Tag Archives: thriller

Friday Fictioneers

Friday Fictioneers are riding again! And I get to ride along again, finally! Thanks to our leader, Rochelle, for her weekly wrangling of us. And thanks for the lovely photo from Amy Reese 🙂 Do be sure to check out all the other stories based on the photo HERE!

She sat stiffly, ignoring the damp chill and dripping water.

How could he? He was hers. No one could have him. She had taken care of him for years. Was this her thanks? A trampy redhead from advertising?

NO! She shifted on the cold cement in agitation. He needed her. He didn’t realize it yet. But he would.  She just had to save him again.

She heard the clacking of expensive boots on the pavement and the rage suffused her, making it easy to lift the rifle. She pulled the trigger as the red hair came around the corner.

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FFfAW

The bright laughter of the playing children mixed with the sound of the fountain in the center of the park. He picked a vivid red bench and sat. When had they painted the benches red? he wondered. It had been awhile since he had visited this particular park. He did like to rotate.

He relaxed and people watched. Who would it be today? He discounted the children playing tag immediately. They were both far too easy and yet too hard. They had no experience. Some older women sat playing cards, but didn’t hold his interest for long. They were too busy clucking among themselves.

A young couple caught his eye. The girl was a true beauty, far outstripping her suitor. But one could see the love between them. The young man got up to get something from a vendor. Perfect.

The girl walked to pond, talking to the ducks. He ambled over next to her, the syringe sliding down into his palm. She smiled at him tentatively. He smiled widely back at her.

***********

“Sarah? Sarah?” The young man turned to the ladies playing cards. “Did you see where my fiancée went?”

“She was over there by the pond, honey, talking to that old man. Huh. He’s gone too.”

(209 words)

My take on the happy scene that Priceless Joy gave us this week. It is rather a follow-up of my post earlier this week, where I pointed out that dark things can happen in bright daylight. Priceless Joy’s story also had a theme of fear this week.  Check out everyone else’s take on the photo here.

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Story Day 2!

Sarah sighed.  All the new books were gone already.  She’d known Jack was going to make her late.  The Blackpool Library was a small, very busy library, and if you didn’t get there early on Tuesday when the new books came out, you were out of luck.  She glanced over into the reading area, where Mrs. Jakes was chuckling over the new Evanovich, her blond head bouncing; then wandered into the mystery section.  Maybe there was something she’d missed.

“Well, hello Sarah,” Mrs. Bigley looked up from her cart and smiled.  As usual, the librarian’s gilt hair was sliding from her long braid and she reached up to tuck it behind an ear. “You’re running a bit late today, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Sarah grumped.  “I had to get Jake to work, and that boy just can’t be anywhere on time.  Anything good left?”

“Weeel, I think most of the new ones are taken. Did you have your name on the list for anything?”

“No, I thought I’d just wait and see what I was in the mood for.”

“I’d say Jake is lucky to have you for a big sister,” Mrs. Bigley said commiseratingly.  “He certainly has grown into a fine young man, hasn’t he? Just like your father.”

“Hmmm,” Sarah muttered noncommittally.  “I guess I’ll go into mystery and see if I see anything good.  Put me down for #17 when Mrs. Jakes finishes it, please. I know how fast she reads.”

“Ok, dear.”

Failing to find anything good in the Mystery section, Sarah moved further back into the library.  She also struck out in Romance, where sometimes she could find a good thriller that wasn’t too mushy.  Ignoring Sci-Fi, she decided to try Fiction—maybe there was a Joseph Finder or Greg Iles she’d missed. Pushing back her own long hair, Sarah scanned the shelves.

Sadly, Sarah found that she had read all her favorite authors—the downside of living in a small town with a small library. Some of her friends read books on their laptops, but Sarah loved the feel, the smell, the look of books. She loved older books, with their individual typeset and unique cover art.  So many of the new books copied the “look” of the art of other books in their genre.  She supposed that attracted people to the type of books they liked, but Sarah thought to herself that it was just a marketing cop-out.

Sarah continued to search the alphabet, looking for anything interesting.  She lingered in the Bourne series before deciding to move on.    In the ‘W’s, she saw a small book that looked like it had lived on the shelf forever.  She looked at the burgundy cloth spine more closely:  Winter Kill, by Wendall White.

She reached out her hand to pick the slender book up, then stopped as a chill traced down her back.  Sarah looked around, searching for a draft.  She realized that this far back in the stacks, it was almost as if she was alone in the library.  Looking around a corner, she could barely see Mrs. Bigley’s plump form as she shelved her cart. Shaking off her feeling, Sarah took the book off the shelf.  Her anticipation swiftly fled as she realized it was, indeed, a book about winter kill.  Specifically, a particularly rough winter in a small town in Alaska, and the fate of its populace, according to the description on the inner cover.  Sarah tried to put the book back, but it was a tight fit.  Finally, she got it shoved back in.

Disappointed, she turned to go back up front.  Reluctantly thinking that maybe she should get some books online, she heard a soft “snick”.  Turning around, she was amazed to see a door open in the gap between the two bookshelves on the back wall. Stepping forward to peer in the dark space, she saw a light switch. Reaching in to flip it, she saw a long line of old-fashioned hanging light bulbs illuminate a long hallway. They were swaying slightly in the draft created by the door opening.  The hall slanted downward, and she was unable to see anything at the end.  Curiosity took hold of her and, unable to resist, she stepped in the hall. As she took her first step past the doorway, the door swung shut behind her.  Sarah spun as she inhaled sharply.  She faced a blank door.  Searching the walls, she could find no lever to open the door.

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