Wk #3 Volume 2: Chainsaw Ridge- A Short story (Blood, Sex, Gore + More) #kdsuspsense #amwriting #horror

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18+ Reading! Adult Content Alert.

Chainsaw Ridge

Author One Scene One

“Alice!”

The voice is a blend of husky and shrill, like nails on a chalkboard. Alice cringes at the sound of it.

“Alice.” It repeats. “You better answer me, dammit!”

“Yes, daddy.”

The rickety steel framed bed creaks as Alice rolls onto her side. She’s cradled by the dip in the overly used and extremely stained mattress, that she’s been sleeping on for nearly twenty years. The same bed she slept in as a toddler. A waft of her uncleansed flesh floats into the air with her movements. The sour pinch of the smell wins its competition with the week old garbage pile to her side. Alice mozies to the window of her bedroom to let some breeze in, as she listens to her crippled father’s voice. She knows full well what’s coming.

“My babies are starvin’, get yer fat ass out there and feed em’.”

“M’kay, daddy.”

“We’re runnin’ low on chow,” he shouts through the thin wall separating them. “It’s time ya’ go ta’ town and pick up some feed.”

“‘M’kay, daddy.”

Alice answers his barking orders, completely numb to what the request entails.

“Well, get to it! An’ make it snappy. I wanna’ watch ya’ prep the meat before dark.”

“Yes sir.”

Alice’s nose pleads for the fresh earthy scent of the white oak forest that she can see in the distance. That luxury is denied, and only the rotten smell of her father’s pig farm bites into her room. They grunt and pop their jaws searching their large shit filled pens for dinner. Directly below Alice’s window, everything about the hogs gave her nightmares. Especially what they’re fed. She complies with her father’s wishes either way.

At a very young age, Alice was taught exactly how much a pig can consume. Teeth, bone, everything. They don’t even shit it out the evidence, their bodies absorb every last bit. After a while the horrid screams of her father’s victims became nothing but routine, a familiar sound fighting its way through the forced emotionless fog of her brain. The farm is secluded, miles from Chicago where the homeless pickens have always been abundant. She learned to tune out the screams very well… Until his accident…

Alice was there when her daddy crashed, and so was the middle aged man knocked out in the back seat of the pickup. The man happened to be twice her size, so she had to take extreme measures to get the job done. It was the very day her father passed down his legacy, and the first day of his new life bound to the restraints of a wheelchair.

The sounds of that day are what playback consistently in Alice’s head. Her daddy was trapped in the truck, smashed at the waist, and the stranger had been tossed out through the front window. Alice withstood the roll completely unscathed, leaving her to clean up the mess her daddy had started. The squeals of the tires and the crunch of metal and glass were nothing compared to what came after they rolled.

“Do it, Alice.”

His voice was younger then. Still husky, but with less scratch.

“You have to kill him, Alice! Do it! Do it before he wakes up!”

Alice was only thirteen at the time. Her hands shook as she squeezed her body out of the broken glass of the truck’s windshield. In a panic she searched through the chaos of scattered shards as they glistened in the summer sun. Thousands of tiny shining chunks covered everything from the back of the truck that had been tossed out all over the pavement. Alice ran to a shovel, only to be shut down by the voice.

“You’re too small for that! Use your fuckin’ head!”

Alice dropped the shovel, her body froze. She didn’t want to do it, but knew it was up to her. They lived on a very remote place, but they couldn’t risk being seen nonetheless. She also knew that if the stranger woke up, he’d likely get away. Although Alice was very large for her age, and strong, she was still much smaller than the man. A sharp jaggedy chain shimmered in the sun, calling to her. Alice shook her head, afraid of her own thoughts.

“Do it Alice!”

Hesitantly she reached for it, her meaty fingers gripped tightly around the handle of her daddy’s chainsaw. The pit of her stomach screamed out in horror. I can’t do it, she thought, I’m not ready yet. He yelled even louder from inside the smashed truck bed while she stood staring at the stranger. Mute.

“Just fuckin’ do it, Alice!”

“Daddy I…”

“Do it now, before he fuckin’ wakes up!”

Alice swallowed the lump in her throat and pulled the chainsaw’s rope. She was no stranger to the tool having used it on the farm often, yet it still took her shaking arm a few tries. The buzz of the saw cut in and out, struggling its way to life. Rununununun, Runununununun.

“Do it!”

Finally the chainsaw’s roar became steady. Alice made her way to the man, her weapon vibrating both arms as she griped it with every bit of strength she could muster. With ease, the saw chewed through the man’s flesh like butter. Scarlet chunks painted Alice’s face with a splat. She closed her mouth to keep the taste out, and wiped the wet pieces of him from her eyes with the long sleeve of her once floral print dress. Without missing a beat she went back to work. As soon as his head rolled away from his body she held the loud running saw to his middle.

The pieces of him had to be small enough for her to carry by herself. Her daddy’s voice bounded over the destruction of her running metal weapon. Chewed up chunks of intestines spilled onto the pavement, like bloody heaps of broken rope.

“Do it!”

As Alice remembers the sounds of that day, she stares at her daddy’s pigs. It’s a new bunch of animals. Most of the hogs that had eaten her first kill are now dead. Sliced into the bacon that fills the old power sucking freezer in their dank dirty basement.There’s only one of those particular hogs left. Alice recognizes this very pig because she watched the oval black spot on top of its back, as it chewed through the skull of that man’s severed head. Each bite with a crunch. It was a tiny piglet then, now it’s gray and aged.

“Alice!”

His voice again cut through her.

“Yeah, daddy?”

“I said make it fuckin’ snappy!”

Author Two Scene Two

Alice sighed, and cut her eyes at her dad’s voice. He was a mean old bastard, her daddy. Never one to show any compassion to anyone. All he cared about were his fat pigs. She remembered in her childhood, when he was not wheelchair bound, that he’d slept with them on the hay  in the barn, right under her window. As if it were normal for folk to do that. When her mom was alive Alice swore that’s what turned her crazy. An unloving husband more interested in intercourse …. With pigs. She shuddered at the thought, and sight of it. She remembered well the day she walked in on him with his pants around his ankles, humping a pig in the ass she felt disgusted. She ran out the barn screaming and confused, not sure what to make of it all. She reasoned with herself the best thing to do was to tell Mom. She laughed as she sat by the window with her grubby shawl wrapped over her shoulders, rocking in her chair, chain smoking on a cigarette.

“Get used to it baby girl, that’s your father for you.”

Was all her mom said. In a flat unmoved tone. Gathering herself together and shaking off the early memories of her childhood. Alice walked over to the cracked mirror on the wall. She took a deep look at herself. For a woman of twenty three years old she looked nothing like her peers. Compared to all the other women her age Alice was a state. She wore her wavy dark brown hair in two French braids always, her eyebrows were unattended to, they looked more like caterpillars crawling across her face, rather than a set of threaded and plucked neat brows. Her skin was grey with lack of sunshine and vitamin D, she hardly left the house. It also had a slight dirty look to it. She was far from fashionable, even if her father had the money for her to buy the latest trends, the mean tight fisted old bastard  probably would never allow it. She donned a plain gray sundress, no matter the weather come rain or sunshine. Her dirty off white ankle socks completed her look of an unkept woman, clearly poverty stricken. On her feet a pair of worn brown sandals. Alice looked a woman trapped in a timewarp.

“I’m on my way Daddy.” She called over her shoulder as she tore her eyes from her reflection.

“Good, like I said hurry the fuck up, they’re hungry and so am I.”

The sound of his voice penetrating through the walls stuck Alice differently this time, instead of fear she felt annoyance at his demanding, unappreciative ways. She waited on him hand and foot since he became wheelchair bound. How does he thank her? … He did’nt that’s the messed up thing about it. After she pulled him from that truck and saved his life, not to mention kept his ass out of prison by disposing of the stranger’s body, he had not once thanked her.

***

As Alice made her way down the dirt gravel road from her house then took a left. She headed toward the town center. It was winter and the days had become chilly, she felt it as she pulled her worn cardigan tighter around her. The chill bit through her  to the core of her bones. With her bare legs and low ankle socks she had no protection from the chilly air.

