel to grab The Poet's head and twist. The Poet slumped into Miguel's lap. Velvet and Mr. Gold rush over to Miguel pull The Poet off his lap and he collapse to the floor. They both look up at Miguel as he is holding The Poet's gun.



They fall to the floor.

He only has a few minutes at the most. He quickly removes the remaining restraints and rips the plywood off the wall. The cold dark winter air bites at his skin. He looks back down and grabs Velvet's track suit.

How ironic.

He jumps out the window and runs for the woods. His plan is to avoid the highway and major routes for road blocks. He's still being hunted as the one who killed his wife and son. He knows he's getting closer to solving this himself and prove his innocence.