Detective Almeida felt a tinge of guilt as he closed his study door to the sounds of new presents and a Christmas movie. Settling into his chair, he unlocked the top right drawer of his desk and pulled out the postcard he received two days ago. He stared at the black and white image of a carousal and wondered for the umpteenth time, was it from the Joyride Killer himself ?
Patrick leaned over the long table crowded with books, meticulously scanning each one. He took his time, even though the pop up sale would be closing soon, and just being caught browsing held considerable risk. Opportunities like this did not come up often, and he did not want to miss a chance to add to his collection. **************** Three Line Tale for Sonya’s weekly challenge. Photo credit Clem Onojeghuo via Unsplash.
Luella hovers for a moment before landing, every feeler on her body at high alert. The nourishment she needs is within her reach, but she hesitates. Her senses tell her danger is lurking nearby.
It was a worst case scenario, setting sail as winter barreled towards the island. The braying of the gulls felt like an ominous warning. Unfortunately, the waves of undead sailors crawling onto the beach from the heavy cruiser half sunk off shore left me no other choice. ******** photo by Lalo via Unsplash Thanks to Sonya, who provides a weekly Three Line Tales prompt at her blog Only 100 Words.
Amy shifted and straightened her posture against the cold metal folding chair she had positioned on the dock. She didn’t want to risk her newfound responsibility by falling asleep during the last 20 minutes of her shift. She focused back on the smooth surface of the lake, looking for the telltale ripples formed by tentacles.
Mark weaved through cars in the parking lot of the haunted house, almost colliding with a scantily clad woman glowing with neon face paint. “Do you work here?” he asked, grinning salaciously. She almost smiled back as she raised her dripping cleaver. ********** Thank you Sonya at Only100Words for continuing this prompt! Photo credit: Joey Nicotra via Unsplash
Lacey looked up after gathering loose dollar bills and her top from the stage and froze. Sid was silhouetted in the doorframe, the club’s black lights revealing a dark splatter on his white button down shirt, and making the teeth revealed by his gaping smile glow. The last time she gave him a lap dance he told her he handled hostile takeovers, and she was starting to question what that really meant.
Andrew looked around the bright room expecting to see someone else, but he was alone. A rustle behind him made him jump and spin around. “So, you’d like to make a deal,” hissed the snake coiled on the low table in the middle of the room. ********** Three Line Tales Week 139 Writing prompt by Sonya at Only 100 Words Photo by Jordan Gellie via Unsplash
He never actually turned the television on. When he stared at it every night, he always looked for the same thing. A glimpse of the family so cruelly taken from him reflected back from the glass screen.
Months after the hurricane, Robert’s house was the only one that remained empty in his neighborhood. Truthfully, he had been hoping it would have been completely destroyed by floodwater, disposing of his business partner’s body. Now he was just going to have to hope that Andrew’s body was so decomposed authorities would simply assume it was his, allowing him to escape to Mexico as planned. *********** photo by Nathan Wright via Unsplash Week One Hundred and Thirty-Seven of Three Line Tales, hosted by Sonya at Only 100 Words.