Alice looked around her as if seeing her neighborhood for the first time, through a new set of eyes. How had life just slipped away so quickly? The years just rolled into one since her mom passed away. “Natural causes” the Dr. said, Alice found it hard to believe. Her mama was crazy yes, but apart from a slightly disturbed mind she was fit and well. It had crossed her mind that maybe, just maybe her dad had something to do with her death and “natural causes.”

She pushed the thought away as she spotted Bill up ahead.

“Hey Alice, what-chaya doin’?”

“Nothin’”

“Don’t look like nothin’ ta’ me.” Bill said as he ran over to her and stepped in line with her pace.

“I’m headin’ to town.”

“What for? An’ you walkin’ all that way?”

“Yeah, I’m walkin’”

“What for though, what ya need over there?”

“Chow.”

“Oh them damn pigs. You mean ta tell me ya father’s still got ‘em?”

“Yeah Bill, I swear he loves them more than me.”

“That’s too bad.”

“Hmm.” Was all Alice could say. Numb to any emotion regarding her dad.

“What-do- ya say we take a lil’ walk in the woods on the way?”

“Not today Bill, I gotta get going.”

“Oh C’mon, Alice… You love our walks in the woods.”

Bill took Alice’s hand and led her off the dirt road toward the woods. He was hard already at the thought of slamming Alice up against the trees. One thing he liked about Alice was she was an easy goer. She never talked much, not the intelligent type. She spread her legs and that’s all she needed to do, that was good enough for him. She liked to get fucked and had no problem with servicing two even three men in the woods at a time. Often, he wondered what caused her to be so mute and unemotional when it came to sexual relations. She seemed unfazed by it all. Alice stopped in her tracks and pulled her hand from his.

“Bill not today, I really gotta go.”

“It won’t take long, let’s go.”

Alice gave in with a sigh, she saw the twinkle in Bill’s eye as the smiled and walked ahead. She followed behind him into the depths of the woods.

***

Bill wasted no time as he grabbed Alice’s hair and bent her over. He pulled the hem of her dirty dress up, and pulled her panties to one side. Alice held onto the tree for dear life as he slammed into her. Her mind went blank as he thrust in and out of her from behind, grunting and moaning. He slowed himself down to hold back his climax, and slipped out of her. He spun her around and put her back against the tree, he looked down at her with a smirk on his face. Bill was far from handsome. He had dirty blond hair cut short, a wide forehead with a thick nose. She never focused on his looks when they were intimate in the woods. In fact, she never focused on any of the men’s looks she allowed to have their way with her. For her sex allowed her to not think or feel. All though at least someone, anyone paid attention to her during the one on one sessions, or many three or foursomes she had with the town’s men.

“Ya ganna treat me nicely today Alice, maybe suck me off a bit?.”

“Hmm, maybe.”

“Maybe, that’s not what I wanna hear.” Bill retorted as he pulled down Alice’s zipper at the back of her dress and slid it over her shoulders. She was braless, as always. Her full breasts fell out and greeted him. Bill massaged over her breasts roughly as he stared down at her. The air was now so chilly he could see his own breath as he spoke, the sight of Alice’s nipples hardening against to cool air hardened him more. He gave into temptation and lowered his mouth to her right breast, he took her nipple in his mouth and began to enjoy her. Alice tipped her head back and let out a slight moan. Her back arched against the tree as she allowed him to take her into his mouth deeper.

Bill’s hand travelled south, it made it’s way between her legs. He forced her thighs open, and slide his middle finger inside her. He felt her slickness as he finger fucked her into heaven. Alice’s eyes rolled back as she bit her her lip, Bill slid in a second finger and fucked her within an inch of her life up against the tree, as he nibbled and enjoyed her breasts at the same time. Alice panted and breathed heavy but that’s all he’d ever get from her.

For Alice secretly, this time things felt different with Bill. She felt a sense of satisfaction from the way his fingers worked her insides. Usually, her body would react in it’s normal way and she would become moist at his touch, however her internal feelings were always still numb. It was like her body had it’s own mind. Today she felt alive internally.

“Do I make you feel good Alice?”

“Hmm”

“You like that?”

“Hmm.”

Bill laughed at Alice’s response, or lack of it. He up’ed his game a little, he removed his hands from between her thighs, then dropped to his knees. With the hem of her dress pulled up she was on show for him, all of her. Without a second thought he leaned into her and put his mouth between her thighs to taste her slickness.

“Ohhhh.”

Alice lost herself control, for the first time she became verbally expressive.

Bill, got off on the reaction he caused from the usually mute Alice. He buried his head between her legs, and with his mouth set to work. He’d never given Alice head before, he usually saved that for girls that actually meant something. He’d had enough of Alice’s distant mute reactions, she now became a challenge sexually to get her to react to his touch.He pulled back to tease her and looked up at her. Alice smiled down at him, with a very satisfied look on her face.

Alice slid down the tree onto the wet grass. She spread her legs for Bill. For a moment Bill stood in front of her, and stared at her mound inviting him in. Alice, slid her hand between her leg and started to masterbate herself in a vicious way, Bill dropped to his knees. He gladly obliged and continued to service her with his mouth. As he dipped in and out of her with his tongue, and licked slowly and sofly the tip of her clitorious Alice foundled her own breasts. He watched in excitement as she squeezed, pinched and played with herself.

Bill felt like he was going to explode in his pants. He was more eager to explode on her arse.

“Get up, turn around.”

“Hmm.”

“Alice, you heard me get up and turn around c’mon I gotta go soon.”

Alice did as she was told and moved onto all fours. With her arse in the air he entered her from behind and pumped away until he exploded…. On her bare arse.

***

“Alice, Alice I’ve been waitin’ over one Goddamn hour for you. Where ya’ been?

“Nowhere Daddy.”

“Nowhere, don’t fuckin’ lie to me.”

Alice stood frozen at the entrance of the house. The musty smell of the house was drowned out by her fear. It  ran deeply through her had, she really been gone that long? Bill took her by surprise today, she never knew he could do what he did with his mouth, at twenty three years old she had no real girlfriends to learn from, and men never offered to do that before. She heard her dad wheeling his chair into the hallway. He stopped opposite her.

“Where you been?”

“No where Daddy–”

“Well that’s not the right fuckin’ answer is it? I sent you to town for the Goddamn chow and some food, ya come back here and tell me ya been nowhere? After ya been gone a fuckin’ hour?”

“I got it Daddy I got it, well I got the food but forgot the chow I’ll go back.”

Alice’s dad slowly wheeled his chair closer to her, his face twisted into a mean scowl. He he picked up a wooden stick that was within reach as he rolled forward. Pointing in Alice’s direction he began to curse her.

“You… you little bitch, ya forgot ma’ damn chow.”

“Daddy please no, don’t, not the stick, it hurts.”

“Hurts? Hurts? I’ll show you what fuckin’ hurts means.”

“Aww Daddy no, no please.”

“What… what is that? What the fuck is that smell? Alice ya smell even more disgustin’ than usual. Have you been in the woods again. Fuckin’ boys again?”

“No Daddy.”

“No Daddy.”  

He mocked in a whining voice.

“Slut!”

Alice felt the full throttle of her dad’s anger as he beat her with the wooden stick that came loose from the stair banister. It had sat in the corner of the hallway for months.

“Daddy no, please.”

A flashback of all the times Alice had walked the two miles to town in rain, snow, and anything inbetween came flooding back to her. Her anger built over the way her dad treated her mother, causing her to lose her mind.

“You, you you pervert fuckin’ pigs in the barn, you deserve to be in a wheelchair. After all I’ve done for you this is how you thank me.”

“Alice you better watch… your… mouth.” Tom responded as he beat her three times to punctuate his words.

“Fuck you! You freak.”

Before Alice could even live to regret her actions her dad was overturned on the hard dirty wood floor of the hallway. She yanked the stick from his hand with such a force his chair overturned. Tom’s face moulded from anger to fear in the space of seconds as Alice took control. He looked up at his only daughter as she stood above him. The rise and fall of her chest and deep breathing was enough to let him know, his luck had ran out when it came to bullying Alice. She pointed the wooden stick at him as she spoke down to him.

