Forging ahead with fictional endeavours: ~ Write a life on a page and hurry not to its grave; abhor not the coming age, for eternal is the next page. ~ Read what you will, I hope you will enjoy reading as much as I do writing.

Posts tagged ‘crime’



This one’s for Friday Fictioneers.  Olivia featured earlier in ‘Typo‘.

Olivia ignored the beaten stray trailing along behind her. Some scraps, and she was forever loyal. Olivia had other concerns. Ever since ‘the incident’ local kids had taken to vandalising her property. She came to an abrupt halt as her precious home came into view. Fists trembled as nails bit into palms. Little Bastards! There they were… Egging her door! The stray sprang past, chasing the vandals off with ferocious snarls. Shrieks satisfied her ears. The stray sat down on her door-step with a sense of entitlement. “All right, Willa, you can stay.”


Prayer for the dying.


I’ve borrowed this photo from Jeremy’s Thursday Challenge.  It wasn’t the intended prompt, I think, but it inspired me, soo… I give you this flash-fic.  I warn you it does deal with terrorism but from an alternative point of view because I, quite frankly, am tired of the muslim = terrorist/extremist notion. This is not directed at Christianity either, so please hold the flames. 🙂 And, as a final note, if you have lost loved ones as the result of extremist behaviour or have strong opinions on terrorism/religion, and may be offended please skip over this bit of fiction – no offence is intended.

Prayer for the dying.

On the bench facing the park a man sat in plain clothes with an open book in his lap. To passers-by he was reading. If they had ventured a closer inspection they would have noted he clutched a crucifix.


“May Christ, Who was crucified for your sake, free you from excruciating pain.”

15:45 10s

“May Christ, Who died for you, free you from the death that never ends.”

15:45 20s

“May Christ, the Son of the living God, set you in the ever green loveliness of His Paradise, and may He, the true Shepherd, recognize you as one of His own.”

15:45 40s

“May you see your Redeemer face to face and, standing in His presence forever, may you see with joyful eyes Truth revealed in all its fullness.”

15:46 The explosion tore buildings indiscriminately.


He rose and was lost in the confusion around him.


Abraham flicked on the evening news. “…tragic bombing of a London mosque has now claimed 56 lives with injury counts in 100s. Father Timothy Brown has been arrested for withholding vital information about the bomb. Police currently have no evidence linking him to the crime itself…” Abraham flicked the TV off. He might have known the old bastard would turn himself. “He never did have faith…”

By the time police raided Abraham’s home, he was long gone and a dangerous new terror threat was in the making.



Here’s one for Monday’s finish the story.   I’m afraid I bent the rules a little today.  The original starting line is – “Little did they know when the photographer took their picture that they would find themselves trapped in a painting.”  I couldn’t keep the original wording and have it suit my piece.

Little did the victims know that when the photographer took their picture they would find themselves trapped forever in a 2-dimensional prison. They were the lucky ones.

Decades later and Professor Klein was still cleaning up after the serial killer Thomas ‘The evaporator’ Cline. His estranged grandson had earnt the moniker for the odd fashion in which he had made is victims ‘disappear’ – often from busy streets; without fuss or chaos. Thomas’s methods were sociopathic; he would send strange ransom demands along-side increasingly larger sections of the body to his victim’s families. No matter how his damned demands were met the lost souls never returned. The sadistic killer was eventually tracked down via postal routes but the method in which he made people vanish was never officially discovered. That knowledge belonged to the eccentric Prof. Klein alone. Once he finished freeing the poor souls from their photographic prison he would burn all his research, along with the cursed Kapture Kern* prototype and take the bitter secret to his impending grave.

*Kern is a camera of German design from the 1920’s


I don’t often use prompts from Writing 201, but when I do I go to town with it. 🙂  An (Almost) Double Acrostic featuring as much internal rhyme as I could manage.

‘Murder?’ She wrote. ‘Not Guilty’ she voteD

Innocence is real, feel I

Senseless; victim defencelesS

Truth trapped by deceiT

Ruthless lawyer, truth destroyeR

Unstable, unable; defenceless yoU

Sadly now, despair allowS

Truth to surrender; impaired by a cheaT

Mr. Right


Yay. A Story! Today is officially productive.  (Nevermind the housework I did or job interview I had.)  The first prompt,  dictating the scenario, has been borrowed from Mayhem Monday. The second has been borrowed from Picture It and Write. This one’s gone to a dark, dark place again.  Feel free to comment/leave con-crit ect.

