Archive | April 9, 2010

Fiction Friday #150 – The Dead Man and The Clown

*Update 2:  Write Anything have now added this as a second prompt for today.  Please read…*

*Update:  This is actually the prompt for Fiction Friday on 16th April, so if you don’t want to know what it is yet – STOP READING.  I’m going to try to do another piece using the correct prompt, but can’t promise anything.*

I’m not feeling too inspired to get anything out again today, but didn’t want to not do FF this week, so here’s just a little something I’ve started.  All 300 words of it!  I hope you enjoy it…

Almost forgot – the prompt is: A man is killed. A clown is the only clue to the murderer.

            ‘Don’t come in here.’  Of course saying that made Dan run straight into the living room behind Susan.  Never could it be said he did things he wasn’t supposed to do. 

            ‘Why?  Wha…’  The noise reverberated round the small room.  He tried pushing Susan out the way, but she held her ground.

            ‘I don’t think we should go any closer.  We need to call the police.  Or an ambulance.’  They looked at each other for a full minute.  ‘Do you think he’s dead?’ she whispered.

            ‘With that amount of blood, coming from his head, yes, yes I think he is. Plus, he’s pretty blue.  I think he must have been dead for a while.’  They both looked back at the body, too stunned to do anything other than stand there.

            ‘He can’t have been dead that long ago. He definitely wasn’t there when we left for work this morning.  Was he?’

            ‘No.  No.  No, he can’t have been.  We would have noticed.  Wouldn’t we?’

            Dan shrugged.  ‘I don’t know.  I didn’t come in here.  Did you?’  She shook her head. 

            ‘I can’t remember the last time I came in here.  I didn’t last night either.  Did you?’  Dan thought about it, had he been in there last night?

            ‘I don’t know.  I really don’t know.’  He looked back at the body.  ‘Hey!’ he pointed to the man’s hand, ‘Isn’t that your clown?’ 

            Susan hadn’t looked closely at anything other than the smashed in head.  Without any further communication, they both stepped closer. 

            ‘It is.  That’s the clown I lost years ago.  The one my Mum gave me.’  They looked at each other, the unspoken questions between them, Who was this man?  Why was he dead in their house? How had the clown got there?  And why did he have it?

Fiction Friday is the brilliant idea of the people over at Write Anything.  You have to use the prompt provided, write for at least 5 minutes and DO NOT EDIT.

I actually feel bad posting this – it’s not anything.  I just couldn’t work out any of the answers to the questions that I’d set myself for it.  I’ll try harder next week.  I promise. 

As always I’d welcome your comments.  It’s your comments that are helping me on my way to becoming a better writer.

Advertisements