The Last Request

Photo Credits: Geetika Gupta 

    

    Would his heart race, then jolt to a stop?

       Would death be excruciatingly painful?  

      Terrifying thoughts plagued him ever since the conviction.  It didn’t matter that he hadn’t killed her, couldn’t kill her. 

No one believed him.   

      Failed appeals, endless testimonies, and the meager evidence: in the end, no one had been convinced.  As far as the world was concerned, he had brutally murdered her.  The mighty hand of justice had failed him. 

      Fast forward to his last request:

watching the sunset while sipping a final glass of wine, resigned, eager for the peace and freedom only death could provide.

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Guilty

      Sweat beaded up on my brow. My heart raced. She couldn’t have seen.    She was only five years old.  I had nothing to worry about! Her testimony would convict me. I did kill him.  He deserved it. Surely they wouldn’t believe her!  

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The Shipment

      Until the day I die, I’ll never forget those glassy, unblinking eyes.  She needed to die, plain and simple.  She had known entirely too much and was getting a little too free with sharing the knowledge.  I couldn’t afford to have her blabbing my business.  It would cost me everything.   Not only that, a lot bigger heads would roll if I were ever caught.  It would be a classic domino effect, and they would make sure I paid dearly with my life if that ever happened.   I should have never got involved with her in the first place.  Looking back now, I know I simply couldn’t resist.   She was hot…and a piece of work.  She had needed the job, so I had hired her as a receptionist at the art gallery thinking at the time she wasn’t too bright.  Little did I know that the beautiful bombshell actually did have a brain to go with those sapphire eyes, long sexy legs, and amazing rack.

       All of a sudden she starting putting 2 and 2 together, and lo and behold, it didn’t always add up to 4.  We were exporting art overseas packed with cartons lined with bags of the best cocaine money could buy.  The shipments were worth millions.  We packed it all in the best smelling coffee grounds to throw the scent off so the drug hounds at customs wouldn’t get wise to the operation.  All was going like clockwork until I decided to give in to lust and sleep with the bimbo.  That is when everything started going south.  I fancied myself falling for her.  I found her intoxicating and my tongue loosened up when she was around.  Once she figured out that my business didn’t only involve art, she got scared.  A scared woman with too much explosive knowledge can be dangerous.  I had no intention of going to prison for a loose tongued piece of ass no matter how good it was.

       So I killed her.  We had been intimate, so I figured it was up to me to get rid of her.  A friend of the boss owns the crematory in town and they wasted no time cremating her remains and helping me clean up the mess.  I personally packed what was left of Bridget in a crate holding Albrecht Durer’s painting of Oswalt Krel among this week’s shipment of coffee grounds and drugs.  My associates overseas would see to it that her ashes were disposed of.  No one would ever have to know.   As a stroke of luck, Bridget seemed alone in the world so no one should come asking questions.  If they do, I know nothing.   Surprisingly, I have never killed anyone before and never hope to again.  It left a bad taste in my mouth.  However, if they get in the way of business like the fair Bridget did I will be left with no choice.  After all, business is business.

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The Walk Home

       Since the ruling had passed there was no more busing to her neighborhood in an attempt to cut costs.  It was a crock but she had no other choice but to walk to school.  Anyone who lived within 3 miles of the school had to now because the district simply couldn’t afford to run the buses for everyone.  She didn’t mind the walk really.  The exercise did her good.  Now that winter was fast approaching, the mornings were decidedly darker and by the time she reached home it was almost dark once again.  She did mind the dark.  It made her uneasy. 

        Now that she was forced to walk to and from school she wished she hadn’t joined the band and chosen to play the tuba.  Seriously, what had she been thinking?  The damn thing grew heavier with every step she took.  She was required to take it home to practice each day and cart it back day in and day out.  What with her backpack, her purse, and the damn tuba she was loaded down.  By the time she reached home she was exhausted from the trek.  Today was no different.  She approached the woods that provided her a shortcut home.  By all rights, she should stay on the sidewalk.    By that point in her journey she was tired and ready to be home, so with misgivings she took the shortcut anyway.

       Once surrounded by trees on all sides, the night closed in slowly around her.   She picked up speed, feeling a sense of foreboding the farther she walked.  The breeze rustled through the branches above.  A twig cracked behind her.  She turned quickly, but saw nothing.  Her heart beat double time as she walked a bit faster.  Another twig cracked.  The leaves rustled.  With her heart in her throat she looked back again.    In a split second her eyes focused on a shadow of a dark form lurking from behind the trees.  She saw a flash of metal…a knife.  The shadow smiled an evil white grin and started moving towards her.  With her heart in her throat, she ran.  He laughed and quickly pursued her, closing the gap between them.  He grabbed her arm and she screamed.  He pulled her towards him as she swung the tuba case at him.  The heavy case hit his chest, leaving him gasping.  She hurried away leaving the tuba behind.