It had been a quick, competent snatch-and-run. Eleanor just wished she hadn’t been on the receiving end. The fabric restraints were rubbing her raw. The chair was becoming highly uncomfortable.  “Hel…lo?” Eleanor tried to peek from under her blindfold. All she could distinguish were faint ridges of concrete. There was an irritating scent that clung; much like the dankness of a damp basement. The chair creaked as she tested the joints. Hmmm, one collective tug and I can pull this to pieces. Thank you, God, for flat-pack furniture! “Please don’t wreck my furniture.” Eleanor started, uselessly turning her head towards the speaker. Damn, all she could see was barely lit stairs and nylon socks. “If you untie me, I won’t have too.” That’s it, keep calm. Figure out what he wants and look for an opportunity to escape. There was a soft chuckle as the mystery man flipped the lights on, followed by muffled footfalls as he circled her and tugged the blindfold loose. It fell limply around her neck; his hands still holding the ends. Eleanor could not repress the shudder that rippled through her shoulders. It would be too easy for the stranger to strangle her with the former blindfold.

“I will untie you. Once you’re calm, that is.”

“I am calm,” Eleanor replied, proud that her inflection hid the dread. She caught his eye as he came into view and held her gaze as he towered over her.suit “Are you?” He asked, caressing her cheek with a nicely toned hand. Eleanor’s dread grew with a sense of foreboding that traced through her, much like his hand had her cheek. She was immediately aware of his frame; beneath the moderately expensive suit she detected muscle tone. Oh, god, let me be faster! She thought as she took in surprisingly well-designed features. “Ye-es…” There was that chuckle again. It did nothing to sooth the rising dread. He knelt in front of Eleanor, elbows pressing into her thighs, cupping her cheeks with a firm grip. “I’ve always loved the confident way you carry yourself, but this look isn’t bad either.” Eleanor froze. She would remember such a face, if they had met. This was stalker talk. The panic began to needle her gut. “Flattery is more effective without restraints,” Eleanor replied, in a flat quip. A thumb now traced her features; her flesh burning in it’s wake. “Sorry. This was the only way to get your attention,” he replied; his expression an innocent contrast to his actions. Eleanor clamped down on an influx of bile. “With a face like that you only had to approach me. Preferably in public. You currently have me riveted; why am I here?” She replied, with a thinly veiled pretence towards composure.

“Because I love you.” As her brain froze she felt the burning of hysteria bubble up beside the needles of panic and for a moment she was completely still. Pouncing, he took advantage of her moment of paralysis; pulling her into a deep kiss. There was bile in Eleanor’s mouth again. He shot back retching. The hysteria burnt through her shock and chair was pulled to pieces before he could react. Somehow a chair leg made it’s way into her hands. “Crazy bastard!” -Whap- “You’re good looking!” -Whap- “You clearly have money!” -Whap- “Why the HELL did you not just come up to me like a normal person?!” Eleanor returned to the present. Her kidnapper was now guarding his face with a very confused expression. Eleanor took her chance. She bolted up the stairs, slamming the door shut. Brilliant! He’s left the key in the lock! Eleanor turned the key and made a break to freedom. The last words she heard: “Do you know how hard it is to get blood out of a suit?!” Accompanied by violent thumping.



I wrote! Woohoo.  Sick feeling, you have lost! Bwhahahaha.  Prompts for this one have been borrowed from Adrian Lilly. If you are inspired by them please write your own fic.

It’s #MayhemMonday, and, you need to think quickly!

You’re riding your bike when you see someone nab a child into a van.

What do you do?

Mid-afternoon on a blazing summers’ day. Gah, why was the world shifting of it’s own accord? The water bottle was now completely drained. Not a lukewarm droplet to spare… Maybe a ride around the block hadn’t been wise when the bikes plastic seat had become so hot that leather stuck uncomfortably to private places. It was taking a brief rest in the shade of a tree that I first noted the van. It was nondescript; black with the look off having sat around one too many construction sites. The vehicle was pulled up too the curb. A dishevelled man was talking to a blonde child of, maybe, five years. The scene didn’t look right. What was it one the news this morning? The story about the child abductions? “Shit!” The bastard was offering her something. Pedals in motion, the bike sped towards the girl. A few seconds later I was around the corner with the little cherub screaming blue bloody murder in a deafened ear. A safe distance later 000 was called. Several nasty bites and half an hour later, blazing blue sirens appeared and she was safe. But something wasn’t right as the coppers pulled up. There was the cautious approach, then -Wham- dirt in my mouth.

?” There of cold steel against my wrists. The copper pulled back. Clear as day the kid was sobbing the arms of her abductor!

Please feel free to leave comments, constructive crit ect.

Directionally challenged

rattleI had fun with this one, I can’t lie.  It’s fiction with a musical interlude.  Sing the short verse to the tune of postman pat. It’s a riot!  The photo prompts and story started have been borrowed from Monday’s finish the story. If you’d like to join head on over.

Directionally Challenged

“Diamond Jack had his hideout next to the Rattle Snake River.”

Diamond Jack, Diamond Jack

Diamond Jack and his grey and black hack.

Early in the evening, just as day is leaving

He rustles all the cattle in his truck.

Diamond Jack, Diamond Jack

Diamond Jack and his grey and black hack.

