Fast Fiction Challenge: For Love Not Lisa
Title: For Love Not Lisa
Word: bondage
Challenger: fastbak77
Length: 200 words exactly The detective walked into the room slowly, ensuring that nothing missed his careful, sweeping gaze. He stopped in the middle of the enclosed space, and raised his fat hand to the back of his equally fat neck, scratching lightly.
He glanced down to the bed, from where the woman’s body had been removed, and a movement caught his eye. The shadows cast by the single dim light source shifted as he knelt, and the mouse ran out from under the bed and stared at him, before scampering back into darkness.
The detective switched on his torch and swung it around the room, seeing the expected bondage paraphernalia, the sharp movement causing his shoulder to protest.
The killing offended him, personally.
He knew how she’d died and he could make a pretty good deduction as to why someone had committed the murder. What puzzled him was why she’d allowed someone to kill her.
She was his slave, no-one else’s, and he objected to her having died without permission.
His arm still ached from where he’d whipped her the previous weekend and he remembered the ecstasy they’d shared.
He’d find the killer in tribute to their love; he’d already forgotten her name.
© Lee Barnett, 2006
Word: bondage
Challenger: fastbak77
Length: 200 words exactly The detective walked into the room slowly, ensuring that nothing missed his careful, sweeping gaze. He stopped in the middle of the enclosed space, and raised his fat hand to the back of his equally fat neck, scratching lightly.
He glanced down to the bed, from where the woman’s body had been removed, and a movement caught his eye. The shadows cast by the single dim light source shifted as he knelt, and the mouse ran out from under the bed and stared at him, before scampering back into darkness.
The detective switched on his torch and swung it around the room, seeing the expected bondage paraphernalia, the sharp movement causing his shoulder to protest.
The killing offended him, personally.
He knew how she’d died and he could make a pretty good deduction as to why someone had committed the murder. What puzzled him was why she’d allowed someone to kill her.
She was his slave, no-one else’s, and he objected to her having died without permission.
His arm still ached from where he’d whipped her the previous weekend and he remembered the ecstasy they’d shared.
He’d find the killer in tribute to their love; he’d already forgotten her name.
© Lee Barnett, 2006