SPF – Recuperation

Every week, a new photo is used as a prompt to create a piece of fiction with around 200 words. If you would like to have a go, then take a look

here

or if you would like to see what others have written, then take a look

here

This is part of an ongoing saga that you can find

here

Dan sat by the water looking at his reflection. After having his hand amputated following his torture at the hands of the unknown, and now very dead, assailant, he felt less than useless. Using his lower right arm, he rippled the water as a tear dropped in. Dahlia approached him, laid him down and wrapped all of her arms around him from behind. As they lay there, she could feel him sobbing so just kissed him on the back of the neck and laid there.

Four hours later, she noticed he had finally drifted off to sleep, so gently detangled herself from him and sat by the edge of the pool. In two weeks, someone murdered and mutilated her father’s body, and then Dan lost his hand to a torturer. If it were not for the priest speaking to a Human in the church, and running out to fetch the enforcers, Dan may not have survived the night.

Now, as she looked at her sleeping friend, she decided he needed all the help he could get. There was something more than just murder and mutilation here, and it chilled her to the bone at the thought of what may happen.

Sunday Photo Fiction: Mangled

Every week a photo is used as a prompt for flash fiction of around 200 words. If you want to have go, head here, or if you want to see what others have written, then click on the little froggy.

This story is the continuation of an ongoing saga called Daniel’s Legacy: Dan’s Story.

WARNING: BRIEF INSTANCE OF TORTURE

Dan opened his eyes to a feeling of immense pain in his face. He tried to touch his face but found himself strapped to a chair by his arms and legs. His left and upper eyes were swollen shut so he could only see in one dimension. A figure strode around the room just in the shadows so he could not make out anything from his captor.

“Who are you, and what do you want?” Dan asked, trying to sound authoritative but instead, his voice cracked near the end.

His captor, seemingly an Earther, ran and slammed his hands on Dan’s arms causing him to grunt in pain. “I don’t believe you are in a position to ask me questions. I’m going to ask you a question, Vak, and I believe I can withdraw the correct answer from you. I am going to untie your right upper arm now.” His captor freed Dan’s arm, fed his fingers between the wheels of the device beside him, and turned.

Dan’s screams drowned out the sound of the gunfire and his captor hitting the floor. Someone grabbed his arm as someone else pried his fingers free. Through the tears and his one good eye, he could see the uniforms of the Enforcers and the priest from the church he left Dahlia.

Sunday Photo Fiction: A Moonlit Walk

Every Sunday a photo is used as a prompt to try and get the creative juices flowing to create a piece of up to about 200 words. If you want to have a go, then head here, or if you want to see what others have written, then head here.

This is part of an ongoing story called Daniel’s Legacy: Dan’s Story. You can find the complete tale at the top of the page under Fiction, or click here if you want to cheat.

Dan walked outside and glanced up at the first of the moons as it rose in the sky. He knew he had to find the killer of Dahlia’s father. He asked him to after death. It was not often the dead spoke to him, but when they did, it resulted in life changing consequences, and that terrified him now.

He looked up at the moon as the second, larger moon rose on its dark orbit, casting the first in shadows. It did not matter how many times Dan witnessed this, it still amazed him. Shaking his head, he brought himself back to the moment at hand.

His trip to the hall of records uncovered no clues, so now he needed to trawl the archives for murders like this across the planet. He started walking without thinking. The image of Dahlia’s father turning to him after death gave him nightmares, and he kept finding himself dragged back to that moment.

“Help me”

How could he? He needed some clue.

“Help me”

A Serial killer maybe as Sianne said?

“Help me”

Maybe a Vakarian framing a human?

“HelpmeHelpmeHelpmeHelpmeHelpme”

“By the Gods!” he exclaimed and stopped as he remembered the hand held something. He turned around, and a fist was the last thing he saw.

Sunday Photo Fiction: A Cut Above

Each week, a photo prompt is used to try to get the grey matter working and inspire a story of between 100-200 words. If you want to have a go, then head here. Or if you want to see what others have written, head here.

You can see the previous instalments of this story at the top under Fiction/Daniel’s Legacy: Dan’s Story

A Cut Above

Dan walked into the morgue with two of his hands in his pockets. He nodded to Sianne, the female pathologist as she looked up at him.

She stood and motioned for Dan to follow her. Having known him since his days in the enforcers and now as a Private Investigator, Sianne always helped him when she could. “I can tell that, thankfully, he was already dead when his limbs were severed. He was stabbed in the back of the neck by something tiny. It killed him before he had a clue.”

Sianne moved her robot around and set the arm to hold the severed stump and zoom in on the wound. “You can see by the striations that this was done by a very sharp weapon. Okay Beagle, you can let go now.” The circular robot released its hold and moved back to its housing.

“Listen, Dan. I think you will need help on this. With how clean these were, I don’t think Dahlia’s father was the first. I think we have a serial killer.”

She put her hands in her pockets and watched Dan as he turned and walked out the door. Continuing to watch the door long after it closed.