Friday Fiction: 100 Word Challenge

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by Smitty

Sirens now, after the gunshot. Scream captured, Munch-meets-Pollock style, on the wall.
Theirs had been a long relationship, full of pain, suffering, and degradation. They’d retained a twisted regard through all of the abuse. She certainly didn’t hate him, for all her wrist was still numb from the final recoil.
The lurid details would play out in court and the press. In the end, she’d stand exonerated. A book deal for certain; reality TV show? That would have to wait for the legal beagles to finish their barking.
Whipping up a Dominatrix-Assisted Suicide market sure was work.

via Darleen

8 comments

  3. Who knew an evening at the drive-in with her husband would start the train wreck of Jean’s marriage?

    It was 1958, and Bobby had come a long way from his and Jean’s hardscrabble childhoods in West Virginia. They had a house, a new car and his good salary at the steel plant — until he saw Beulah at the snack bar. What was she doing in Richmond? When he last saw her in West Virginia, it was six months after their last date and his brand-new marriage to Jean. There was no mistaking the glint in her eyes when they settled on him.

  5. I willed myself not to groan as I looked through her legs from behind. After she shot me with that damn cannon, she turned and stood over my feet listening to the wailing sirens approaching the building where the bitch insisted we meet.

    Those sirens sure weren’t going to wake anyone up in this desolate industrial area.

    I knew this broad would doublecross me. It was just in her nature, just like it was in my nature not to trust anyone.

    Thank the good Lord for bulletproof vests and her being distracted by my talking about the blood red Moon.

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