“Now,you are going to be taught a little lesson, Daddy dear.”

“Alice, you don’t know what you’re doin’. I’m your father.”

“Haha father!” Alice threw her head back mocking him with laughter. “You would not know how to be a father if it jumped up and spat in ya ugly face!”

“Alice, c’mon now.” Tom pleaded as he started to attempt to crawl away from her with his hands.

“Where do you think, you’re going?”

Alice pulled back her arms in the style of a baseball player and struck her father across the back.

Wack!

“ Awww! Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiittttt! Alice for God Sake will you get me off the floor?”

“No, it’s time you learned a little lesson of your own, you shit for brains piss poor excuse of a husband and father. Wait here, oh sorry I forgot YOU’RE A FUCKIN’ INVALID YOU CAN’T MOVE!”

Alice let out a roar of laughter as she swung the bat back and beat her father around the head, face, ribs and groin area. Blood splattered all over her and the walls of the narrow damp infested hallway. Just like it had all those years ago he made her saw off that poor stranger’s head. She heard every crack of a bone, pop of of his skull and brake of his jaw. She loved it. It felt rejuvenated, after all the years of his bullshit.

“Alice, please, don’t do this please I’m–”

“Shut up! Just Shut up”

Wack!

“Awww fuck me Alice, Jesus, ya can’t do this” Tom strained to speak his slurred words through a cracked jaw.

“Poor mama, the poor woman lost her damn mind over you ya piece a-shit. Treated her like dirt, when really you were the dirty, a pig fucking dirt-bag at that. Take that ya bastard.

Wack!

Just like that, Tom’s lights went out. He was gone. Bloody, barely recognisable and in Alice’s eyes pathetic looking. For fun, she hitched up her skirt and pisssed all over him.

“There, that’ll teach you, Daddy.”

Pulling the hem of her dress down she stomped into her Daddy’s barn.

***

It was tough but she did it, she managed to drag her father’s lifeless and bloody body through the back door, out into the dark late evening and into the barn. There she placed down some sheets of plastic her father had left around and dumped him on top. Already covered in blood, that had matted her French braided hair, and smeared itself all over her face and hands. There she stood, in the barn with the pigs going wild to her left. Hungry and acting like savages in their cage at the smell of fresh blood.

Ruuuum rummmmmmm! Rummmm rummmmm!

Alice lifted her father’s chainsaw with a lot more ease than she did when she was thirteen, She sliced down on his thigh just above his knee, with a smile of pleasure a crack of laughter rang out as she watched her dad’s left leg fall away from his body. Into the wee hours of the night, Alice chopped up her father into bite sized chunks and fed his sorry ass to his beloved pigs. The devoured him, every last bone.

***

Five Years Later:

Alice stood at the window  and watched for Billy as he returned home. She listened out for his nosey truck making it’s way up the dirt road. She recentreed her mind to the present day, after she relived her night in the barn five years ago. The night she drummed up a theory about her father’s disappearance, once she fed him to the pigs and cleaned up. Word around town was, he had a terrible “freak accident” and must have fell into the river, as he hit a rock with his wheelchair, while he took an early morning “stroll” by the creek, before she woke up. Well, at least that’s what the police thought after they found his wheel chair overturned by the creek,with no one’s prints on but his.

Alice took a deep breath and looked down at her husband’s shirt. He’d been at it again, a smudged lipstick mark was on his collar. She never cared for lipstick and cosmetics, Alice was not that kind of woman, she never mastered the art of beautifying one’s self. For two months she had restrained herself and not caused a fuss or her suspicions about Billy and his floozy. She felt lucky to have Billy, he stuck by her after her father had his “accident”, and she was all alone. They got married six months after her dad disappeared, while no children had appeared yet she was hopeful, but that would be ruined with another woman in the picture. Of late Billy seemed distant, and uninterested. Secretly her inner voice said to her, if he comes home again smelling of perfume, or with makeup on his shirt, he’d meet a terrible fate in the barn just like her dad did.

Right on cue, Billy pulled up outside the house and jumped out his truck. Alice grit her teeth, narrowed her eyes into a frown, then moulded her face into the loving welcoming wife. She hid his shirt in her closet and made her way downstairs to the front door. It swung open just as she reached the bottom.

“Hey Billy, how was your day?” Alice greeted him in her most friendly, loving wifey voice.

“Ah same old, just work, work, work what’s for dinner.”

Alice narrowed her eyes, as she watched he walked past, he smelt of cheap perfume. She followed him with her gaze as he made his way into the kitchen.

“ Dinner? Oh… something reaaaaaaal special baby, just you wait and see.”

 

Left open for part two! 🙂

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Thank you for all the votes for the writing prompts, Didi and I are always so appreciative for participation, comments, likes and voting.  I’ve NEVER wrote a horror story in my life, so this was a challenge and experience so thanks for the votes for this gory prompt! We both got so busy this week we forgot to announce the winning writing prompt. LOL. We promise this week we won’t … do write with us using the prompts. We’d love to see your stories.

This Is How Kim & Didi’s Suspenseful Collection Works!

We never discuss beforehand how a story should go or who writes what. It’s a surprise for each other to see how their story ends, or what lands in their inbox to finish off.

This interactive writing challenge is simple and insanely creative. It’s a group effort and we are so glad to have you join in the writing fun!!  I hope you’re ready to challenge us by choosing which prompts we can transform into stellar suspense!  Give us your best shot!  You vote on our weekly prompt, and we provide the entertainment. It’s that simple!  The super easy steps are as follows:

STEP ONE: Every Wednesday we’ll post a voting poll with a few prompts to choose from.
STEP TWO: With the click of a button, you cast your vote on a prompt. (voting will stay open for three days.) Once the winning prompt is announced you can join us and write a story too. Use #kdsuspense to link in.
STEP THREE: READ AND ENJOY!  Every week on the following Tuesday we will post the short story that transformed from the very winning prompt.

Read Previous Stories Here!

Week 1 Vol #2 Short Story: I’m Back Bitches,Now Panic! #kdsuspense #amwriting

Beach

“I’m back bitches, now panic!”

 

Author One Scene One:

I can see the pride and freedom in their faces. All five of them. Wearing skimpy bikinis and swim shorts, drunk and dripping wet from their recent dip in the ocean. Beachside in Hawaii, soaking up the sun with the money I’m rotting over. Freckles and all, especially Phyllis, the hag. She’s the mastermind of their entire little group. It used to be me, until Phyllis talked the others into setting me up. The biggest heist in Scottish history, and not only did I miss out on the fun, but I was the one convicted for the crime. What’s worse, I taught them bitches everything they know. How do they repay me? By framing me for millions stolen, and leaving me to waste away behind bars like a caged animal.

And now here I am, sitting in a cell and staring at a photo of my used to be crew. They’ll pay for what they did soon. I live for revenge, it really is the only thing that’s kept my dying body afloat. I can feel the cancer spreading through me. Like spilt paint, it fills every nook and cranny and then crusts there, making it impossible to scrub out. I don’t take the medicine anymore. It only makes me feel worse, and I’ve always refused the Chemo.

There’s no way I’m going to let this sickness take my fiery hair. It’s my trade-mark, helps to distinguish both personalities I portray. To everyone close I keep it curly and wild, usually tied in a giant crazy knot at the crown of my head with zero make-up and glasses to keep my face looking average. Only the few people closest to me get the pleasure of seeing my thick fiery mane the way I really like it. Straightened or waived, it flows perfectly to the curve of my back. I use only the best product as well the top make-up.

When on a job, my looks are perfected. Completely opposite of the plain Jane, sweetie sweet little girl next door type that I come off as, at a first glance on a regular day. It’s been six years since I’ve let the fierce me roam free. Six years since I thickened and curled my lengthy lashes to frame my big green eyes. Six years since was able to paint my full defined lips with my favorite velvety shade of scarlet to match my hair. I can’t fucking wait until tomorrow. Hamish better follow through with his promises. He’s had plenty of time to prepare my goods and a fake ID to get me out of the country, and away from the parole board. I’m sure they’ll be watching me like a hawk.    

