Unforgivable

Charles slowly pulled the piece of metal from Tom’s stomach. The sight of the bloody fingerprints where his hand had gripped the steel was more than he could handle.

Tom watched as Charles retched in the bushes. He pulled himself along the sidewalk and wrapped his arm around the crumpled man. “Think of me while you rot in prison,” he whispered.

Charles jerked away and turned his back on the man who had been his best friend for over twenty years. He couldn’t believe what Tom had done. Even though he knew his sin was unforgivable, he still couldn’t believe Tom would go that far to get even. 

He had tried to pull the metal away from Tom, but it had done no use. Tom was smarter. He had used Charles’s on strength against him, thrusting the cold steel deeply into his own stomach.

The gurgling sound of Tom’s last breaths brought Charles around. He moved to his friend’s side and held his hand. “I’m sorry, Tom. So sorry.”

Although there was no rational way he could know what Tom meant, Charles believed the slight squeeze of his hand meant he was sorry, too. Not that the mutual apologizes were going to do either one of them any good. 

 

And Claire. 

It had been bad enough when Tom had caught Charles and Claire in bed together. The pain and humiliation on her face had almost broken Charles’s heart. He didn’t know if she would be able to handle the shame that would be heaped upon her shoulders when everyone found out the reason for Tom’s death. And he wouldn’t be there to help her through it.

As the flashing blue lights of the first police car reached him, Charles thought the person who was going to be hurt the most was the woman both men had loved, and he wondered if maybe that hadn’t been Tom’s intent. His friend had always had a vindictive streak.

Dracula's End

It was a dark and stormy night when Dracula met his end. 

I’m still sketchy on the details, but I do remember leaving the bar and walking along the waterfront. Well, I say walking, but it was probably more like stumbling if my knees are any indication. I had been to my brother’s bachelor party, and unfortunately, for me and Dracula, when I party I really party.

I have no recollection of the actual event, but people say Dracula swooped in and bit me when I tripped over a lose board. They watched him do his business and then leave me in a heap. What everyone found most shocking was that when Dracula started to walk away, he was staggering.

Accounts report that he kept trying to take flight, but couldn’t seem to get it together enough to do more than shamble along. Everyone watched, astonished, when he drew close to the end of the pier. With only a few feet left, he started running. People assume he was getting a head start to rise and fly off into the night, but things didn’t quite go as planned. Instead, Dracula jumped and promptly fell.

Unbeknownst to him, a portion of the pier had been damaged in a recent storm. A few posts were broken in half, leaving jagged spikes in their place. 

Dracula fell on one such spike. 

The newspapers are all abuzz with the demise of our most feared resident. I read them and I laugh. I know it won’t be long until they find my first victim.

Going Under

The thwack of the oar knocked James into the water. The last thing he saw before going under was Stewart, standing in the boat, smiling. James struggled to stay awake as water seeped into his nose. He couldn't help thinking back to when his father was teaching him to swim. He'd sucked in more water than a sponge before he finally got the hang of it. 

Unfortunately, his father wasn't around right then to pull him up, and his body felt more like a rock than a sponge. He shook his head the best he could to clear it and tried to push toward the surface. Funny, he thought, I never knew you could cough under water.

Mistaken Idenity

Our exercise for the week was this:

RHETORICAL QUESTIONS. Write a fragment of a story using mostly rhetorical questions. You can write a plain, vanilla sentence that is not a rhetorical question every five sentences, though you don't have to be strict about this. You could do it every six sentences sometimes. 500 words.

How do y'all think I did?

“What did you think you were doing? Did you think at all? How could you be so stupid? How can you call yourself my son? How can you even show your face at the dinner table?”

Patrick hung his head in shame. 

“How did you botch the job so badly? Why was such a simple task so hard for you? Why can’t just follow orders? Why do you have to go off on your own, thinking your way is better? Why?”

Patrick had no answer that would satisfy his father.

“You have no idea? Do you ever think? Or do you just go off half-cocked all the time? Do you know what the worst part is? What really pisses me off?”

When Patrick didn’t answer, his father yelled, “Your sister saw you!”

“How come you stayed around the house so long? Why didn’t you leave as soon as I told you what to do? How many times have I told you to make sure your sister doesn’t follow you? How could you miss a girl with bright orange hair? How could you be so stupid?”

Patrick didn’t bother to tell his father he’d already asked the last question.

“Why are you sitting there with that stupid look on your face? Don’t you have anything to say for yourself? Are you hearing me? What’s wrong with you?”

“I’m sorry, Pop,” Patrick started, “I didn’t see Patsy, I swear.”

“You didn’t see her? She’s six feet tall and you missed her? How can you not see a woman the size of a small truck? You didn’t see her? Well I guess that makes it all ok, right? 

Patrick wasn’t sure if his father wanted him to answer or not. 

“Well? Aren’t you going to answer me? If you can’t tell me how you missed your sister following you, can you tell me how you offed the wrong guy? How the hell did you mistake Joey Snub Nose for the guy you killed? Did you even look at him? His nose was a foot long!”

“How am I going to explain this to your mother? How do I tell her you not only didn’t get rid of Joey Snub Nose, but you killed a lawyer by mistake? Do you know the shit that’s going to come raining down on the family? How am I supposed to fix this? What am I supposed?”

“I’ll fix it, Pop,” Patrick promised.

“You’ll fix it? And just how will you do that? Can you bring back the dead now? Give that man’s wife back her husband? His children back their father?”

“I didn’t think so,” he said when Patrick failed to reply.

“There really isn’t a way to fix it is there? You can’t unring a bell can you, Patrick? Do you know what you can do? How you can make this up to me? Do you want me to tell you?

When Patrick shook his head, his father said, “You can tell your mother about it.”