I started the Death and the Detective series from the writing prompts challenges at Creative Copy Challenge. The words in bold are the writing prompts from the challenge.
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Challenge #52
Maggie knew all too well that a lot was riding on how she would react. As much as she would love to fill her arms with the sexy, Detective Connors, she had to divert those feelings behind the professional cloak of sanity.
Maggie felt the jolt of her heart as the loud cheer erupted over the Lakers’ comeback in a game that looked lost. She heard the collective curse of the Celtics’ fans who watched destiny slip through their fingers with the added ache of the club losing to their hated rivals.
Maggie smiled as her friends grabbed her in a group embrace. Over her best friend’s shoulder, she tracked the slow, troubled departure of a detective who had seen too much.
Challenge #54
Brett’s random sighting of the sexy Dr. Sweeney at the local sports bar had to shatter any thought he had of disinterest. Apart from her killer legs, her very un-doctor-like jeans cupped a really excellent ass.
Brett channeled much of his anger from his ordered leave, squarely on the shoulders of one Dr. Maggie Sweeney. He spent 25 years as a homicide detective and did not appreciate the resident shrink pulling the plug – even temporarily. Okay, sure, he had taken a six-month leave before, but that was on his terms.
Brett simply had no answer to what it was about the lady shrink that stirred up so much emotion.
“Yeah, no rhyme or reason, other than a figure that makes you want to drop her on the nearest flat surface.”
So, maybe that wasn’t entirely accurate. “Well, yeah,” Brett thought, “I wouldn’t pass up a chance for a little floor-sweeping sex,” but that wasn’t what really bothered him about the Doc.
It started with those guided, green missiles of hers she called eyes. They bore through the walls surrounding his soul and dragged the buried pain to the surface light of day. No matter how he’d try to blank out the past, the lady Doc found a way around it.
Brett knew he could not ignore the challenge any longer. He would have to face it head-on or explain to himself why he chose to run.
Challenge #56
Maggie dreamed of one big shot – one she would smash past her friend, Sue, as she made a futile attempt at a return. This whole match, Maggie felt off – almost as if someone was staring at her. Every time she would make a move, the back of her neck tingled in a tension she could not describe.
Maggie felt the singing of the racquet’s strings as she put all her force behind her serve. It was her best serve yet – if she was aiming for the net.
“You know, I think we should just write this game off,” Sue hollered across the net. “Are you sure you want to be here?”
“I know – you couldn’t prove it by my game. Sorry, Sue, I guess my mind is just not in it,” Maggie apologized.
Sue walked up to the net. She lifted her sunglasses and Maggie’s and looked into Maggie’s troubled green gaze.
“What’s going on?”
“I don’t know what it is,” Maggie replied. “I just have the sense that something very unusual is going to happen.”
“Unusual, exciting or unusual, weird?”
“I don’t know, maybe unusual scary.”
Sue felt a tremble up the back of her spine. She didn’t like this. She’d known Maggie most her life.
If Maggie was having strange vibes, something was going on. After all, they hadn’t nicknamed her Mystic Maggie as a child because of exotic, gypsy looks. Freckle-faced, red-haired Maggie had an eerie way of sensing bad things before they happened.
“Let’s give this up and go grab a glass of wine,” Sue said.
“Now, that’s the best idea I’ve heard all day,” Maggie smiled.
The two friends gathered their gear and headed for the clubhouse while eyes devoid of light, followed in silent rage.
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