The doctor gave me a year to live, and as of tomorrow I’ll be released on ‘good behavior’. I don’t need a full year, only a couple weeks… If that… I’ll finally get my revenge, and after that I don’t care how long the cancer gives me. I only care to see those bitches dead. Every last one of them. I’ve worked at my plan since the very day of my conviction. There was no point in fighting for an appeal. I’m a trickster, the best. Rather than fighting my charges for a second round, I used my time to play the part needed for an early release. The odds were better in my favor that way, and it worked. It takes time and discipline to do what I’ve done in here.

After the first six months served, I confessed fully to the crime I didn’t commit. Then I begged for the help of a priest and a therapist to get me on the right path. After all this time of playing the part I wanted them to see. I now have both religion and mental professionals on my side. No panel of judges can argue with that, especially when paired with the pity of cancer and two years of volunteering at the prison library, as a highly trusted inmate. I haven’t allowed a soul here to see through my act. No fellow inmates, guards, priests or doctors have seen any side of me other than the one I’ve wanted them to. Six fucking years. The stupid sorry saps actually believe that I want to live out the last measly year of my life in peace before the disease rots me from the inside out. They actually feel bad for me the fools.

Thank God for Hamish and our conjugal visits. We’ve been engaged for years, but I really don’t see the point in an actual wedding. I’m just going to die anyway. For the last three years he’s been able to visit the prison every few months and fuck my brains out. All the while whispering sweet not-so-nothings in my ear. He watches them for me. He knows exactly where they go and what jobs they land. Hamish keeps me up to date on every last one of those five motherfuckers. I’m all lined up with everything I need to finish them off. They’ll be holed up in Hawaii for the next month at some top dollar resort. Won’t they be surprised to see my smiling face, years sooner than expected, and just as deadly as always.   

“Two mar’ minutes, Miss McCarmick”

The guard shouts through my bars, my name rolling off her tongue with a thick scottish twang. Her chubby fingers are gripped tightly around a short beating stick, and she taps it a few times against a metal bar to get my attention.

“Yes mum.’”

I glance up and flash her my most innocent smile.

Roberta, my cell-mate, lowers herself next to me on the corner of my rock hard poor excuse of a bed. She’s nice, well to me anyway. Sort of like a mother figure. To most of the inmates she’s a crude old bitch, never putting up with their nonsense. Most of the women here are scared out of their minds of her. To me she’s like a mama bear, which is exactly what I’ve needed.

“You remind me a’ me wee one.” Roberta told me on the day we were paired in the same cell.

A few days later she made a name for herself, by sticking a butter knife through the palm of a woman who tried to snatch a biscuit from my breakfast plate, in the mass hall. Since then no one fucks with me. It’s perfect, because of her it’s been much easier to keep up the charade. The last thing I need is to loose my teetering temper when I’m trying so hard to play a kind hearted soul.

Roberta takes the photo from my hand and stares.

“Bet yer’ ready ta’ see um’. Yeah?” She asks.

“Yes mum, I miss me’ friends dearly.” I lie.

“Looks like fun ther’ gals. I’m happy far ya luv’. Ya don-a deserve to be in har’ with the rest of us’. Yer’ too sweet far’ a place like this.”

“Wall’ anyone can change mum.” I tell her with a suggestive wink.

Roberta’s laugh roars through our cell, husky with her smoker’s scratch.

“I’m a killer love, thar’s no changin’ that.”

I give her a tight hug. Roberta’s the only person I’ll actually miss from the last six years of my measly existence. It’s funny the irony. We’ve grown close based on my alter-personalities likenesses to her daughter. Yet the real me, the one I keep locked away, is so much like her it’s almost surreal. Listening to her stories, and spending so much time with her makes me ache to let my true self out. Soon, very soon I’ll have the freedom to seek the revenge I’ve lived for. I can practically taste it on the tip of my tongue.

“I’ll miss ya’, mum.”

I let my tangled hair loose and retie it in a tighter knot on my head. A few roaming curls tickle my forehead and the back of my neck. I suck in and exhale a few deep breaths as my guard leads the way. Her round hips swing, and a long pony tail swishes back and forth. My hand cuffs itch and the loose ankle chains clatter. I can’t wait to lose this metal baggage. I don’t have to wear them often, but when visiting the board it’s a must.

I take a seat in the lone chair set out just for me. Its light metal frame sets me right in the middle of a small room, windows on both sides, and the walls are a bright daunting white. Rather than avoiding eye contact like most inmates do, I hold a kind confident gaze with the four others who sit across from me. A long table separates me from three men and one woman. All dressed in their best and ready to pass the same judgement as they already have time and time again. My release was already cleared, but the last conversation with my releasing board is required.

Judge Aiken sits in the middle. He’s a foot taller than the rest and his skin a shade darker, tanned easily by the sun. He’s not the typical Scottish man. His blond hair is cut short and his blue eyes are on full display. He’s the same Judge that put me here in the first place, and the first to suggest my freedom.

“Miss McCarmack, are ye’ ready for the big day tomorrow?” Judge Aiken says.

“Yes sir.” I smile kindly, “Thank ye’ again for the faith in me.”

“I must say, your case is one ta’ remember. I’m happy to see the change in ye’”

“So am I sir,”  I act. “I’m glad to have found God, especially with my sickness.”

“Wall’ alright then. I expect you to be on your best behavior.” His thin brows lift in slight warning.

“Yes sir.”

“And your fiance ‘as cleared all the paperwork to pick you up in the marnin”

I nod, excitement rising in my belly as I listen to the Judge.

“He is to take you straight to the halfway house. You’ll stay thar far one whole month befar’ the two of ya’ will be allowed to move together’. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes sir.”

With that all four of them give my guard a nod. This is it. It’s finally happening. This time tomorrow night I’ll be on a plane to Hawaii. Dressed to impress and with my hair and face the way I like. Those fucking whores will never see me coming. I whisper under my breath on the walk back to my cell, “I’m back bitches, now panic.”

Author Two Scene Two

***

London, Heathrow Airport, 14:00 p.m

I close my umbrella on the light rain before I walk through the doors of the busy airport, into the Departures lounge. A feeling of excitement pools in my stomach. Last time I was on a plane I was in cuffs. I was extradited from Scotland to attend my trial at the Old Bailey Magistrates court in London for a crime I never committed. Yeah, I was the mastermind behind  it, I’m a con-artist after all, but I never committed it. All I was meant to do was collect my dough, and make sure everyone got paid. Phyllis decided to change that plan, her move is totally unforgivable.

  I’ve already checked in online and printed my boarding passes. I only have hand luggage with me, I head straight to the bathroom to change out of my “uniform” of plain clothing.  

Yesterday morning I landed at my halfway house with Hamish after my release, dumped my stuff and put in an appearance with my caseworker. I pleaded a great case, oh how grateful I am to be “saved” and how the Lord will guide me from here on out, as I live out my last days while this cancer eats away at me. I threw her off scent about what my whereabouts  will be over the next week. As far as she’s concerned I’ll be bed bound with my Bible and weak tea, studying the scriptures as I  repent my sins further. It was almost too easy, this double personality comes so naturally now. I can slip in and out of it quicker than you can flick a light switch. In the late evening I sneaked out of the halfway house with my hood raised, I hot footed it over to the railway station, and jumped on the last sleeper train from Edinburgh to London. It was mind blowing to step back onto the streets of London after six years inside, the quick pace everyone was walking at, finding my way around at the train station, as I navigated my way to the airport was almost overwhelming. The good thing about London is everyone fits in, no matter who you are no one batted an eyelid at my baggy jeans and oversized jumper.

