Saturday, March 14, 2015

Soft boiled egg

The woman’s head had cracked like a soft boiled egg, brains and blood spread in a wide arc.

‘How the hell did she get up there?’ The young garda said, staring up at the tall steeple.

‘More to the point,’ Carter replied, ‘why was she up there and did she jump or was she pushed?’

‘Jumped.  Why struggle all the way up there with her?’

‘To scare her.  To witness her trying to fly.  To make it appear like suicide.  One thing’s certain, all the king’s horses and all the king’s men aren’t going to put her back together again.’

A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Oh, nicely done, Rob! Now I want to know what she was doing up there, too!