Forget the Cookies (a 200 word story)

I remember the child sitting on my lap.  “What would it take for you to do this one thing for me?” he had asked.  They warn you about this when you join the corps, but it still amazes you when you hear it.

That’s why I stopped in my tracks and thought hard once I was in the man’s bedroom.  What the kid was asking me to do came naturally.  Still, I hated the son of a bitch for what he had done to the boy, so I wanted to gift the man something more.  All it would take is a slight twitch and justice would be served.  I had killed many a person, young and old, male and female, but never while they slept, not in cold blood.  That was not who I was, at least not now.

I sheathed my blade and left his son’s note.  I thought about leaving a bit of coal behind to emphasize that I saw his naughty ass and if I had wanted he would have been mine, but I am a man of the red cloth.  “What would it take?  I may only play a saint, but a devil I am not.”

 

Image: newsinfo.inquirer.net/files/2019/12/48624557.jpg

Intrigue (an acrostic poem) part 4

It didn’t make Mike happy that he killed that poor woman

No, that wasn’t right.  He did it because of that damn blackmail note

There was no way he was going to let his blackmailer get away with it though

Reviewing hours of video was something he used to do as a private eye

It wasn’t his favorite part of a horrible job, but he was good at it

Grabbing his coffee he slowed down the frames

Unable to believe what he was seeing he checked it fifteen times

Everything finally made sense, and he had his lead

 

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Laced (an acrostic poem)

Looking for the poison in her sweetness

At the same time not caring if she killed him at the moment

Couldn’t help but think he was in way over his head

Even as he drank in all she poured out for him

Determined to take all the bad with the good

 

Image: img00.deviantart.net/f6c5/i/2012/103/2/1/a_cup_of_poison_by_estrangeloedessa-d4w1y2q.jpg

Pumpkin (an acrostic poem)

Pushing his horse to go faster, Jon peered through the fog

Under the full moon, the fog formed a concealing haze

Muttering under his breath, Jon was forced to slow down

Pelting his head on a branch wouldn’t be much better than getting caught

Killed was killed, no matter which way his head crumbled

It began to clear and Jon could see the old school house.  He was almost home

Nathan found Jon’s remains mingled with those of an orange squash on the school’s wall