There was a writing prompt from Writer’s Digest titled: Killing Your Best Friend’s Wife. You had to write about how the character confronted the victim and how the murder played out. Here's my third shot at it:
Killing Your Best Friend’s Wife
Harry’s not the kind of close friend one lets down. His idea of a good time was playing chess with the boss’s daughter, frosting in mind. Yet, his wife, Patty, was innocent as a fawn chewing green pasture in the middle of hunting season. Harry couldn’t afford to have her anymore. He had gotten too big. Too corporate. Too stained. And nosy wives were an obstacle.
Harry wanted Victor’s help in killing her.
To Harry’s expectation, Victor agreed without hesitation- not because he disliked his wife, but because she’s the only person who knew Victor’s deepest and darkest secret that could ruin his life forever. The truth of him committing credit card fraud was nothing compared to that. Luckily, she never found out about the hijacked cars, the business computer hack, or cleaning up after Harry. Nothing like that particular secret: participating in her best friend’s suicide attempt.
Harry got all of the materials ready for the big day. He had it all figured out, too. Victor was to pick Patty up from the airport since she traveled to visit her mother out of state. Then, Victor was to deliver a demise to which she would not return.
When the big day arrived, Victor did not hurry to his destination. He first had to imagine Patty dead and remove any small grain of pity from his heart. He envisioned his fingers around her swan neck while he puffed a smoke.
“Hi, Victor.” Patty put her bags down and gave Victor a quick hug. Little did she know it would be the last attempt to save herself.
“Hi, Patty.” Victor reached down for the bags and placed them in the trunk. “Sorry, your husband couldn’t make it.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m sure he's far too busy at the office.” She brushed some loose hair from her face. “But I’m glad someone took the time to come.”
On the freeway, Victor pictured Patty’s bulging eyes and pale cheeks as his fingers squeezed...
“You know, Vic, you don’t have to just drive on account of Harry. He might be a little bossy, busy, and ungrateful for all you do, but I’m not. I can see how much you have helped him.”
Throughout the trip, Patty did most of the talking. Even when Victor took the wrong exit, she talked, probably due to nervousness. Her hands shook on her lap when she wasn't using them. And when Victor pulled into a deserted gas station, locked her side of the door, and placed his leather gloves on, she stuttered.
“What are you doing, Vic?”
Tears streamed down Patty’s eyes as she clutched her mother’s necklace.
Victor placed some drops on a handkerchief. “Don’t take this the wrong way…” and he smothered her mouth with it.
Patty struggled to break free, but Victor was too strong for her petite body.
“There,” Victor licked her cheek.
She shrieked, and Victor pressed again, snapping her neck, keeping her motionless.
Victor caressed her face and smoothed out her fine brown hair.
“Won’t Harry be proud?”
The following writing prompt was handed down to me during a workshop.
I went ahead and extended it to include ‘hesitation’ and a title.
Use it to form some specific details about this character.
Could be a short paragraph, story, or the beginning of a novel.
=) Good luck!
A Pointless Game of Fetch
A young woman has been waiting by the phone for a while. She hesitates in picking it up. Is she calling someone important? She dials, and the answering machine picks up. She leaves a voice message. What is that message?
I like writing workshops where the presenter discusses a strategy and gives ideas on writing. I especially like it when they provide plenty of time to write on the spot, and then writers get to share their first drafts.
I had written my first draft of "Killer Letter" on Writer’s Digest and then, revised it for the Nightmares Anthology in October. As you look for my poem, you’ll see a great collection of poems from various authors whose creativity on the subject made Halloween worthwhile.
So, now that the festivities are over, you may find some time to browse them here.
It's hard to get your money back, especially if you let others borrow it. Here's my attempt at this prompt. Only, don't expect dialogue tags to take up residence here. You might try it as an exercise, too. The voices of the characters is what counts.
Getting Your Money Back
Usually, I wouldn’t be caught dead this early in the morning. If it wasn’t that the rent is due for my new apartment, I wouldn’t be sliding this plastic into the ATM. Hmm, that’s funny. Let me try this again. Maybe the machine is waking up, too, or is frozen. No cash? Just yesterday I took out $40 for the freaking gas. I had $5,000 in the bank! Ugh! Of course, the bank is closed at the moment. There is only one person I know who would be responsible for this. I’ll have to confront her before she leaves for work.
“Open up, you skunk!”
I keep knocking on the door, but no one answers. I know she’s home because the kitchen light is on. You could see it from the living room window. Not to mention her car is parked upfront. My mother warned me against opening a joint account with her.
“Alright, already. Oscar? What are you doing here... so early?”
“I’m coming from the bank. Where’s my money?”
'Don't you lie to me."
"You must be crazy. What would I do with your money?”
“Where is it?”
“Stop! What are you doing to my things? If you don’t go, I’m going to have to call the police!”
“Tell me why you did it?”
“You’re hurting me…”
I turned in the direction of the voice. “Mother?”
“That’s right. Now, let your hands fall off Toni’s arms.”
“But she took my money-”
“I said: ENOUGH!”
I released the grip on her shoulders. A red mark remained.
“You do not need money, son. I received the call last night. I knew you would come here."
"Now, sit on the sofa with me. I will drive you home.”
Then, she shot me.
Here is another poem that was published on May 17, 2022 at Al-Khemia Poetica: Climate Change for Starters.
Photo by Adrian Lang from Pexels
Image by blagoja from Pixabay
I'm thrilled that my poetry was showcased on Fevers of the Mind.
Take a look at this great online journal for: Window in the Dark, Spider’s Mess, This is What Faded Love Looks Like, May 6, 2022
Maria A. Arana, Editor
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