       “You bitch! I’ll make you pay for that!” he promised as he chased her.  She tripped over a tree root and fell to the ground.  As she scrambled to gain her footing, he was upon her, slapping her hard across the face.  He grabbed her, laughing as he did.  “I have you now and you will be mine.”  He forced her to the ground, pulled duct tape from his pocket and bound her arms above her head.  She struggled and screamed for help.  He taped her mouth and produced a knife from his pocket.  Her eyes widened in horror as she watched him cut her and blood gush from the gash. “Ready to have a bit of fun?” he asked with a wicked grin.  Tears escaped her eyes as he raped her mutilating her body for his pleasure.

     “Oh dear God, help me escape!”  Her mind screamed.   The clouds shifted, casting an ominous shadow on the ground.  She realized then he was standing over her, finished and quite satisfied with himself.  “Thank you, too bad you didn’t seem to enjoy it as much as I did.” He mocked.  He walked away, as if he hadn’t a care in the world whistling a tune as he went.   Wearily, she closed her eyes, shutting him out, and welcomed the light that enveloped her.  She walked toward it with determination, away from the fear and pain that had consumed her only seconds before into the paradise that awaited her for eternity.

This is my response to the Speakeasy weekly prompt #161, which is to write a piece in 750 words or less (mine is 646).

 (1) using “The clouds shifted, casting an ominous shadow on the ground.” anywhere in the piece, 

 (2) making some kind of reference to the music prompt, which is Adele’s "Rolling in the Deep".  As an added challenge, we were challenged to write a story that was “family-free”, which means no mention of family relationships in the story.

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Deciphering the Puzzle

       

      The coroner had already taken Amy’s body away.  Surely her next of kin had been notified by now and summoned to identify the body at the morgue.    Hours later the detectives were still at the scene gathering evidence.  In her bedroom they found a bouquet of roses with a card signed only “We will be together someday my love.” On the mussed bed were many used tissues. Either the deceased had a cold or someone had upset her enough to unleash a flood of tears.   Perhaps dear Amy was a player in a love triangle and one of the corners had collapsed.  Murder scenes were always a puzzle.  If only they could understand her life, her daily movements, and question those she was close too perhaps they could put the pieces together and bring her killer to justice.  Whatever had happened to Amy, she had met an unexpected end.  Perhaps she had gambled, took a chance of not being discovered, and lost.  Phillip loved the details. He had always He loved taking the facts and clues and piecing them together to discover the whys.  Sure his job could be a bit grisly at times, but that was the nature of it.  It was exciting, and sad.  Sad that a life could be cut short so violently to a person who should have grown old and died in bed with her loved ones gathered near instead of like this.

      She deserved to have someone bring her killer to justice and to avenge for the loss of her life and the dreams she harbored.  That is why he took on this job in the first place. He loved putting pieces together.  He had loved puzzles as a kid.  His apartment was filled with framed puzzles he had conquered over the years.  True, solving those puzzles did little more than decorate his apartment but the puzzles he dealt with and solved on a day to day basis caught killers and got them off the street.  It stopped them from killing again.  It brought justice.  It made him feel like a hero.  Life is like a jigsaw puzzle, you have to see the whole picture then put it together piece by piece.  Inevitably fate takes its course but it is always a small comfort to those left behind to have answers to all the whys.  That is why he dealt with the blood and the gore day after day…in the hopes that once the puzzle of evidence is collected and assembled that the whole picture could be understood and justice could rule the day.  

     This story was written for the Write Tribe Wednesday prompt.  
     This week's prompt was the quote:

"Life is like a jigsaw puzzle, you have to see the whole picture then put it together piece by piece." 

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Little Did She Know

      Kara walked daily often talking to him on her cell as she wandered the deserted park’s path.  How dare she talk to him when he loved her so! 

      She ended the call, stopping to gaze at the river.   He added the silencer to the gun.  If he couldn’t have her, no one else would either.

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The Secret's in the Sauce

Written in response to this week’s Trifecta Writing Challenge.

Here's how it works: Submit a writing between 33 and 333 words using this week’s one-word prompt:

CRAFT (noun) skill in deceiving to gain an end <used craft and guile to close the deal>

My fictional story is 114 words.

     Sarah loved to cook and was an accomplished chef.  Her husband seemed to love her cooking almost as much as he enjoyed beating her. Anymore her cooking was the only thing she did he didn't criticize.

  

    Last night she had spent 6 hours in the emergency room after he taught her another painful lesson.  The official record stated it was just another fall down the stairs.  She had lived in this nightmare for over a year and enough was enough.

       He would kill her if she didn’t escape soon.   She smiled as she stirred the poison into the sauce.  He would eat his fill savoring each bite.  Tonight her craft would set her free. 

Found

This piece was written for the 55 Fiction writing prompt at Write Tribe.  Today a mystery.

     Today she chose a different path which led her deeper into the woods than she had ever traveled before.  She quickened her pace suddenly nervous, unsure of her destination.  Suddenly Anna tripped and went sprawling over a partially concealed arm.  She screamed when she saw the decomposed body.  Her friend Heather had finally been found!