A lot of writing advice connotes I should be willing to kill my darlings. Okay, they were right. It made my writing more gritty and realistic. The problem now isn’t how to make what I put on the page more lifelike, but where am I going to bury the bodies?
The prison gate swung open and Ferris walked out of the walls that had held him closed in for over half a century.
“How does it feel?” asked Marvin. Marvin had been a guard at the prison for over six years. Ferris liked the kid, but he could be too much a hard ass.
Ferris gestured back at the prison. “When I came through these gates, I was a demon. I killed a family for some drinking money.” Ferris looked at the bus waiting to take him to a half way house. “Now I realize I wasn’t a demon, but a time traveler. I get to see how everything has changed.”
“Just watch out. Some things haven’t changed,” said Marvin.
“Like what?” asked Ferris.
“There are still demons who kill for drinking money. Don’t reconvert,” said Marvin as he shook Ferris’ hand. “Take care and I better not see you on this side of the walls again.”
Ferris tipped his hat, exposing his grey wispy hair. “No more demons for me,” said Ferris. “and no offense, you can keep your walls. I’m sick of living in a castle. ”
And with that Ferris walked onto the bus. “Take me to the future,” he said as the doors closed.