One thing you learn as a con-artist is to step into the shoes of any and everybody, and never miss a business opportunity when it looks you in the face. As I waive my way through the busy Departures lounge, filled with travellers it feels like I’m in a sardine can, I smile to myself at this thought. What other profession is there that allows you to become whoever you want to be, portray whatever personality that takes your fancy? And not be classed as a nutcase… an actor, writer, stripper maybe? I dunno, either way, all I know is sniffing out a business opportunity to rip someone off is in my Scottish blood, it’s all I know. I see a unsuspecting blonde up ahead ten paces struggling with her bags. Clearly not prepared for the likes of people like me, the perfect opportunist.

“Oh sorry ma’am I never saw you there, I beg yer pardon.”

“It’s my fault all these bags, I shudda packed a wee lighter.”

As the dumb blonde focuses her attention back on her bags I knocked over, I lightly brush past her, then casually walk away toward the bathroom. Proud of myself that I’ve still got it, as I pocket her purse in the waistband of my baggy jeans. I know, small fries pick pocketing the innocent public, too bad, maybe next time she’ll remember to zip up her bag.

***

In the spacious cubicle I kick out of my jeans and jumper, then slip into something a bit more me. Hamish is a legend, when I arrived at the halfway yesterday,  he had all my shit together just how I like it ready to go. I unzip the bag and pout happily at my outfit. Over my head I slip on a nude strappy satin flowy top, then step into a pair of  white wide legged trousers that hug me in all the right places, before they widen at the leg. On my feet I don a pair of nude peep toe four inch heels. On top I slip on a white well tailored Alexander McQueen blazer. I open up the blonde’s purse check out her ID and pocket it along with her £200.00 cash. That will come in handy. I dump her purse in the ceristine of the toilet. Now, I hope Hamish hasn’t forgot to pack my cosmetics. I can’t walk out  dressed to kill without the finishing touches. He didn’t disappoint, stashed in the Karen Millen handbag I pull out a goody bag of cosmetic treats, everything from M.A.C to Kat Von D’s liquid matte lipsticks, he went to town! I also spy my fake passport and some cash. Dumping the canvas bag with my old clothing, I leave the cubicle and  make up my face in the mirror.

Stepping out the lady’s room I feel a million dollars and much more me. I confidently strut to security  and check for my flight on the screen. I see flight LAXL19657 is not delayed, perfect. With eighteen hours of flight time from London to Hawaii  I’ll  stop off in LA, meet Hamish who flew out last night, then pick up my connecting flight direct to Honolulu Hawaii.

***

Kicking back in the business section of the plane, I recline in my seat and finally relax. I hate the way airport security always make you feel as though you have something to hide.

Six years… I say it out loud and shake my head, I can’t believe they went against me, I can’t believe they were actually brave enough. The trip down memory lane is almost painful, as I block out the pretty air hostess swaying their hips, walking up and down the aisle checking everyone is buckled up and ready to depart.

***

 Six Years Ago The Flamingo Hotel &  Casino, Las Vegas:

“Hit, gimmie a hit and be good to me pretty lady!”

You’d hardly recognise me in my uniform and wig I’d wear to work, as part of the last scam we worked on. That’s right I had to get a “job” dealing cards in the casino to get us rich. I flip over a card and place down the five of hearts, on top of the queen of spades.

“Oh sir, yer so close, what’s it gonna be?”

Hamish winks at me ready to get into character and play his role. He looks great in his white  cotton sleeveless shirt, and well cut dark jeans. His skin glows with a sun kissed tan from the Las Vegas sun. He raises his hand to annotate his words.

“Fifteen! Jesus, oh boy this is a close one. What are my chances of lady luck being on my side tonight ? Fifteen is always an unlucky one for me, I always bust. Tonight, I’m on the wide side… hit me!”

I  peek from under my lashes around me, before I switch the cards expertly with ease, then flip over a six of diamonds. The crowd  around my Blackjack table go wild and cheer.

“Twenty one sir! Lady Luck herself is at the Flamingo Hotel tonight!” I announce.

To the outside eye Hamish is a very rich man, twenty five thousand dollars richer to be exact, it appears to spectators Lady Luck is on his side. He’s just an innocent man taking his chances on the cards, just like everyone else soaking up the thrill and rush Las Vegas casinos give you.

I look on through the crowd as everyone’s distracted, celebrating with Hamish. I spy  Kim and Didi  playing their part working the casino floor.  While all eyes are on the jackpot winner by my table, wallets are being lifted left right and center. I see what everyone else doesn’t.

 I watch Kim “accidentally” rub up against  an unsuspecting tourist and spills her champagne all over him.

“Oh, shit I’m sorry mate! Clumsy me ‘er lemme help you wipe ya-self down.”

I laugh at her in my head. The amount of times I’ve heard that line. From her own jeans pocket  she whips out a handkerchief and wipes down the man’s suit. I watch her lift his wallet from his  jacket pocket, distracting him with her apologies all the while.  She totters off in her heels without flinching. She always came across as too clever for my liking  now that I think about it, after all that’s happened. The street and book smart the bitch has got a mouth on her too. London born and raised, she became part of my crew the night she earned her stripes. I crossed paths with her in the bathroom at a nightclub in the upmarket district of Mayfair, in London. The cheeky bitch had the guts to lift my wallet from me, as she brushed past. I knew  what she did it takes one con to know another. When I spun her around and confronted her, she squared off with me in the bathroom, gripped my throat, pinned me up against the wall demanding to know who the fuck I was calling a thief? Bold as brass, an Oscar winning performance she denied it all, I’ll never forget it.  I cut her a deal told her if she worked for me her days of pick pocketing would be over. She bought me a cocktail and all was forgotten.

I look over at Didi setting to work, walking past all the casino’s guests with her brown eyes darting from left to right, seeking out the perfect opportunity.

Now Didi, that bitch is crazy don’t let the pretty innocent blonde, small town girl stereotype fool you. I bumped into her late one night. I was in the right place at the right time. I saw her in action  at 2:00 a.m at a liquor store over in Utah. I watched her tiny  figure roll right up to the clerk, pull a gun out from her waistband, point it in his face as she demanded in some of the most foul language I’ve heard, to fill the bag with cash by the time she counted to three. Once her bag was full, she shot him point blank between the eyes, later she confessed it was “ just for fun” even though the register was empty. I knew right then she’d be useful. As she ran out the store with her hoodie up and cash stuffed in her bag, Hamish caught her. He passed on my message, if she’s a dab hand at  stick ups, she could make a mint working for me. If we ever had a job needing her “skill set”.

Six years ago we all had one common goal Hamish, Didi, Kim, Phyllis, Diego, and me. Make money and that’s it. We spent a good six months ripping off punters and tourists that flock the many casinos in Vegas, lifting their wallets. For our second scam, Hamish was in a different disguise twice a week, playing his special role. Turns out Kim’s a dab hand with theatrical makeup artistry, she’d turn Hamish  into different men, all different races and ages. He’d be a jackpot winner at my table, while I manipulated the cards in his favor.

Once we had our fun and pocked enough dough, I innocently resigned from my role at the casino and disappeared a very rich lady.

We spent two months hiding out in the luxury resort in Cancun, Mexico, while I formed another mastermind plan to get us even richer. I had a link on the inside over at the Royal Bank of Scotland, a London branch was our target. Back then, plan was to left as much cash as we could from the bank. No stick ups, no robbery it was all about clever money laundering. We were successful until Phyllis got greedy, she was pissed that I was due to get a bigger cut of the money, and so I should have. I was the one who masterminded the whole damn plan, and had the link. When the crew and I returned to London, from Cancun her and those two other bitches Didi and Kim dropped me right in the shit.

***

 London, six years ago, outside The Royal Bank of Scotland:

“Okay girls this is it are we ready?”

“Phyllis are you sure she’s tryin-a  con us out of our money?”

“Kim, how many times have I gotta tell yer’ ? Yes, of course she is, she’s taking a full sixty percent cut while you, me, Didi, Diego and Hamish share forty percent. Does that sound fair?”

“I just don’t think she’d do it that’s all.”

“Kim, if you’re going to pussy out then go now, we can’t afford to fuck this one up. If you can’t be the getaway driver, we’ll find someone who will and give your cut to them.”

“Didi, I’m just sayin-”

“Fuck just sayin’ Kim, you in or out?”

