Hey Reader's and Writers! Writing Prompt: “A mythical character tries to make it ‘big’ in the modern world with their abilities.” Go! Ten minutes. Seven dead and no lead. The clues and evidence strewn about the desk and pinned to cork boards taunt me. I'm a Banshee, for God sake. Why can’t I solve this? “Here’s another list, Merry.” “It’s Merrywyn.” I snatch the paper from him. “Aren’t you going to look at it?” I sigh and begrudgingly move my gaze from the list of seven names to glance at the document Sterling handed me. “Shit – another list?” He nods. “Damn it!” I slam it on top of the other lists. “The Captain is getting worried.” “I know.” “He’s starting to question your abilities.” “Thank you, Sterling.” “Let me help you.” “No.” “Please. If someone else dies that means—” “I’m fired,” I say. His eyes soften. “Merrywyn, I want you to stay. So please, for the love of whatever God you believe in, figure this one out.” Sterling leaves, and the door closes behind him with a soft click. I make myself another coffee and begin organizing the materials on my desk. I sip my coffee as I read over the names on the new list. Divided into three columns, each list contained a total of twenty-one names in alphabetical order. One person on each list was murdered twenty-four hours after the station received the list. I knew the location and time within hours of looking at the lists, yet the victim was dead every time we tried to save them. Seven lists, seven dead. So why did they make an eighth? I skim the names. Each person felt normal and undeserving of the fate our murderer has chosen for them. Towards the bottom of the list, my eyes snag on a name. Greg Sterling. Well, shit. ~ Mady
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
Categories
All
In the end, we'll all become stories. ~ Margaret Atwood
|