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 #29
It was after midnight, a time for divine voices, offering charm and the relief of all sensation. Yes, it was departure, but it was a welcomed alternative to the domino tumble of troubled memories.
Brett dreamed of a simple life, somewhere in the Canary Islands or other far-off place. Instead, his mind locked like the shutter of a camera, captured the stark reality of death.
Challenge #30
With rain tracking down the window like damning tears from his soul, he wondered, “What have I done?” His thoughts could not silence the constant pinging of his triangle of doubt. “Would you change your mind, if you had a second chance?”
His life as a homicide detective brought many gut-wrenching decisions into his life – none more difficult than this one. With the out-of-order kaleidoscope of events tumbling before the back screen of his mind, the scenes went straight to the heart like a heat-seeking missile. The pain was an almost fantastic relief to the atomic pressure he felt from a picture playing over and over and over.
Challenge #31
He could scout for answers, but the questions would never stop. All Brett could do was take one day at a time – so far so good. Or was it? Most days, Brett questioned if he could go on. The thread was hair-thin.
The digital clock screamed 3 A.M. Surrendering all thought of sleep, Brett made his way to the kitchen. The room held the stink of neglected trash and unwashed dishes.
Bracing his against the sink, he waited for the unavoidable pain of nocturnal memories. Like unrelenting lyrics stuck in his head, the vision pounded against his mind. His pulse joined in a corresponding beat. It was an infection he could not cure.
Challenge #33
Homicide detective, Brett Connors, would rather be naked and strung across a sea of scorpions. Instead, he was sitting, cooling his heels in the office of the precinct’s shrink.
“If you leave now, you can come up with an excuse later,” he plotted.
Only his future as a cop was in jeopardy. He’d trade that right now for a place to hide. Fate had put him on this ride. He didn’t need a shrink to confirm that.
Besides he had an avalanche of paperwork he hadn’t touched. He could do without the relentless reminders of things best forgotten – the kind of things illuminated in the dark of night. It was time for a break away, one far away from his current view on life.
“Detective Connors, the doctor will see you now.”
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