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  Kenneth Lawson
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September 27th, 2020

9/27/2020

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He hadn’t expected people that morning.Just as he was getting ready to bury the body in the cave, he heard a noise. 
 The sound of a  small outboard motor putzing along into the cove.  
He glanced at the gun lying beside him. Picking it up he considered what he’d done already. If he was caught; He’d probably be executed. 
So he really had very little to lose. 

Quickly, with his heart racing and pulse throbbing just this side of panic he managed to bury the body enough so it wasn’t visible at a glance.  
Just as the boat plowed up on the sand at the water’s edge he managed to hide. Maybe he wouldn’t have to kill innocent people after all. 
The couple stumbled and splashed water around as they got out  the small boat.  
A wicker picnic basket appeared out the back of the boat. It was carried it to the dry sand, where she’d taken off her most of her clothes.
From his place in the shadows, he watched as they laid a blanket out and stuck a beach umbrella in the sand blocking most the mid-morning sun. He could see them settling down for a long quiet picnic on what they thought was a deserted beach. 

He knew he had to do something. He couldn’t be here all day.  He needed to get back to establish his alibi.
 He stepped out into the sun.
 The didn’t see him at first. It wasn’t until his shadow crossed the path of the umbrella.  
From the shadows of the umbrella, he saw a familiar glint. The couple sat looking up at him. Each had a gun in their hand and he had a badge pinned to his shirt. 
“We were beginning to wonder when you’d show up,” he said.


 

 

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September 13th, 2020

9/13/2020

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I never expected nor wanted to return to my home state, but the choice wasn’t mine.  Death and birth were usually the reasons people came home. 
 My motivation was simpler. Greed. The potential sale of the family business had left me in a bind. And the only way to remedy it was to actually be there.
 But this required the old school face to face meeting and keeping promises.
Promises I would honor if so no other reason then to say that I did what I said I would.
I didn’t want to return home. Promises must be kept. Whether I liked the places I had to go to do it or not.
 The small airfield near my hometown was barely big enough to land my private plane.  The pilot managed to get it down in the limited landing space using every inch of ground available.  I promised him a healthy bonus when this was over. He had earned it.
 The black caddy that was waiting for me was older then I am.  The clean lines of the fenders and doors spoke of another time and place.
 I got in and meet her.
“You came.” She took my hand and squeezed it.

“I said I would.”
“ I know, but I didn’t expect you to actually show up.”
“You know me better than that, I do what I say I will.” 

“You have the papers?” I patted the briefcase by my side.
“Good, we now have enough stock and options to stop the sale of the company.”
“I also found the papers and pictures of his girlfriend and her friends. That should put an end of this  nonsense.”
The board meeting later that afternoon promised to be a fiery one.

 Heads would roll.
 

 


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September 06th, 2020

9/6/2020

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The tour guide insisted a local pottery artist created the painted skulls, but my goosebumps didn’t believe him. While the colors looked fake, the skulls themselves didn’t. There were real. Theses had been living breathing humans at one time. Now they were reduced to be cheesy decorations on a shelf, a conversation piece designed to elicit oohs, and ahhs and Questions about how they were made.Stepping closer he picked up one. Turning over in his hands he could feel the fractures under the paint. The slight indent where an object had stuck it when it contained a brain and was covered with living tissue.  Blunt force trauma, Not enough to kill, but enough to make one unable to move or react, whatever killed him had happened to the body. Which like the rest of them was long gone. Picking up a second one, he felt it. Again he found the telltales signs of damage. But it wasn’t an indentation. It was a hole. Feeling closer with his fingers,  he could tell, it was a bullet hole. A rather large one at that. At least the size of a thirty-eight. The hole had been plugged with some clay and painted over. He pulled the tour guide aside and flashed his badge. Telling her that the skulls and any other bones that had were now a crime scene. 
The exhibit was closed and the visitors were sent home.  

 He had done it again.
 It seemed almost everywhere he went, he found trouble. In this case, he’d stumbled on the remains of some dead bodies. 
  
 


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    Picture


    500 Words
      The idea is to write a short story  about 500 max short based on a picture and an opening line.  
    ​From there one can go ANYWHERE..
    ​
    Please note: the images used are free-use images and do not require attribution.

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