Serial Killers

All posts tagged Serial Killers

16 November 2012

Published November 14, 2012 by rochellewisoff

Every Friday authors from around the world gather here to share their 100-words based on the photo prompt and offer constructive crit and encouragement to each other. This creates a wonderful opportunity for free reading of very fresh fiction! Readers are encouraged to comment as well.

Writers:

  • Depending on your preference, leave your blog link  in the comment section or use the linkz tool (or both ;)). My story follows for those who’d rather not read it before writing their own.
  • Please make sure your link works. There were a couple last week that didn’t. If you find that you’ve made an error you can delete by clicking the little red ‘x’ that should appear under your icon. Then re-enter your URL. 
  • If your blog requires multiple steps for visitors to leave comments, see if you can simplify it. If you can disable CAPTCHA –that wavy line of unreadable letters and numbers– please for the sake of our writerly nerves, disable it. It’s frustrating to have to leave a DNA sample, your blood type and your shoe size  just to make a comment. (So I exaggerate. But hopefully you get the picture).
  • Challenge yourself to keep stories to 100 words. (There’s no penalty for going over or under).
    *********
    HAPPY NOVEMBER BIRTHDAYS TO FICTIONEERS:
    Lora Mitchell – 13
    Charles Williams – 14
    Madison Woods – 15
    Russell Gayer – 16
    (If I missed you let me know. ;))
    *************
    THIS WEEK’S PHOTO PROMPT
Copyright-Sean Fallon




get the InLinkz code

***********

 Thanks to Sean Fallon for his intriguing photo. This particular song served as an inspiration and springboard to:

A WELL-ORDERED LIFE

            Prototypical milquetoast, Benjamin Parker wore bow ties and kept to himself. 

            Three days of no-call, no-show to work passed before anyone missed him enough to call 911.

            When we broke into his immaculate apartment we found his pajama-clad body in bed. No sign of foul play.

            Jars filled with things like batteries, safety pins, wine corks and matchbooks lined cabinets and counter-tops.

            “Quite the collector. Wonder if he jarred his tighty whities.” I flung open the closet door and choked. “What the—?”

            In single file on the top shelf human heads floated in name-tagged gallon jars.

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