“You better make sure your ass don’t get caught that’s all I’m sayin’ Didi we all know how trigger happy you get. And you Phyllis, keep an eye out!.”

“I’ve held up enough liquor stores to know what I’m doing, a bank can’t be that much more harder.”

“You’re one crazy bitch, Didi”

“That’s right. Now, put the car in gear and let’s go you’re lucky I don’t know how to drive on the left or I’d do it my damn self.”

“Phyllis you got the red wigs right?”

“Of course, let’s go. This is our evidence, got to make it look like she was one of robbers.”

***

“All right bitches, everyone on the floor and put ya hands behind ya head. Nobody move.”

“You heard her people, let’s go, that gun’s loaded and she will shoot.”

“You, fill up the bag now, all them notes back there are mine ya hear me?  Not just the sterling notes if ya got any dollars up in there they’re mine too. Any funny movements ya not gonna make it home tonight ya understand?”

“C’mon c’mon hurry up already! Shit mother-fucker let’s go I anit got all day.”

 

***

Can you believe that shit?  Didi held up the fucking Royal Bank of Scotland, dressed in a red wig to put me in the picture. Phyllis was the look out, Kim she was the getaway driver. She did it too, they picked a bank located not far from the motorway on the outskirts of London, for easy access to get away. Kim put her foot down. She drove that unmarked BMW  bad ass, just over two hundred miles up the M40  from London to Manchester.  When I saw the footage on the BBC News even I was proud of her, the five-oh couldn’t keep up with her swift lane changes. She threw ‘em off they crashed into a bollard and caused a massive pile up on the motorway.

To show you the kind of crazy these bitches are they staged their own crash, with a clever car switch organized by Diego, for a cut of the money of course. Those three bitches never got caught running off with my dough, Kim got them to Manchester in one piece.  

That’s not all, the bitches left my DNA everywhere in that bank. While we were in Cancun, turns out they were plotting and collecting hair from my hairbrush, ready for the big day. That’s the only thing I can think of, when the five-oh  arrested me part of the incriminating evidence was hair DNA that put me at the crime scene. As well as Didi in her red wig. Kim, hmm like I said she always was too clever for my liking, I’d put that DNA move down to her. She is in for it once I get hold of her.

So there you have it, I went down for a crime I never committed, had no knowledge of and was never part of. All because of Phyllis and her greed.

 

As I focus my mind back to the present, I say a silent prayer to myself as we take off the runway… destination LA.

***

LAX Airport Bar:

Lynn  MCcarmack, well well look at you live and in living color.”

I sigh a breath of relief as I watch Hamish swagger up to me, with his bag slung over his shoulder.

“Hamish boy am I glad to see yer. What’s the latest?”

“Hold on, where’s your ring?”

“Hamish I’ve got it don’t worry about it, tell me what’s been going on?”

“They’re still there in Honolulu at some top dollar resort, Diego is still with them too he’s not left the girl’s side.”

“Hmm wonder why?”

“Well there’s nothing going on but you know Phyllis, once she’s got her claws in she won’t let go.”

“So what’s the plan Lynn? Once we get over to Honolulu what are you gonna do with them?”

I look Hamish square in the eye over my tumbler of whisky, I needed a little pick me up after that long flight. I narrow my eyes in deep thought.

“Hamish, trust me the question is what aint  I gonna do with them.”

“Ah- ha! Now this I gotta see, drink up our flight’s been announced.”

***

Honolulu, Hawaii

I step out the airport beaming from ear to ear, the paradise before me just adds a little sweetener to my day. Eighteen full hours in traveling, finally I’m here.

“You got the address Hamish?”

“Don’t need it, I know it like the back of my hand.”

I watch him flag down a taxi, the driver pulls over outside the Arrivals exit, and jumps out to open the doors.

“After you my sweet.” Hamish says.

I smile a sweet smile and jump in.

“Where to please sir, ma’am?”

“The Waikiki resort, I’ll give you a shout where to stop off.”

As we ride along to the resort I don’t know if it’s the almost forty degree heat, the blue sky, the sight of palm trees lined up along the street, or the thought of finally confronting my old crew members that makes my heart sing. Either way, this place is paradise. To think six years ago all this beauty would have been an everyday thing for me. The clear water, white sand, exotic locations around the world were like a second home to me, right after Scotland. The contrast of the two environments is big, I know where I’d rather be, but Scotland shaped me into who I am, and will always be home.

Thirty minutes later we step out of the taxi into the harsh midday sun, a slight breeze blows from the sea literally across the road. I look around as Hamish pays the driver, the cunts made sure the picked the best of the best, beach front, great views on what appears to be a lively strip.

“Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be Hamish.”

We walk up to the lavish complex building, white washed, sparkling windows, open front balconies. It screams glamour,wealth and money. Stopping at the gate, Hamish looks around then taps a code in on the pad, the gate opens.

“Bingo!”

“How do yer find out the code?”

“Inside job, don’t ask.”

I smirk, at Hamish, some things never change. Behind the gates a pool greets us, the luxury makes my blood boil even more, standing back in the bushes I observe what looks like an average day. Kim sitting pretty at the table with a large sun hat on, with her nose in a fashion magazine, Didi with her sunglasses low sunning herself on a lounger, Phyllis doing laps in the pool and Diego preparing a BBQ, cutting up strips of meat. Hamish and I look at each other and smile. Finally, I’ve got them, finally revenge is going to be mine. I chew the inside of my lip the feeling is so sweet.  I’ve dreamed of this day for six  years. I imagined all kinds of scenarios  for the day we finally met, never did I imagine I’d fly thousands of miles to paradise to confront them.

“Go get ‘em tiger.” Hamish teases me.

I throw my fire red mane back and strut out from behind the bushes, toward the pool area, Hamish follows behind me.

“Well, I hate to spoil the party guys is there space for one more?”

Four pairs of eyes look up at me, their mouths hit the floor. Kim raises an eyebrow in my direction, Didi puts her poker face on show. Diego reaches for a knife from the table. Phyllis almost drowns herself in the pool at the sight of me, but she’s the first to panic.

“Lynn Lynn OMG you’re… you’re… what  ya doing ‘ere you’re out early? Listen ya gotta hear me out, they made me do it, Didi an’ Kim they made up all kinda shit about you I had no choice.”

“Lying bitch, you were the ring leader! I know all about it. That’s right I’m back bitches, now panic.”

Nicely left open so we can do part two if we get a good response!!

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This Is How Kim & Didi’s Suspenseful Collection Works!

We never discuss beforehand how a story should go or who writes what. It’s a surprise for each other to see how their story ends, or what lands in their inbox to finish off.

This interactive writing challenge is simple and insanely creative. It’s a group effort and we are so glad to have you join in the writing fun!!  I hope you’re ready to challenge us by choosing which prompts we can transform into stellar suspense!  Give us your best shot!  You vote on our weekly prompt, and we provide the entertainment. It’s that simple!  The super easy steps are as follows:

STEP ONE: Every Wednesday we’ll post a voting poll with a few prompts to choose from.
STEP TWO: With the click of a button, you cast your vote on a prompt. (voting will stay open for three days.) Once the winning prompt is announced you can join us and write a story too. Use #kdsuspense to link in.
STEP THREE: READ AND ENJOY!  Every week on the following Tuesday we will post the short story that transformed from the very winning prompt.

100 Words Wednesday Short Story: The Cocktail Bar #100wordswednesday #100WW

It’s Wednesday and another challenge from Bikurgurl. What 100 words (or so) can you give this image? It’s great that every Wednesday her post is live on my feed as soon as I wake up. I set up my son with his breakfast, make a coffee and mull over the picture. This week’s photo of cocktails spoke to me, it prompted a short story/ flash fiction. I’m a little over 100 but… I write novels don’t shoot me!

 

100ww_w30.jpg

 

 8:00 p.m Friday Night, The Cocktail Bar,

 I glance around the bar looking for my date. Hell, not that I know who I’m looking for this is a blind date. Lucy bless her she set me up with some guy from her office, she thinks is “perfect for me.” I couldn’t pass up a night of free cocktails, I thought what the hell you only live once. 

