Words blurred in and out of Delia’s focus. She slammed the book into her lap and glared towards the younger woman bound by ropes in the backseat.
“See, this is our problem. You never shut up.”
The woman blinked as the statement hit her but the gag prevented her from responding.
“Even now I can just hear you whining.”
The woman stared towards the slouching fabric above her despondently.
“I thought we were friends.” Delia mocked. “You know you can’t have friends in this business.”
The woman sighed.
“Whatever. It doesn’t matter. Tomorrow I’ll pretend I never knew your name.”
Word Count: 100 For the always fascinating Friday Fictioneers, click the link and blue frog to read more. I realize this is a beach and not a pier that you drop bodies off but you know … artistic liberties.
What secrets this lake keeps
When the dark nights rain
And it’s just humid enough
For the lake to stain
With the ghost of clouds
That couldn’t quite take flight.
There’s a story here
Only unfolding in those nights.
Billy lives in that mansion across the way.
Him, his mistress and a perfect family.
He shines the spotlight over the lake
When the fogs settle in thick.
Billy claims it’s for the speedsters,
Whipping in and out,
Keeps them quick.
But I know the truth,
Of Billy and the lake
And the girl he vowed to take
As his first, his wife.
His heart and soul she was.
Until one day sweet Billy found her
Facedown in the red mud;
To the back and head.
The gun was his
And sweet Billy was no saint.
Scared, he hid
Her body at the bottom of the lake.
Now he shines his spotlight,
When the fogs coat the waters thick
To keep the specter of his love
From spilling his secrets like oil slicks.