All the owls are screeching

And the night is leaching

Jack feels he’s a very wealthy man

Everybody knows Sheriff Colt’s villain,

all the farmers cheer as Colt dogs the fleeing man

But Colt can never be sure,

Where the cattle are going (lowing)

Perhaps (whip crack)

off to foreign shores.

Miss Colt placed her chalk down. “Diamond Jack was a notorious cattle rustler, and his feats have become part of local folk lore. Can anyone tell me why Sheriff Colt failed to find his hideout?”

Tentatively a mousy girl put her hand. “Don’t you know, miss? Your grandpa got lost!” Miss Colt chuckled; the family secret was safe for another year.

Seven deadly sins V2.0

I’ve been nominated for ‘The lovely blog Award’ a second time. o.0 What is this? It has to be a conspiracy! ~sedatives and rubber room now on standby~ I’ve only ever been this popular with -bullies-! (Thanks Brooks)(V1.0 here)

Okayiess, I will used the cursed no. 7 again for facts but I’m gonna have to skip out on nominations this time (sowwies guys, there’s a lot of you I’d like to nominate but my brain’s in protest mode so trawling through the list of blogs I follow is a bit much right now.)

1) I’m as nutty as I seem, but I hide behind friendly, shy politeness until I’ve reeled in my prey. >.> <.< >.>

2) I was a grammar nazi. Once. Then I discovered how fun it was to bend the rules. 😉

3) I have had to be escorted of a property for my own safety.  The flatmates that my ex and I lived with were drug abusers. We had already had the police out on several occasions but one night he flipped out and tried to come through the door. By this point we had barricaded it and I was sat behind the door with a carving knife like a good soldier’s daughter.

4) Same housemate, earlier on in our stay. Tried to burn me in shower by suddenly raising the boiler temperature (the kind of boiler it is will cause scalding burns too!) I simply pulled on my robe, marched to the kitchen, and turned it down right in front of him.  Next time he was in the shower I pulled the same trick. It never happened again.  This was just one thing in a long line of harassment.  Never Piss Off an Aussie.  We stand our ground and we mean business.

5)  I migrated to the UK with only £1000 pounds to live off.

6)  I lived in a hostel for almost half a year above a club on Brighton’s busiest party street.

7)  I lived in a house without a working shower/bath, a toilet we had to flush with a bucket, and no working central heating in ENGLAND. Rich country, huh? Bullshit on that count, I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve shared a room/flat or lived in abusive situation because of lack of a living wage; a problem that still existed when I was working 50+ hours a week.

Yeah, I’m a tough nut(ter).

Sharp teeth

I’ve borrowed this writing prompt from The poets and the peddlers.

An evil overlord has foresight and, when having a prophecy written about himself, makes sure it says, “No man, woman, or child will defeat him,” covering all his bases.

Then the pesky protagonist brings a dog along.

Sharp teeth.

Aalen never had much use for prophecies. He’d brought Fuzz for the company. These infiltration missions could be lonesome, and a large, fierce Alsatian did make dealing with incompetent guards that much easier. Fuzz had been well-trained. The over-sized pup could drop a grown man in second; quicker if Aalen had slipped a treat into the targets pocket.

They ambled their way to Lord Steel’s command centre, dispatching private infantry like it was a game. Aalen would never forget the look of pure panic that had crossed the man’s face. “You can’t do this!” He shouted, leaping out of his chair only to stumble into his fancy looking computer consoles as Fuzz sat himself down at Steel feet. Fuzz held out a huge paw to skinny man who had begun to quiver. Fuzz whined and begged for a hand shake a second time. Steel stepped back, stumbling over a chair in the process. Fuzz scooted forward and nuzzled the dictator’s hand. The sound of Steel’s courage breaking was palpable. Face a mask fear and despair, the evil overlord turned tail and fled. Aalen leant his rear against a computer console, stroking Fuzz’s ears, while he watched his target trip and fall into his own pool of man-eating sharks.

“No need to freak out. Fuzz was only being friendly.”

All a girls wants.

boatpilxr_-antiquedcheetarI finally got an idea for Friday Fictioneers.  This one also draws from the prompt for Jeremy’s Thursday prompt. Two for the price of one!

Sorry if the dialogue is a little difficult to read. I wanted to make it clear they were trying to be quiet.

All a girl wants.

THUNK-Ssssh-ingle. “EREN!” Eren jolted awake, eyes darting from the burlap sack to Eylene above. “Catch!” She whispered, heaving a second sack. Before Eren knew it he had dropped the sack when it wriggled. THUMP! Eyelene set the boat rocking. “What’s going on?!” Eren whispered. Eren raised a finger to her lips. “An-” Eylene had his mouth covered. “We run!” Eren pulled away.

Why?!” The second sack rolled furiously, sending the glittery contents of the first scattering. Eren hit the deck, vision filled by snarling cheetah. “…Eyelene…” The silly cow had just robbed the West-sea Pirates blind. “Why the cat?

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