The air is thick with cigar smoke and the lights are low, all eyes focus on centre stage as a Jazz band entertains the crowd. I spot him over by the bar nursing a drink. That has to be him right? I make my way over closing the gap between us, as I snake my way through the tables. What do I say? My heat pounds, what if it’s not him?

“Hi I’m Julie.”

“Hey, I’m Brian.”

He offers me his hand as he glances me over from head to toe. Is it him? He snaps his fingers at the bar tender.

“Put another one in there for me.” He demands.

As  the bar tender makes quick work of his drink and slides a fresh tumbler across the bar, I  drink him in. He’s handsome and well dressed, but is it him? He’d know me by name surly.

“So you been here before Julie?” 

“No never, I’m… I’m… here meeting a friend you could say.”

“Ah a date?” He sniggers  then takes a healthy sip of his scotch to hide his amusement. He snaps his fingers again at the bar tender. Clearly Brian is used to being the authority.

“One for the lady too, what’s your poison Julie?”

I raise an eyebrow in his direction. “Cosmopolitan.”

***

 After two hours of conversation against the back drop of smooth jazz, and four Cosmopolitans thrown back, I’m tipsy and dateless. Old whats-his-name did a no-show. His loss… As Brian and I stumble into the back of a black cab from London Bridge to his place, the Cosmopolitans start talking to me. “You only live once! That’s why you went on this date.” Cocktails were always my weak spot, as well as a man in a sharp suit smelling good.

 

Now It Feels Real!! The Postman Just Arrived Arrrgh!! @Didi_Oviatt #newrelease #kdsuspense #amreading

wp_20170730_002.jpgNow it all feels even more real, to see my latest works in paperback, not just on Amazon in e-book. To feel it physically in my hand makes my heart race! Didi Oviatt and I done it!! Our debut work together  in one anthology all 50,000 odd words of it. So proud to have this author’s name on a cover with mine, she’s extremely talented and  a friendship has grown.  The covers look fantastic, even if I say so myself. Really chuffed with both books.  Didi and I will be back at the end of July… which is like next week! With Kim and Didi’s Suspenseful Collection spinning tales for you. I look forward to it.

I’m Just Teasing… #amreading #kdsuspense

Of all the stories I wrote with this suspenseful chick across the pound Didi, this has to be up there as one of my favourite! Never seen before, bonus story #1 Guilty As Charged, In Self Defence…. Our Catherine is quite a character, and the ending will leave you with your mouth open. 🙂

Teaser:

Monday June 1st, 2016, California Supreme Court.

In the lady’s room, I look myself over. I feel good. I take in all the minor details. The sharp fringe of my blunt bob, minimal make-up, my best well-tailored black Chanel skirt suit, sky high red bottom Christian Louboutin heels. Perfect. I feel confident I’ve got this in the bag. I was raised a strict catholic by my mom, I bow my head in prayer before I walk out. Today as confident as I feel I’ll need God on my side. The prosecution lined up a good case. Naturally they have played on her as a money grabbing whore. She was a Las Vegas showgirl, doing what she had to do before she met that bastard. That does not give her a motive for murder… I hope.

***

“All rise please. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, we’re here to hear the case of Mrs. Dennessa Chevelle. On trial for the murder of Ronald Chevelle.”

I watch an officer move over to Mrs. Chevelle, and hand her a bible to place her hand on. She gives her plea of not guilty and the show begins. The prosecution swim around her like sharks. A jumped up over confident suit, with way too much hair gel takes the center stage. He tries to break her down. I clinch my jaw, as my eyes watch him prance around the court room.

“Mrs. Chevelle, is it true you were a stripper before you met your late husband?”

“No, well yes but not a stripper I was a performer in Las Vegas. That’s how we met.”

“Right, right.  A performer.

The sarcastic chump uses quotation marks around performer, as he looks over at the jury. My anger rises.

“And how would you describe your financial situation at the time, stable? Or unstable?”

“I… I did not have much that’s true but I got by.”

All eyes rest on Mrs. Chevelle as he pushes her.

“Mrs. Chevelle, if you could please answer the question.”

A low voice leaves Mrs. Chevelle, she lowers her lashes to the ground.

“Unstable.”

“Unstable you say? Is it fair to say a man like Mr. Chevelle was desirable due to his financial status, maybe?”

The fuckin’ douche, he’s wasting no time. I get to my feet and call out to the judge.

“Objection!”

“Ms. O’Neil, please remain seated. As you were Mr. D’Costa.”

I look over at Mrs. Chevelle and hope she doesn’t fall for the trap.

“No, certainly not. How dare you assume such a thing. He was my husband, not a meal ticket!”

That-a-girl Mrs. Chevelle. I take a seat and breathe a sigh of relief. I look over at the jury. Predominantly female, excellent. I’ll let this shark paint whatever picture he wants of Mrs. Chevelle, in my defence case I’ll hit ‘em with the abused woman story and give them some shit the female jury members never got to read in Hello magazine.

***

“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, as you can see the prosecution has tried to paint a picture of a money grabber, a whore and a stripper.”

I move closer to the jury, and slowly walk past the stand with confidence as I talk.

“The woman you see over there in that stand, is none of these things.”

I stop for a beat in front of a female juror around Mrs. Chevelle’s age.

“You see that lady over there, she was an abused woman, mentally, physically and emotionally.”

The female juror moves her eyes over to Mrs. Chevelle, she takes a closer look at her on the stand. Right on cue, Mrs. Chevelle blows her nose into her tissue and wipes her eyes. Perfect. I watch the women in the jury stand some more. Their faces move from pinched up discomfort to shock. Beautiful. I walk back across the room to center stage, and command their attention. ….. TO BE CONTINUED!!

 

A suspenseful novel with a twist. Eight short stories, by two suspense authors, from diverse backgrounds. From opposite sides of the Atlantic these stories have been created. One author started the tale and the other ended it. No discussion, no pre-planning, but yet their stories are seamless. With just creativity and the use of writing prompts, to craft one tale, with two different writers. This anthology of suspenseful, fast paced and engaging tales covers multiple genres. From heart felt romance, crime, fantasy, and steamy historical fiction. There is a story for everyone!

Steamy Historical Crime Fiction: It was The First Time I Killed A Man.

It’s 1972 and New York’s first female serial killer Lisa Vanacilli is in the hot seat again, ten years after her conviction of murder to the first degree and innocent plea. The ruthless but sexy reporter Tiffany Low cracks Lisa for a confession… at a price. Lisa is strong, courageous and says it how it is. This story has been extended due to reader’s demand. And is only for adult readers.

Psychological Fiction: Every Time I Hear That Voice From The Basement.

George appears to be harmless. The local neighbourhood geek on the outside, married to Jolene. In reality, he’s a very disturbed man. His path crosses with Dana, the local check out girl. This is a psychological suspense story with a twist.

Crime Fiction: The Entrance To The Tunnel Is His Only Way Out.

Juan is a wanted man, and an ex-gang member on the run from Atlanta to Mexico. With a hundred grand in cash stolen from his ex-boss, he meets an unlikely fate in Mexico. A fast-paced crime fiction story.

Contemporary Romance: When His Hands Run Up My Thighs I…

Love has no time limit, age limit or use by date. Sarah now in her fifties is reunited with her long-lost love Joshua. They last had contact in 1961. In the present day, thanks to the advancement of technology their paths cross. A heart-warming and modern tale, about long distance love, that will leave you warm inside.

Suspense: We Only Said Goodbye With Words, I Died A Hundred Times:

In 1963 Russian Femme Fatale Mila Petrov is London’s top Madam. Her entertainment house is booming, she has a team of London’s strongest women behind her. Unfinished business from her past creeps up and haunts her. It’s nothing she can’t handle. A suspenseful historical tale, with a strong femme fatale.

Fantasy: The Ones Who Live At The Bottom Of The Ocean, Come To The Surface.

