The exercise:
Write about: the body.
Took the car in this afternoon to get the brakes checked out. Turns out they need to be replaced, so I should probably spend all of tomorrow picking strawberries to sell at the market to pay for that.
Restaurant harvest went fairly well this morning, though I was once again too rushed to make the delivery to get a picture of our haul. Perhaps things will calm down once I set fire to the strawberries are finished for the season.
Mine:
Detective Anderson approached the crime scene on weary feet, one eye on the approaching storm clouds. The team would have to work quickly if they hoped to find any useful evidence, but they were all running on fumes by that point.
Five dumped bodies in less than two days. Had to be a record of some sort, though no one seemed interested in confirming it.
Anderson stopped a few feet away from the man and woman huddled over the nude corpse, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets to protect them from the chill in the air while he waited for them to complete their photography session. His nostrils caught a hint of cherry bubblegum in the air and he wondered which junior officer was about to get dressed down for that lapse in judgement.
"All yours, Detective," the woman told him as she rose from her crouch and began to pack up her camera equipment. "Hope you haven't had dinner yet."
"No time to eat these days," Anderson said with a ghost of a smile. "Thanks guys."
He waited for them to clear the area before stepping closer. In the distance a crow squabbled with its mate as the detective got his first clear view of the most recent victim's face. A brief flex of his jaw muscles was the only indication of his inner thoughts.
4 comments:
The Body
She walked along the shoreline of a shallow, swampy lake. Reeds were poking up, catching the morning sun.
Something glinted in amongst the rustic greens. It was a wrist watch. What it was attached to was rather gruesome. The body floated face down in the water, which was a good thing. She did not want to see the other side. He was visibly a male, his suit of good quality, despite the mud piling up in the pockets. The watch was a high class brand. There were several bullet wounds to the chest. Whoever killed this man wanted him dead, taking no chances. There was no way anyone could survive six wounds to the heart. She wondered about the hatred that could bring about such a murder; about the history between the victim and the perp if, indeed, there were any. She wondered if this had been a ritual killing but, not knowing much about such things, she shoved the thought aside.
She reluctantly drew her phone out of her pocket. She knew that, once she called the number, she would become involved in the investigation - weeks or months of questioning, statements, court hearings, cross examination, conclusion, appeal - it’d be easier to walk on, but civic duty beckoned.
Plus, she was ever so slightly curious.
She tapped Siri on her iPhone, “911” she said...
Your corpse lays quiet, interned in the ground
Stone cold, alone, and ashy grey
And although your soul didn’t stick around
On your bones, earth’s bugs do prey
She paced the floor tapping the pen against the soft flesh of her pursed lips. Her eyes glanced toward the ceiling and then the floor, but I knew she wasn't seeing either. Occasionally her feet would stop and she would switch directions mid-stride before turning back and finishing her journey to the other side of the room. Strangers might think she was having an odd sort of seizure.
Her hands flung forward, the pen thrust toward the pile of dirty clothes. I looked at her to see if this would end the pacing. She stood still for a few more seconds. "I've got it!" she said. "I know what the body of the paper will be about."
Writebite - and now I am curious as well.
Also: shame on me for thinking your character was going to steal the watch.
Morrigan - nicely done, I particularly enjoyed the first two lines.
Heather - hah, very nice use of misdirection. Great description as well, I got a great picture of her.
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