Happy Easter to those who celebrate! I hope you had a great weekend!
I spent the entire weekend buried in edits on Night Walker. It’s been a crazy week, but I think I’m very close to having an agent who thinks she can sell Night Walker! Woot! I had to rework the beginning which ended up changing other things along the way, but I’m almost finished… Shew!
Huge thanks to Ken for proofreading for me all weekend! *HUGS*
So with all the revising, I barely had time to think, let alone write something new, so I opted for a Flash Fiction piece this week… Murder in 250 words or less!
After a lot of tweaking and cutting, this one came in at exactly 250 words…
Hope you enjoy!
Til Death Do We Part – By Lisa Kessler
Evie scrubbed harder at the stain on the linoleum tile floor. Leroy thought about the Pythagorean theorem more than he thought about her, and that was saying something since he hated math. If their house was on fire, he’d save the boombox before her.
Accidentally marrying a troll was a horrible mistake, and for trolls divorce didn’t exist. It was "until death do you part", and trolls lived a long time.
His boombox pulsed through the walls, making her miniature glass unicorns vibrate on the kitchen shelves.
"Damn him," she grumbled. "Turn down the music, Leroy!"
The decibel level didn’t drop a single hair. Grabbing the phone, Evie hit number five on the speed dial for the Police. She knew her rights. She’d already had him arrested once for playing dominoes on Sunday. It was a lesser known law in Alabama, but it was still on the books, so the police had to haul him in.
While she waited on hold, her husband came flying around the corner. "Who do you think you’re callin’, Witch?"
Before she replied, his foot hit the soapy stain she was working on, and down he went like a sack of sand. His head made a hollow crunching sound as it hit the floor.
"Leroy?" She stretched as far as the phone cord allowed. A puddle of blood seeped out in a halo around his head. She nudged him with her toe and jumped back. He didn’t move. In fact, he didn’t breathe.