Weekly Writing Challenge 03/03/2021


I suspected I knew where the story was headed when I first started. In that lonely elevator, but at the time I did not have a firm handle on my character. Now I do. When I do the rewrite, I’ll cast Nick as the overly possessive, extremely jealous type who happens to be rich. An untouchable character who believes the legal system is powerless against him. Who discovers in the end that some legal systems exist beyond the mortal plane.

Next week we’ll start a new story. I’ll share the roll of the dice at that time. Anyone who wants to participate is welcome, I’d be delighted to see what you come up with. Without further adieu I give you, the conclusion of,

Third Times a Charm

After being cuffed and stuffed into the back seat of a patrol car Nick was taken downtown and left alone in one of the interrogation rooms. He called his lawyer from the patrol room and was waiting for his arrival. No one had told him what was going on and his thoughts were a whirlwind of questions spinning endlessly around one another.

The wall opposite from where he sat was a mirror that he knew from past experience hid several detectives who could watch his every move while they remained undetected. Inside he was seething at the injustice he felt at what was going on yet outwardly he remained silent, his hand folded before him, his unwavering gaze fixed on the mirror. He knew it wasn’t doing him much good to act as he was, but what else was there for him to do?

Detective Martin stepped through the door, closing it behind him before he crossed to the only other seat directly across from Nick.

“Would you mind telling me why I’m here?”

Detective Martin settled into his seat without a word, opened a manila folder, and slid several photos across the table to him.

Nick was shocked by what the photos contained. Denise lay face down on the kitchen floor, a pool of blood around her body, the handle of his butcher’s knife protruding from the center of her back.

“I didn’t do that,” Nick said.

Detective Martin slammed the table with his open hand. “Bullshit. Your fingerprints are on handle of the knife. You were seen rushing from the apartment shortly before she was found by your neighbor. I have numerous witnesses who place you at the scene of the crime when it occurred.”

“But it wasn’t me.”

“Then who was it?”

Nick almost said his dead wife’s name but stopped at the last moment. “I don’t know,” he answered instead.

Detective Martin scowled at the knock at the door. “Come in.”

“His lawyer’s here.” Someone at the door said as Nick’s lawyer stepped into the room.

“Don’t say another word Mr. Morton, we’ll take care of this. Were you questioning my client without me being present?” Nick’s lawyer turned on Detective Martin.

“We were just chatting, passing the time until you arrived.”

“I see,” Nick’s lawyer glanced at the photos on the table, “I do hope you read him his rights.”

“Crossing my t’s and dotting my I’s is all part of the job.”

“Come along, Mr. Morton, let’s get you out of here.”

“Now wait one minute, your client is the prime suspect in a woman’s murder.”

“And I’ve already spoken to Judge Timmons who had released Mr. Morton to my custody, now if there’s nothing else?” Nick’s Lawyer motioned to the handcuffs holding Nick.

Detective Martin shook his head as he released the handcuffs binding Nick to the table. “Don’t leave town.”

“Or course not detective, now if you’ll excuse us,” Nick’s lawyer led him from the room.

His lawyer had agreed to wait in his car while Nick ran up to retrieve a few things. The officer on duty had been informed of his arrival and was waiting for him. In the elevator car Nick watched the screen indicating the floor when he realized it had gotten so cold he could see his breath. He was rubbing his hands together when he became aware of a presence behind him. A chilled hand rested on his shoulder as an icy breath enveloped his ear.

“Third times a charm,” Mona whispered behind him as a cold blade slid between his third and forth rib and his earthly worries came to an end.

Weekly Writing Challenge 02/24/2021


Managed another 620 words even though I was tired after a day shift at the hardware store where I work. But it’s what you gotta do when you’re a writer. You have to develop the habit of consistency, and the only way to do that is to write every day whether you want to or not. I’m far from perfect when it comes to that, and I’ve let distractions take me from my work, watching TV or playing games when I should be writing. It is what it is though, and for me the writing itself is the best reward. To see the story come together in the readers mind and know I’ve touched their life no matter how brief is what drives me.

I’m anxious to get to the end of this one so I can start the rewrite, and add the emotional elements to the skeletal structure of the story. So without further adieu I give you the next installment of

Third Times a Charm

“I’m fine, I’ll be right back.” He wasn’t sure what was going on, how could Mona be here? He killed her. He saw her die with his own eyes. Was someone playing games with him. Was it her brother?  Her Sister? They had never liked him, believing Mona was too good for the likes of him. That’s what it was, wasn’t it? Her siblings were playing mind games with him. He’d show them. He waited for the elevator, watching the light above the door as it counted down to his floor. The doors opened with a ding and he stabbed the button for the lobby with his thumb. He’d show them.

Reaching the lobby he raced out the front doors and stopped. The flow of pedestrians had dwindled to a trickle and he stood on the sidewalk, looking first one way, then the other. A siren wailed, its warbling voice getting closer with every passing moment and he ignored it. Focused on trying to find the person or person responsible for this little game. From his right came a familiar sigh and he swiveled his head in that direction, catching sight of Mona as she slipped into the alley.

He followed, one hand on the butt of his pistol as he raced down the garbage strewn street. A couple of vagrants were arguing over the contents of a garbage pail. He paid no attention to them as he walked by, his gaze scanning every possible hiding place for his target. He imagined they were watching him while he searched. Probably laughing at his futile attempt to find them. Reaching the end of the alley he was forced to admit defeat and turned back to return to his apartment.

Coming around the front of the building he saw a police cruiser and an ambulance parked at the curb with their emergency lights flashing, a small crowd gathered around them. It was a common enough sight for this area so he didn’t pay much attention to what was happening as he entered the building. When the elevator doors slid open he knew he was in trouble. The hallway was filled with the other resident that lived on his floor, all eyes fixed on the police officer at Nicks door, whispered questions followed him to his apartment.

The policeman held up his hand as he approached. “You can’t come in here, sir.”

“It’s my apartment, what’s going on?”

The police turned to Nick’s open door. “Detective, the occupant of the apartment is here.”

“On my way,” a young Latino dressed in a suit said. Nick recognized him as the detective that originally questioned him when he shot Mona, but he couldn’t recall the detective’s name.

“Nick Falon,” the detective said, extending his hand, “strange we should cross paths like this again.”

“How’s that, Detective, I’m sorry I seem to have forgotten your name.”

“It’s detective Martin, do you know a Miss Denise VanMeter?”

“She’s my neighbor from across the hall, why? Is she okay, Denise? Is everything all right?” He tried to see what was happening in his apartment but there were two other people standing at the doorway to the kitchen, blocking his view. What is happening?”

“That’s what I was going to ask you. Did you invite Miss VanMeter to your apartment?”

“Of course I did we were going to have dinner, I had to run an errand.”

“I’m going to need you to come down to the station.”

“I can’t, not until you tell me what’s going on.”

“We’ll talk about it down at the station.”

“I’m not going, not until you tell me what’s happening.”

“You don’t have a choice,” Detective Martin said, nodding at the patrolman behind Nick.

To be continued!

I know it’s too early to say, but what do you think?