Murder By Coincidence

 

February 14, 2025

Photo by: AMORIE SAM : https://www.pexels.com/@amorie-sam-468180864/.

Davis was beyond excited as he carried his latest book purchase home. At last, his favourite author Karen Mcelmore, had released her latest book, Murder By Coincidence. He had loved her murder mysteries since the first one, The Errant Clue, had arrived years ago.

When he made it home he flopped down on the couch without removing his shoes and coat all the while ripping at the paper bag. There was too much reading to do to worry about the trivialities of life.

He excitedly devoured the first page feeling a small twinge at the back of his brain. Karen had set up the first page so thoroughly.

Ignoring this twinge he rushed on to the second page with great enthusiasm when a little larger pang followed the twinge. Already he could see the mystery was a foot.

He blinked twice and kept on reading. As he discovered the victim on the third page, a dull pressure was forming behind his eyes. 

A locked room with the victim face down on the floor was on the fourth page where Davis’ eyes endured a greater pressure. His eyes bulged as he tried to maintain his focus on what he was reading.

Davis soldiered on oblivious to all around him. He was fascinated as he followed Karen’s enchanting words.  “The flame faded in the night sending shock waves throughout the body.” His body shook slightly upon reading these words.

The dull roar had turned to a full on headache by the sixth page where the man with little grey cells had entered the room. Davis had considered taking an extra strength aspirin for this headache but had determined that despite the pain he would soldier on. Karen deserved that consideration. She would power through it. As the man with the little grey cells observed his initial view of the scene one could see the machinations at work.

By the seventh page Davis was slumped face down on top of the book with blood gushing out of his ears and eyes

As the man with the little gray cells examined the murder scene he stated, “Murder By Coincidence? I think not. I am surprised that he lasted only 7 pages.” 

Karen smiled fatefully when she heard this. She turned her attention towards who the next person was that had just purchased her book.

When Fiction Meets Life: A Love Story in Poetry and Short Fiction

 

When Fiction Meets Life

I like to believe that writers of Fiction write some of their stories by incorporating things they see, hear, read, or are told by others in their work. They also make up a vast amount of what ends up in the story. I am fascinated by how they blend together.

The following are all based on real events that happened this month. Some prior to the picture and others after the picture. Together this blending of fact and fiction paints a picture. 

Enjoy!

Life Will Be Just Fine

February 9, 2025

There are days when darkness comes

Idle moments lacking fun

Temporary thoughts crowd my mind

Covering my sight by design

There are times when I‘m afraid

Times when life isn’t what heaven made

Times when directions are so messed up

Up is down and down is just enough

There are days when you simply smile

There my heart goes

There my love grows

As you wait patiently for me

To be what I have to be

In the spring leaves begin to grow

Reaching for the sun just to show

Renewal happens just in time

Blowing the clouds from this bind

Knowledge being so refined

Life will be just fine

At last 

Life will be just fine

Two Hearts Move As One

I wrote a story

But it couldn’t compare to you

I wrote a poem

It didn’t capture all that you do

I wrote of life

But yours is bigger than my words

I wrote of love

Trying to capture all that is unheard

We’ve lived a life

Just for you and me

We’ve travelled far

Examined all that we could see

We’ve grown and changed

Had our lives rearranged

Entangled and exchanged

And now it’s time

To move on to the next stage

To live a life more engaged

Write a new page 

Enter a new age

Will you join me

As we strengthen our love?

Where two hearts move as one.

Your Love Is A Miracle

Your love is a miracle

Seeing 

What cannot be seen

Trusting 

What cannot be trusted

Giving 

When others do not receive

Believing 

When others do not believe

Quietly calm

It reflects 

Basic principles

Of life

Defining you

In terms of 

True humanity

While you employ

Your love

Steadily 

Gracefully

Graciously

Ever present

To those

Who enter 

Your world

Your love is miracle

Vows

February 11, 2025

Prompt by: THE FICTION DEALER: Microdosing Fiction - 100mg of VOWS

Photo by:Eduraw Pro

“I have to make new vows after 10 years of living together?”

“The general idea is when you get married you say vows.” she paused. “What vows did you make 10 years ago?”

He gave her a gigantic smile. “I vowed that I would treat you with respect. That I would give our relationship everything I had to give. That I would listen and consider your thoughts and feelings and not take you for granted. That I would encourage you and support you and do everything I could to make you happy.”

“I think you’ve got it covered,” she smiled.

That’s What Love Is

February 13, 2025

You’ve captured my life

You've captured my soul

You’ve given me love

You’ve shared what you know

I have given you everything

Because that’s what love is

We have shared our paths

We have walked all the way

We’ve talked of many things

We’ve share what we know

Love has been everything

Because that’s what love is

We have given our love

We shared as we’ve grown

We’ve built a good life

We’ve built a good home

We have made it everything

We ever would have wanted

She Said Yes

February 16, 2025

Prompt by: THE FICTION DEALER: The Batch of Micro-Fiction #39 : WAITING in 70 words!

Photo by: Elegant Images

She’d been waiting for 10 years with a resolve that poker players would envy. 

For better. For Worse. In sickness. And in health.

So much in life. Together they forged a life, a journey, based on mutual respect. A learning curve that moved mountains.

She felt an incredibly deep love. 

She secretly hoped his deep love would bend a knee.

Until one day he saw the light

She said YES.

With Some Excitement

February 15, 2025

“Yes!” she yelled at the top of her voice with her left hand rising again and again with each yes. She progressed to a quick dance around the room, smiling a beatific smile, all the while gazing at her left hand where the new diamond ring sat luminously. The tears of joy rolled down her cheeks in perfect unison before dropping away. Her gaze turned from the ring to another set of eyes.

