Harper White
Bio
Prospective writer, currently an Undergraduate Student
Stories (2/0)
Hot Water
"Courage is being scared to death and saddling up anyway." —John Wayne Her boots slammed against the pavement as she made her way into the building, her service weapon in her hand and her finger poised on the trigger. She stepped forward with a paced caution, her eyes wide as she adjusted to the lighting. The building that towered around her was dark and musty, filling her with a damp chill, despite her gear. She wore a heavy Kevlar vest, a dark blue long-sleeved V-neck that snuggled her body. Black jeans hugged her legs, a heavy black belt buckling the waist close to her sharp hips. Her feet were clad in sleek black combat boots, the thick soles silent on the concrete, while the heavy breaths of her partner stirring the hair around her ears. She couldn't help but flinch as the A/C rattled to life, clanging through the air vents like a pin ball in an arcade machine. She raised her hand over her shoulder, motioning for her partner to move forward. Her eyes remained fixed on her path as he slid past her, his shoulder brushing hers. He was dressed in similar attire. She watched his dark silhouette as it became outlined against a cylindrical light that hung from the high vaulted ceiling. The hallway was long but narrow, various forms of boxes and crates stacked up alongside the walls. Seven men and four women followed closely behind her; she could hear their heavy footsteps and the shuffle of their guns as they adjusted their grips. Slight irritation shot through her, wishing her and her partner could have gone in solo. She halted as he stopped in front of her, a slight hang motion gesturing for her to wait.
By Harper White6 years ago in Criminal
Hot Water
"Initiative is doing the right thing without being told." Victor Hugo The sound of her heart best slammed against her head, echoing around the seemingly endless chasms of her soul. Everything around her was silent, the steady ringing in her ear dying down to a low buzz. Her hand jumped to her necklace, twisting the silver pendant around her finger. The harsh white light of the courtroom glinted on the horse pendant, a sharp glare catching the prosecutor's eye. The tall man blinked, and the glare was gone. Her other hand was balled in the soft fabric of her blue dress, wrinkling what her mother had carefully ironed hours before. Wavy, dirty blonde hair fell down her neck, ending in graceful swirls where it brushed along her shoulders. Her wide brown eyes were fixed ahead of her, her mouth dully responding to the questions being thrown at her.
By Harper White6 years ago in Criminal