A beautiful coming of age story, featuring sixteen year old Zoe and her mother May-Li. Myth becomes reality, as Zoe finds out who and what she really is. Her mixed descent reveals more than what meets the eye. This fantasy story is set against the backdrop of a Greek island and Hong Kong, China.

Suspenseful Crime Fiction: Guilty As Charged, In Self-Defence

California’s sassy, tough, and likeable defence lawyer Catherine has taken on a case so high profile, if she wins she’ll become a partner of Martin Law Firm. Defending forty six year old Mrs. Chevelle. An ex Las Vegas show girl, now a Hollywood wife, on trial for the murder of her high-profile husband. She claims she’s innocent. Readers are taken on a fast -paced journey on a mission to seek the truth.

Contemporary Fiction: It’s A Man’s Man’s World:

A beautiful modern tale showing the love and appreciation of a woman. James Brown said it right when he said, “it’s a man’s man’s world, but it would mean nothing without a woman or a girl.”

 

Updated-Telling-Tales-Weekly-Challenege-Kim-&-Didi

National Novel Writing Month: My Progress Update & Sneek Peek at Romance Set in Paradise Book # 3 #nanowrimo #amwriting #romance

mums

 

Yes, thank you Lord family quality time, dinner, bath and bed time are complete. Late evening here in London and now and it’s time to get serious. We’ve just passed the mid-way point of National Novel Writing Month. I’m joining in for the second time. With all that’s happened so far this July, two books released in the space of one week of each other, it’s not surprising that I’ve had little time to work on my third addition to the Romance Set in Paradise series. I’m only 5,000 words into my target of now 20,000. This one’s a super short heartwarming yet steamy story set in Europe this time – Greece. With a more mature female lead.

I’ve been feeling writing stories set in a era that I love the 1950s- 1960s, especially since we used this era a bit over the last few months for The Suspenseful Collection Volume One, I’ve had my head stuck in this time frame. I particularly love the jazz scene I always have. Ya know when all those cool smoke filled jazz bars popped up. This style of music was just starting to kick in in the UK, from research we had our own take on the bebop style of music. I imagine women on stage with elegant dresses singing the blues, with piano and saxophone players in the background. I really like this era.

I’m writing this love story for my characters  using flashback, something I have done before in stories to tell a tale, but not to this area.

Anyways, here’s an unedited little snippet of what I’ve got so far. All writers taking part this July, I hope your word count is doing better than mine! We’ve got two weeks to get stuck in… here goes tonight I am working on it as I plan to have a weekend free of writing and have some much needed fun and celebration two books released in one month? I deserve a drink!

Excerpt: Book #3 Romance Set in Paradise – I’m not tellin’ you the title yet! 🙂

 

1960 Maurice’s Place, Oxford Street Central London

Jane slightly lifts the hem of her elegant black dress as she steps down from the stage. The crowd cheer and clap, begging her for more. She just gave them all she had, while singing a very heartfelt version of Smokey Robinson’s Who is Loving You? As much as she wants to be up there on the stage again, with all eyes on her she must take a breather. Her voice would not last the full week if she keeps singing with such heart, without a rest. Heads turn and smiles come her way as she walks confidently through the crowds. Through the smoke-filled room she heads over to the bar and takes a seat.

“You did great up there, Jane you sounded amazing.”

“Why thanks Jenelle, that means so much coming from you.”

“I mean it, don’t sell yourself short. You should seriously think about coming back with us to New Orleans when we return. We could do with a blue eyed soulful sista.”

Jenelle playfully laughs and places an arm around Jane’s shoulders. A dry martin slides up between them. Jane is still not quite used to the star treatment she receives every time she sings over at Maurice’s Place. She ponders Jenelle’s proposal as she places a thin smoke in its holder. Jenelle fires a match for her to light her smoke. After the first satisfying drag, she leans back in the high backed bar stool and looks around.

Maurice’s place has felt like home to her for almost a year now. At just sixteen years old she left school with decent qualifications, then bummed around for two years deciding what to do with her life. At seventeen years old she scored her first stage role at Maurice’s Place. She works behind the bar three nights a week and spends the other two on stage.

New Orleans would be like a dream come true, she has always loved to sing, but only started to take it seriously over the last year. Maybe New Orleans could give her the big break she wants. The Jazz scene in London is starting to pick up, just a year earlier Ronnie Scott opened up a new Jazz room in Soho, but thoughts of being on stage in the USA leave Jane with a twinkle in her eye.

The lights in the room dip, hushing the crowds relaxing in the comfy sofas and high back chairs, sitting around small round tables. All eyes move to the centre of the room. A group of three men set themselves up on the stage. One lead singer, one saxophone player and one piano player. The smooth vocals of the male lead singer float through the air, Jane is mesmerised by his showmanship and voice. But it’s the saxophone player who piques her interest. She studies him as his skillful fingers move over the his instrument. He’s lost in the music, he pulls Jane in.

“So what do ya say Jane?”

The corner of Jenelle’s lips turn up slowly as she watches her friend under the spell of the musicians on stage. Jane’s eyes are fixed on the saxophone player, her smoke has long reached the end and burnt out. Yet she holds it posed between her fingers as if it’s still smouldering. Jenelle laughs to herself and moves her hand over Jane’s vision, to snap her out of her daze.

“Earth to Jane, earth to Jane anyone home?”

“Gosh, I’m sorry Jenelle, did you say something?”

“Look at you! All caught up in the music… or is it Mr. Sax player?”

Jane moves her eyes away from the stage, and joins in the girly laughing with her girlfriend. Tipping her burnt out smoke in the ashtray, she reaches for another one. Before she answers Jenelle’s question she studies Mr. Sax on stage playing his tune some more, and sips her martini.

“My, he’s handsome don’t ya think Jenelle?”

“More than handsome, he sure can play too.”

“Hmm, I’ve never seen this band before have you?”

“Not here no, they have played over at Ronnie Scott’s a few times. I was over there just last week. They brought the house down at Ronnie’s!”

Jane meets Jenelle’s eyes.

“ Really, they were over at Ronnie’s place. Gosh, I can imagine, they sound great.”

“You never answered my question, what about New Orleans? I’m serious.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, of course?”

“You think I could make it over there? Would I be welcome in your community Jenelle?”

“Jane, don’t worry about skin colour, it’s not about that it’s about the music, the voice, the stage presence. All of which you have honey, don’t let that racial segregation shit get to you.”

“Hmm I guess so, you’re right.”

“Plus, that Martin Luther King, he’s doing all he can to help everyone in the USA move forward.”

“You’re right, let me give it some thought.”

“You do that, I’d love you to come over.”

Both ladies smile at each other and toast their martini glasses.

TO BE CONTINUED! 🙂

Out Now On Pre-Sale: Just .99p /.99$ On Amazon For A Limited Time.#amreading #romance #newrelease

Blurb:

Lover’s Retreat is book #2 of the Romance Set in Paradise Series of stand alone modern, steamy, suspenseful and romantic stories. All set in exotic locations around the world.

For thirty seven year old recluse Yasmin O’Neil, life feels like one crisis after another. Her husband left her five years ago, she starts to suspect she’s losing her hearing, and then her mother is diagnosed with cancer. When her mother passes away her fortune changes. Yasmin is fifty thousand pounds richer from her mother’s estate. Yasmin takes her fate into her own hands after years of being a recluse, she rediscovers herself at a spiritual retreat in Sri Lanka south Asia, before she plans to spend the next six months travelling around the world. In Sri Lanka, Yasmin’s path crosses with Michael Thomas, an army soldier on his own path of self discovery. With their luke warm initial encounter the pair don’t hit it off straight away. After some push and pull the two are finally on the same page. Their encounter turns from luke warm to a steamy sizzling hot.

In Lover’s Retreat two very different characters originally on different paths, embrace the need for change and companionship. Set in the back drop of paradise, palm trees and untouched nature of Sri Lanka, these two lonely souls gain more than just self discovery they gain a soul mate.

Release Date: 20th July 2017

On Pre-sale now just .99p / .99$ until the flash sale ends  on the 31st July. Click Links Below.

Amazon.com

Amazon.uk

 

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Released July 20th 2017