“I gather you are happy about getting engaged,” asked a delighted voice.

“More than you will ever know,” she said as she folded herself into his arms.

Love

It was flowers, balloons and roses

But not quite a Valentine's dream,

A fifty-third wedding celebration

Holding hands and letting the tears stream.

They sat together and reflected

Sitting close on a functional couch,

A clock was quietly ticking

And morphine dripped from the pouch.

Valentine's Day spent in the hospice

watching their daughter fade away.

A room full of love and love symbols

Just praying that she could stay.

 

 A Valentine’s Surprise
Part II

Though Catherine wanted to flee, she was frozen, knowing her tormentors would see her. But their laughter faded—they’d gone the other way. Her head was spinning. How had she misread it so badly? She considered calling Harriet but stopped herself. No, she’d say nothing. She’d get her revenge.

Somehow, she made it home, but the journey was a blur. She collapsed onto the sofa and sat there all night, thinking, planning, plotting. Sleep never came, but by morning, she had an idea.

A call to Peter before work set everything in motion—if he wanted to protect his career, he’d do as she said.

At Acme Typing Service, Harriet paused at Catherine’s desk, concerned.


“You disappeared last night. You weren’t on the subway. What happened?”


Catherine smiled. “So sorry, I had plans to make. I should have said so.”

Juliette arrived last, maintaining her usual secretive air she set to work.
The girls chatted about their Valentine’s celebrations until Catherine cut in.
“How about you, Juliette? Hope you spent the evening with someone special.”

Juliette’s fingers hesitated over her keyboard. Catherine never spoke to her. Why now?


“Just a quiet night at home,” she lied, without looking up. She couldn’t know. Could she?

 Her typewriter fought her all morning—typos, a broken ribbon. And Catherine kept watching her. By lunch, the anxiety was unbearable. She needed to see Peter. He’d reassure her. 

A quick subway ride to Queen’s Park—
“He’s not in today,” his secretary said. “He didn’t call, didn’t show. Not like him at all.”

Juliette’s heart pounded. She walked back to the office, stopping to telephone Peter at  home from a phone booth. No answer. Further along, another booth. Still no answer. 

Back at the Acme, the familiar clatter of typewriters should have been comforting. Instead, dread settled in. Where was Peter? Was Catherine behind this? 

Juliette fretted all afternoon when suddenly the door opened. 

Peter strolled in, dressed impeccably, a bouquet in hand. Catherine was already beside him, an arm around his waist.


“Girls,” she announced, “meet my dear Peter.”

The girls gasped. Juliette stood frozen. She was relieved to see him, but wondered what was happening.

Peter avoided Juliette’s gaze. Then, dropping to one knee, he asked, “Catherine, will you marry me?”

Catherine let the moment hang in silence before flashing a mischievous smile.


“I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last man on earth.”

Peter’s face fell. The girls held their collective breath.


“You… you don’t want to marry me?” he stammered.

“Oh, darling, not in a million years.” She tossed her hair back dramatically. 

Juliette’s heart thudded. Peter, confused and humiliated, stood awkwardly.


“Isn’t this… what you wanted?”

Catherine winked. “Sorry, darling, but I prefer a man with a spine.” 

Peter stared, stunned. Then, without a word, he dropped the flowers, turned and walked out.

Catherine watched him leave as she picked up the bouquet with a  satisfied sigh.

She turned to Juliette, and with the sweetest tone asked, “Ready to get back to work? Or do you need a moment?”

Juliette shook her head. “You knew?”

Catherine grinned. “Indeed.”

Juliette chuckled. “You put him up to that?”

Catherine smirked. “Indeed.”

The office girls began to buzz again, gossiping and speculating, but Juliette couldn’t bring herself to care. Catherine was right. A man without a spine wasn't worth it.

She watched as Catherine casually arranged the flowers Peter had left behind. The sheer nerve—it was impressive.

Juliette leaned back in her chair, a small smile formed on her lips in spite of herself. She was the victim, but she could appreciate the game Catherine had played. She couldn’t help but feel a little admiration for her cunning, even if it was at her own expense.

Succubus

 

 by Adrian Truss

Harold Greenside stumbled up the stairs to his apartment, drunk again on a Saturday night. When at last he reached his door, he fumbled for his keys, dropped them on the floor, cursed and bent down to pick them up. In reaching down, he bashed his head on the doorknob and let out a short yelp of pain. He thrust the key into the lock and let himself into his dank, dark one-bedroom apartment in the east end. He flopped down onto the couch, rubbing his sore head and feeling very sorry for himself. Taking up the remote for the tuner he started a song, switched to another and finally landed on a ballad by Tony Bennet.

He listened to it for a bit then got up and poured himself a scotch and went over and gazed out the window over the city. Thousands of lights and thousands of people, he thought, and most of them nestled up completely with their significant ‘other’, having a grand old time and comforting each other with warm smiles and hugs and kisses. But not him. He was just drunk.

To hell with this, he thought. I am so sick of being alone and pretending that it doesn’t matter. Even at his job he pretended that he was A-okay, was happy and that his solitary existence was a matter of choice. And to an extent it was. He could definitely make a better showing of himself clothing-wise and hang out in places that might be frequented by women who might take an interest in him. But somehow, he always ended up at Gus’s Place, at the bar, talking to one of the other regulars, or even Gus himself. If by some strange chance a woman or group of women wandered into the bar, mistaking it for a place that might be classy or even adventurous, they would immediately be swarmed by the herd of lonely men in the place and leave with them or run, screaming into the night.  No, Gus’s Place was not the place for romance or anything akin to it.

But things couldn’t go on like this, he thought. They’ll end up finding me dead in bed or something.  I have to do something.

Succubus Continued