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WHAT WAS YOUR FIRST CLUE? (The Origins of Dawn Meadows)

Sometime later…

Her hand went to her face. Touched her nose, mouth, eyes. Her fingers ran through her hair. Her flats scratched across the wooden floor. Ugh… what happened? She blinked her emerald eyes, lashes sticking the first few flutters. Stacks of books loomed up from all sides, seemingly bending in at the top. So strange. Why are they? Oh my goodness, I’m lying on the floor!

Dawn leaned forward, letting out a low groan, immediately putting a hand to her head. She suddenly recalled unceremoniously getting bonked on the head by a heavy book. It must have knocked me unconscious, she thought. Looking down, she saw the culprit book and squinted from the light of her cell phone shining in her eyes. Swiping them both up, she stood up on uncertain legs at first. Brushing off her tights, she inspected them for runs out a mixture of habit and expectation. She breathed a sigh of relief that they appeared to be in good repair. The last thing I need tonight is to get a detention because of a run in my stockings!

Feeling a bit more steady on her feet, Dawn noticed that she had a voicemail on her phone. Must have been when I was knocked out, she thought. Holding the book against her hip, she punched up the message and held the phone to her ear. Hannah’s voice crackled forth.
The look on Dawn’s face transitioned from passive, to quizzical, to confused, finally settling upon frightened as she reached the end of the voicemail. She immediately looked back over her shoulder, then the opposite direction down the aisle, casting the light of phone.

The call came from Hannah, she wanted to know where Dawn was and if she was okay? Why wasn’t she answering her phone. Hannah was watching the news in her dorm room and the news person was talking about in the inmate Ernest Rodriguez and how he was found hanging in his cell from an apparent suicide. Investigations were ongoing, and foul play had not been fully ruled out!

Oh my goodness! What was happening!? Why would Rodriguez do that? Was it foul play? Was this mystery person he was talking about, responsible? Did they know that Dawn had visited him in prison, asking questions? Would they come after her next!? Dawn’s mind was reeling, full on paranoia setting in.

She took a few deep breaths, trying to get herself under control, then punched a few things into her phone. Dawn struggled to concentrate while she slowly made her way down the aisle. After the business with her phone, she focused on finding a table where she could settle down to work. There was no telling how much time she had.

To be continued...

(This picture was made in Daz Studio 3.1.2.24 and postwork in Adobe Photoshop CS2)

Description

WHAT WAS YOUR FIRST CLUE? (The Origins of Dawn Meadows)

Sometime later…

Her hand went to her face. Touched her nose, mouth, eyes. Her fingers ran through her hair. Her flats scratched across the wooden floor. Ugh… what happened? She blinked her emerald eyes, lashes sticking the first few flutters. Stacks of books loomed up from all sides, seemingly bending in at the top. So strange. Why are they? Oh my goodness, I’m lying on the floor!

Dawn leaned forward, letting out a low groan, immediately putting a hand to her head. She suddenly recalled unceremoniously getting bonked on the head by a heavy book. It must have knocked me unconscious, she thought. Looking down, she saw the culprit book and squinted from the light of her cell phone shining in her eyes. Swiping them both up, she stood up on uncertain legs at first. Brushing off her tights, she inspected them for runs out a mixture of habit and expectation. She breathed a sigh of relief that they appeared to be in good repair. The last thing I need tonight is to get a detention because of a run in my stockings!

Feeling a bit more steady on her feet, Dawn noticed that she had a voicemail on her phone. Must have been when I was knocked out, she thought. Holding the book against her hip, she punched up the message and held the phone to her ear. Hannah’s voice crackled forth.
The look on Dawn’s face transitioned from passive, to quizzical, to confused, finally settling upon frightened as she reached the end of the voicemail. She immediately looked back over her shoulder, then the opposite direction down the aisle, casting the light of phone.

The call came from Hannah, she wanted to know where Dawn was and if she was okay? Why wasn’t she answering her phone. Hannah was watching the news in her dorm room and the news person was talking about in the inmate Ernest Rodriguez and how he was found hanging in his cell from an apparent suicide. Investigations were ongoing, and foul play had not been fully ruled out!

Oh my goodness! What was happening!? Why would Rodriguez do that? Was it foul play? Was this mystery person he was talking about, responsible? Did they know that Dawn had visited him in prison, asking questions? Would they come after her next!? Dawn’s mind was reeling, full on paranoia setting in.

She took a few deep breaths, trying to get herself under control, then punched a few things into her phone. Dawn struggled to concentrate while she slowly made her way down the aisle. After the business with her phone, she focused on finding a table where she could settle down to work. There was no telling how much time she had.

To be continued...

(This picture was made in Daz Studio 3.1.2.24 and postwork in Adobe Photoshop CS2)