Short Story

I took a deep breath and swallowed back down my stomach which seemed to have made its way up to my throat. “Sir, there are lots of reasons why the death of Ms. Williams would not be suicide.” Investigator Christensen slowly stood up from his chair and started circling the room. He looked like a vulture, and I was the prey. “At 9:08 am October 16th 2016, 221B Baker street, a woman is found dead in her bedroom. She is lying on her bed, eyes open, a bullet in her head, and a pistol in her hand. Tell me Sherlock Holmes, is that not suicide?” He slams both of his big hands down on the table making the cups rattle and screams at me, “Is that not suicide? She clearly killed herself, Sherlock, you saw the body, you saw the evidence. And yet you question me.” My head is pounding. I throw the chair i’m sitting in behind me and scream, “MURDER!” Everyone is silent and all eyes land on me. “You’re right investigator Christensen”, I say. Now it is my turn to

“You stupid bitch,” she said as she stood in front of the grave stone crying, her voice cracking, “Why didn’t you listen to me?” Anna felt like her heart had shattered. She should have stopped her, she shouldn’t have let her put that needle in her arm; she was supposed to be watching Melody. She fell to her knees and remembered the funeral.

and saw her mom and sister, in their own bikinis. Smiling, she placed a handful of sun screen on her legs and rubbed it in, she continued up to her chest, neck, and face. Offering her sister, the bottle. Taking off her bikini top, she laid face forward, so her sister could place some lotion on her back, and places where she could not reach.

The beeping of a monitor was getting annoying. With the sterile smell and constant humming of technology, Corvus could have really used some music. His body ached from the fight he had won, ached from the damage that was finally catching up to him. His bones had broken numerous times, something he could easily fix. However, now he was just getting his energy back while the lab coat people ran tests on him. They didn't need his consent for anything given the fact that this hospital was not really considered such, but it was the only place he could really go while staying under the radar of the native population here that would be happy to see a bounty hunter like him floating dead in the ocean. Obviously, this was something he did not want,

Mother kisses the top of Clem's head and calls for Dad to bring her school. He sets his newspaper down and gets up. He walks over to me and kisses me on the forehead and grabs my hand, giving it a firm squeeze. This is an odd gesture to me seeing as affection is not necessarily allowed in our city. Apparently it is a form of self-indulgence, which is frowned upon in Rauhallinen.

constantly picked flies out of my milk pail and had to be careful that one wouldn’t land in my opened mouth. I once killed a fly by smashing it between my lips. I became desensitized to the tingling of their legs dashing up and down my skin. Maybe that’s how I built up an immune system that tolerated germs and made me less susceptible to getting sick. Like how a child would hold out a finger for a butterfly to land on, I would do that same with my hundreds of fly friends. The continuous buzzing sound of the flies throughout the farm almost became therapeutic to me.

“What the hell is he doing here?” John asked when he opened the motel door to see his son with Sam Campbell.

I walk to the garage which is giant , filled with nice cars with pretty colors.  Not me though i hop on my baby a black Ducati  since I was the leader I got choice of what car I wanted or whatever so I got a sexy beast.

Knocking on the door, Deborah ordered, “Mom, it’s me, open this door immediately so we can talk.”Although Virginia didn’t respond to Deborah’s pleas, they heard her humming. “Okay mom, you can sit in there as long as you wish. I’m going home, and I won’t come back anymore. Do you understand me? Don’t call and ask me to bring daddy strawberry ice cream because I won’t do it,” Deborah said, sobbing as she turned and ran down the hallway.

It was Saturday morning and I had just woke up. I received an email from the coach that coaches one of the best teams. I could not believe what I had just seen. On the email it wrote “Dear Victoria, I had watched you play in a few games, and I think you would be a good addition to my team. Would you want to come to practice tonight?” I thought to myself, I am not good enough, so maybe I should not go. But as the day went on, I actually thought that I should go just for the experience.

The group concluded that, at nearly five-past, the gnats would have to go hungry and they filed out of the booth. They slipped past Evan without much more than a cursory word-- whether the presence of two known staff members assuaged him or it was just in his nature to be completely unperturbed by a quintet of off-the-clock individuals stepping confidently past the Employees Only sign was unclear.

Damien awoke to the sound of the wretched voice on his intercom. The like sound of a knife on glass combined with a dying cat seemed like the most accurate representation of him. The voice croaked a few time before speaking.

After battling traffic for forty-five minutes, Arthur arrived at the hospital and checked in at the front desk. The receptionist was pleasant when she informed him it would be a bit of a wait before he could see Tristan, and to take a seat in the waiting area.

“Rufus!” yelled Adán as he swung his scythe at Heqet. The goddess caught the scythe and thrown the vampire across the room as well. He crashed through the dining table in the adjacent room, causing Aaqil to jump out of his skin and paused the ritual.

Struggling to accept the painful reality, she could no longer spend time with her mother. While driving down the street without a destination, driving by the park, she remembered when she was a little girl; her mother pushed her on the swing. “Who murdered her?” Marlene questioned. Stopping at the curb, in the moonlight, she watched the wind moving the swings. Before realizing it, Marlene drove down her mother’s street. Parking in the driveway, she hesitated to get out of the car and listened to the radio. Weeping as the announcer spoke of the murder of Katherine Lincoln, which dominated the news. Turning off the radio, she went up the steps as she had done many times.