Thanks for reading! You can read more amazing authors here and here.
Enjoy your Sunday!
Thanks for reading! You can read more amazing authors here and here.
Enjoy your Sunday!
Welcome to Weekend Writing Warriors / Snippet Sunday!
Last week Deputy Miller came into the shop to ask the whereabouts of Dennis' brother. Continuing on where we left off, Dennis' last line was that he and his brother were engine people, not cell phone people...
“Fair enough.” Miller replied, “He didn’t mention any specific place? The lady that filed was really concerned.”
“He might have mentioned going to Vegas to try to win big, that was three weeks ago.”
“You’re not concerned that he didn’t return?”
“No, he does this shit all the time; my guess is he met someone in Vegas and took off somewhere with them, decided not to come back, maybe someone to pay his way."
Miller looked at me.
“Its not like he sends me fucking postcards.” I paused, “I don’t know if you know, but Derrick and I don’t really have a good relationship. Honestly, the shop is a lot quieter without him, might be double the work for me but at least I don’t have to argue with him all day.”
Thanks for reading! You can read more amazing authors here and here.
Enjoy your Sunday!
Welcome to Weekend Writing Warriors / Snippet Sunday!
So, I guess last week my link wasn't working. I didn't know until Teresa Cypher let me know. So, here's the link to last week. I'm going to continue on with my untitled serial killer project. All you really need to know from last week is that Dennis was working in his auto shop and Deputy Miller from Lancaster PD shows up. There's some exposition about Deputy Miller that I'm skipping.
“Need a part for your cruiser?” I asked, “Maybe a bigger engine to really fly down the five?” Miller chewed his gum and smiled, walking over to me by the counter, he was in his late fifties, tall and slim, an easy 6’3” if not more; probably was once a basketball star of his high school. “I was talking to my buddy up in Bakers, said a woman filed a missing persons report for a one Derrick Hancock from Lancaster. Where’s your brother?” “I don’t know,” I replied, “Derrick likes to take off. Never tells me where he’s going, just leaves me here to run this place, reappears when he feels like it.” “Why not call him?” Miller asked. “Because we’re not cell phone people, we’re engine people.”Thanks for reading! You can read more amazing authors here and here. I've been really busy with work lately, but I have Monday off, so I plan on catching up on reading posts.
Welcome to Weekend Writing Warriors / Snippet Sunday!
This week, we will continue on from last week with my serial killer WIP in the pov of Dennis. Creative punctuation used to make it fit.
Around fifty more yards, the broken, abandon cars came into view, stretched out into three rows. The rundown warehouse that served as a garage sat behind the cars. The dull blue paint peeling revealing splotches of shit brown underneath. The lot wasn’t much, but we made a decent living from it. And it was ours, we didn’t have to report to work for someone else. Antelope Valley needed one anyways, since the closest was Bakersfield. The locals took what they could get. I drifted into my usual spot on the side of the building, coming to a halt, just like they do in the movies; I waited for the dust to settle before setting out to open shop. About midday, there was a flood of customers needing spare parts from the yard, that forced me from fixing cars to pointing them in the right direction to find the part they were looking for. As I charged a man that worked for another repair service in town for a windshield, Lancaster PD walked through the door in the form of Deputy Miller.
Thanks for reading! You can read more amazing authors here and here.
Welcome to Weekend Writing Warriors / Snippet Sunday!
This week, we will continue on from last week with my serial killer WIP in the pov of Dennis. Creative punctuation used to make it fit.
As I went to stick the keys in the ignition, I stopped and touched the small purple crystal star keychain hanging off. It was almost a year ago when Serena Fire had given it to me for my birthday, along with a free lap dance...That girl was fire.
I started up the car, listening to the engine rev before taking off down the dirt road. I loved this car, it was the best one I had fixed up yet, to make it my own. I originally wanted it orange with black stripes, but everyone that saw it kept calling it the fucking car from Dukes of Hazzard; wrong fucking make and model besides the fact that this was new and not from nineteen sixty-fucking-nine, so black with orange stripes it was.
I rolled down the window and floored it, letting the wind fill the hot car. I didn’t have to worry about being pulled over, since this was a private dirt road on the land Derrick and I owned. It was perfect for testing out the speed of cars, racing, and drifting. I flipped off Derrick’s house as I flew past it, not that he was home. His truck was still there, but he was not.
Thanks for reading! You can read more amazing authors here and here.
Welcome to Weekend Writing Warriors / Snippet Sunday! I'm kinda getting back into the groove of this and trying to post earlier in the week instead of the night before. The blog, however, needs a makeover, things are so outdated! lol.
Anyway, we are going to continue on with my untitled serial killer WIP. Picking up right where we left off last week with Dennis.
I grabbed my thermos of coffee and keys, and headed out the door for another day of running the shop yard. It was already, sunny and warming up in the Mojave desert on the outskirts of Lancaster, a single tumbleweed blowing across the barren dirt yard. I hobbled over to my car, my lame leg giving me more trouble than usual. What a fucking asshole Derrick was for smashing my leg with a baseball bat when we were teenagers. Fuck him.The sunlight reflected harshly off of the orange strips on my Dodge Challenger, creating a blinding glare. Beneath the glare, I could see dust had blown through the night, the black paint looking dull. It was such a bitch keeping a car clean in the desert. I would have to wipe it down, yet again, before going into L.A. later. If Derrick’s car was around, I would have drawn a dick in the dust for him, right across the windshield.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * End of snippet, but I'm going to continue on because there are four more lines I really want to share:
I opened the car and got in, setting the thermos in the cupholder. As I went to stick the keys in the ignition, I stopped and touched the small purple crystal star keychain hanging off. It was almost a year ago when Serena Fire had given it to me for my birthday, along with a free lap dance. That girl was fire.
Thanks for reading! You can read more amazing authors here and here.
It has been two years since I've done this! I really hand an urge to jump back in today! Despite my absence, I have still been writing here and there, always coming up with new stories, but as per my usual M.O. never finishing anything. I need to figure out this blog an update it.
Anyway, the excerpt I am about to share is from a WIP. It has no title, but is a serial killer type of story. I'm just going to start at the very beginning because why not. It is from the pov of a man named Dennis. Creative punctuation used to make it fit and make sense (I hope).
“Another body was discovered early this morning, near Griffith Park and the I-5 Freeway and police are saying it matches the others that have been found over the last few months. Police are certain the Los Angeles area is seeing its first serial killer since 2007 and warns the community to be safe out on the streets.”
The high pitched annoying blonde from the news station rambled on, rattling my brain, I smashed the power button on the tv to shut her up. She made it sound like there were many bodies discovered, when in actuality, the police had only discovered three over the last 8 months. All the same; prostitutes, drugged, raped, stabbed and strangled to death, their bodies bleached and cleaned of prints, left in random places, posed. This one in particular propped up against a pole, tied to it. Police had no leads, no clues, and all they could do was warn the public to be careful, especially the sex workers out there, while the public awaited a ridiculous name to call this one. It was intriguing to see what stupid name they would come up with. There would no doubt be more bodies... in time.