She tried to remember what had first drawn her attention to him. I might've been his haircut, though she would never have admitted it...he'd've been mortified.
As the the young woman stepped up and over the basement threshold, the sun's warmth touching her bruised and battered body for the first time in six long months, she made a silent vow to herself.
Just before the sweat in his eyes blinded him, it seemed the trees were closing in and he would be crushed to death.
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She knew she was taking a chance crossing the bridge with the river running so high, but when she sprained her ankle halfway across and dropped the gun into the water, she knew she was in serious trouble.
Except for an aged bar tender who looked like he'd started his shift the previous morning, the only other patron was a middle aged woman nursing a bottle of pale ale.
Patricia Abbott is the author of more than 125 stories that have appeared online, in print journals and in various anthologies. She is the author of two print novels CONCRETE ANGEL (2015) and SHOT IN DETROIT (2016)(Polis Books). CONCRETE ANGEL was nominated for an Anthony and Macavity Award in 2016. SHOT IN DETROIT was nominated for an Edgar Award and an Anthony Award in 2017. A collection of her stories I BRING SORROW AND OTHER STORIES OF TRANSGRESSION will appear in 2018.
She also authored two ebooks, MONKEY JUSTICE and HOME INVASION and co-edited DISCOUNT NOIR. She won a Derringer award for her story "My Hero." She lives outside Detroit.
Patricia (Patti) Abbott
SHOT IN DETROIT
Edgar Nominee 2017, Anthony nominee 2017
CONCRETE ANGEL
Polis Books, 2015-nominated for the Anthony and Macavity Awards
28 comments:
Sylvia transported Mitch to familiar heights of pleasure as she straddled him on the large oak bed.
She asked me if I wanted to fly.
Cranmer...we know where his head (the big one, not the little one) is at!
She put the gun on the table, and then a knife, and then the Taser.
"Your choice," she said. "Seriously, could you hold them all for me? I don't want them on me where I'm going tonight. Wouldn't be smart."
"Don't move," he said in a harsh whisper. "It's on your shoulder."
She tried to remember what had first drawn her attention to him. I might've been his haircut, though she would never have admitted it...he'd've been mortified.
"It might've been his haircut..." that should've been.
David-those first few months of having a baby in the house can be challenging. HA!
These are all too funny. They could almost be part of one story.
As the the young woman stepped up and over the basement threshold, the sun's warmth touching her bruised and battered body for the first time in six long months, she made a silent vow to herself.
It was during the tender part of the movie -- the part where the audience usually starts to weep -- that Kay began laughing.
If so, Patti, there's definitely an implication of what would be on her shoulder.
Though I did suffer a big bug's bite once on the shoulder when engaged in a certain relevant activity...
The last Camel died at dawn. I flipped the butt in the gutter and decided I better get the killing done.
Mike, Ha. No comment, sir.
Patti, in the second sentence have the guy that Chandler talks about come in with a gun and kill the girl. Instant start to noir.
Or else you have your first Harlequin. :)
"Who's the ape?"
"Looking back, I suppose it was kind of foolish, but after six hours of drinking it seemed like a good idea."
Just before the sweat in his eyes blinded him, it seemed the trees were closing in and he would be crushed to death.
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She knew she was taking a chance crossing the bridge with the river running so high, but when she sprained her ankle halfway across and dropped the gun into the water, she knew she was in serious trouble.
Okay, except don't use "she knew" twice in that second one...
I screamed.
It's a universal maxim: You never want to receive a call after midnight.
Kenny hated key lime pie.
Except for an aged bar tender who looked like he'd started his shift the previous morning, the only other patron was a middle aged woman nursing a bottle of pale ale.
Good ones all and I think Rick needs to take up fiction writing.
So late with this, you'll probably never read it, but how about starting with a last sentence...
I usually write a story to find out the ending.
But I may try it if something doesn't click soon. Maybe it can be an enigmatic last sentence.
I'll take that as a compliment, thanks.
Will we ever know if you decided to use one of these, or more likely if any of them gave you the nudge you needed to get started on your own idea?
It was indeed a compliment and if I use one, I will let everyone know for sure.
Detroit is the kind of place where you don't want to get caught off guard.
I have a story to go with that. I have a friend who hated her years there.
Ann Arbor, I don't remember it with affection.
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